The Political Stuff came in third. Sadly, many times this meshes with the Gun Stuff.
This got me to thinking. (I know, you could smell the smoke in your zip code! :-) ) I don’t write as often about the PI stuff as I used to, in part because I want interesting, clever, funny, dramatic stuff, and my muse doesn’t always have that. Partially because PI stuff can be b-o-r-i-n-g.
Think about it. One does much as a police detective, street cop or CSI does. Without the force of the government behind you, or a backup a radio call away. Back-in-the-day, there wasn’t an Internet, or boo-koo databases available at your fingertips. Just like the gov’t guys, it was shoe leather, and more shoe leather (I actually DID wear holes in my Florsheims, and later in my Allen Edmonds), windshield time,
interviewing neighbors getting the neighbors to come to the door and speak with you (maybe), searching through dusty records and archives for that ONE clue, standing in line at Motor Vehicle Records (the great equalizer of PIs, process servers, insurance investigators and attorneys) hoping the funds spent will lead you to the next right clue. Sitting on surveillance. It was like waiting for the movie to start at the drive-in*. Waiting and watching. For untold hours. Putting up with the nosy Alice Kravitz-type neighbors; curious dogs; police sent to investigate you by Alice. Having to go to the bathroom and being unable to hold it any longer, and the standard-issue glass milk bottle just didn’t cut it.
I’ve not been a PI since 1986. And I medically retired as a credit card fraud investigator in 2009. It was demanding, underpaying, unappreciated, sometimes demeaning work.
I miss it. I’ve got the PI Blues…
…from my head down to my shoes…with the holes in them...
*drive-in: They used to show first-run motion pictures al fresco; one could sit in one’s car and watch. Better with two. Of course, then less movie watching occurred!