(I have just gotten pulled over by the police, but I’m not sure why.)

Me: “Is something wrong, Officer?”

Officer: “Do you know how fast you were going?”

Me: “Um, 38, I think?”

Officer: “And do you know what the speed limit is here?”

(I do know the speed limit, as I drive this stretch of road daily.)

Me: “40?”

Officer: *looks confused* “…Well, you have a nice day then!”

Related:
Someone Needs To Get His Brain In Gear

(Just as I’m coming down a hill, my car makes an odd noise and slows to a stop. I manage to get my car to the shoulder and try to get the gas going, but no luck. I see that there is a police officer nearby, so I put on the emergency flashers and go out to ask him if he can offer any kind of assistance.)

Me: “Officer, I—”

Cop: “You can’t park there.”

(I’m slightly baffled as to why he thought I am voluntarily parked there, as my emergency flashers are clearly on and I am visibly panicking and near tears.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not parked; my car broke down. I was just wondering—”

Cop: “You can’t park there. This is a parade route.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I had no idea there would be a parade. I was only passing through when my car broke down—”

Cop: “You’re going to have to drive it around that corner down there. There’s a parking lot a ways down.”

Me: “…Sir, my car broke down. I can’t drive it.”

Cop: “Well, you can’t park there.”

Me: *nearly crying, and getting angry* “Sir, I can’t help that my car broke down. I can’t drive it. I was wondering if—”

Cop: “Well, get in, start it, and put it in drive. You can’t be parked here. The parade’s coming through soon.”

Me: “Sir, I already told you, I can’t drive it. I hit the accelerator and it doesn’t go.”

Cop: “Well, you’ll have to move. I already told you you can’t park there.”

(Fortunately, a couple of wonderful gentlemen came by at that point, saw that I was panicked, and pushed my car a few blocks away to a parking lot where I could leave it until I could get a tow and a ride.)

(My shift consists of myself (biracial) and two other girls: one black, one white. An officer comes in with a colleague in tow and is ranting about something. I walk up to the counter and hear this.)

Officer: “…and then they told me I should consider myself lucky I wasn’t being reported. I’m telling you, all these d*** black people need to go find jobs, and furthermore…” *continues ranting*

(The officer’s colleague is aware that I am biracial, and is desperately trying to get him to look at me and shut up. When the officer finally turns to me, he realizes what has happened and grows very pale.)

Me: *sweetly* “I’m bi-racial, so I have a 50-50 chance of getting whatever you’re here for correct. Or, would you like me to get out a white girl to assist you?”

(The officer all but runs out of the office, leaving the other officer to apologize profusely before following him. Not surprisingly, his termination was announced a few weeks later, and quite a few complaints of racism were listed among the reasons.)