Men in Uniform

I've had a few special moments with men in uniform this past week, although every opportunity to meet the potential Mr. Lauralee Stel seems to come at the most inopportune times ...such as the men at ADT Security Services.

I've been dog sitting at four different homes the last two weeks and each home has its own way of doing things including how the house alarm is set. Luckily for me, this is how I met eligible bachelors 1, 2 and 3.

First bachelor, home three. I called the security system's 1-800 number when the alarm bleeped that it was 'NOT READY'. Not ready for what? The cute man at ADT couldn't figure it out either. Well, I imagined he was cute. He had a nice voice and was super helpful. Turns out 'NOT READY' means you have to close all the doors, including the garage door, and then try again. I won't take any hints for my love life here, but I have to wonder if there is a relationship door or two that I need to slam shut before I can proceed to the next one.

Second bachelor, home four. I set the alarm system and promptly left the house to get a hammer from my car. I came back two minutes later with the alarm blaring and the poor dog looking at me questionably. I ran to the magic box and typed in my code.

"Hello? Is anyone there? What's going on?" bachelor #2 called from the wall.
"Hi there! I'm sorry, I forgot I had the alarm set! I punched in my cod--"
He interrupted (a not very desirable trait, in my books),"What's the password?"
"The password? Like, the four-digit code?"
"No ma'am, the password. The WORD."
He seemed to be getting frustrated. I didn't have the password and tried to explain this to him. My voice got rapidly louder.
"I'm DOG SITTING and they JUST GAVE ME THE NUMBER CODE."
"What's your name?"
"Lauralee Stel"
"What's your name ma'am?"
"Laura. Lee. Stel."
"I can't hear you. WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"
He was yelling now and I tried to enunciate more clearly. By the fifth time I resigned myself to the fact that I was most likely spending the night in prison and that this was not my ever-alluding Prince Charming.
"Alright. I have all the information I need. I'm going to disconnect now."

Well, that's what I thought he said. I realized 10 minutes later that he said, "I'm going to send a dispatcher now."

There was a knock on the door and I grabbed my sewing scissors as a defense weapon. (You think I've been watching too many cold cases on TV?) I opened the door to a, ahem, very charming young police officer.
"Is this the only dog here?" The dog was sniffing and licking the man's hand.
"Yes! You can come in!" I smiled sweetly and checked my hair in the mirror. "She's a really sweet dog."
The officer barked back a reply, "I had a call to come here. Would you like to tell me what happened?"
I told the story, blushing and flustered. "I have the keys! They didn't give me a password but I can give them a call if that would help. Or would you like to call them?"

My mind was racing. Perhaps that's what most robbers did: agreed to help out the officer but actually call their friend for a fake password and not the real home-owner. I wondered if I'd get the orange or blue and gray striped pyjama's and if I'd have a friendly cell mate.

I'd like to point out here that I look about as robber-like as one might think: fuzzy slippers, jeans and pony-tail. In my defense, besides the scissors still in hand, I looked innocent.

"I'll just need to see your ID then, Miss."
"Huh?" My mind zipped back to reality. I handed him my driver's license, and realized I looked nothing like the beauty in the picture. I was probably going to be charged for identity theft, too. He wrote my birthday and name on his hand.
"Sir, I have paper if you like, so you don't have to write on your hand."
"No, it's fine. Next time just make sure you get the password from them, okay?" he smiled and handed back my ID.
"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Too bad my phone number isn't listed on the driver's license. Although I don't think it's legal for a police officer to date women he came over to arrest. Darn!