My Cop Buddy

It was August, and I was settling into my third month at my new office job. I had a brief past with office life, but never before had I truly dived into “Cubicle life.” 9am-5pm, the real deal. Staples, paper clips, legal size hanging files, and paper cuts. A monstrous leap from my jean wearing, kid bouncing nanny days. My hands were shaking the first time I had answered the phone, terrified that the client would run their mouths about investments that I had NO clue about. For the first few weeks I was exactly right. I just told them I needed to review their account or speak with “another department” and stuck the black receiver on hold. Most of the time my supervisor took the call and I listened, attempting to get a grasp of the client’s train of thought. It was rough to wrap my 23-year-old brain around retirement life and alternative investments.

Rector McCollum called the main line, and I was fortunate enough to answer. He was in a pickle, and I helped walk him through the process of paying his dues to his particular investment. He talked fast and told witty one-liners, instantly setting me at ease. He was a retired cop from Dallas, swore like a sailor, knowing no bounds. I sat in my gray cubicle cracking up, not wanting the conversation to end. We talked on the phone for nearly ten minutes, and he kept me laughing every second of it. I hung up with the urge to take a couple laps around the office, smile plastered on my face. A few days later his payment came through in the mail and the paperwork landed on my desk. A small note accompanied it:

“Thanks for all your help. Let me know if you ever need a cop.” – Rector McCollum

This client was officially my first favorite.

A year later he wanted to stop by the office to get some more assistance. We met in the conference room, and he instantly showed his respect and gratitude for our company. His investment had been giving him some trouble, and he looked to me to bail him out. Bail him out I did, and because of his kindness I quickly completed the paperwork for him right there on the table. He pointed to my turquoise half-sleeved sweater. “Kim, when are you going to get a raise around here so that you can afford sleeves on your sweater?” His gray mustache perked up above a dorky smile, and I laughed, happy to be in his company.

He relaxed in the comfy chair, wearing a “retirement-style” Hawaiian shirt and jeans. He had big glasses and a glassy baldhead. He started sharing stories about traveling to Uruguay, Europe, and unique places around Texas. He gave me tips and unbridled opinions about food, people, and the culture. I relished the few moments away from my desk, and he was glad to spill the guts on some of his police buddies with a few of his cop stories. He’d been on the job long enough to have seen pranks and shenanigans that are downright hilarious. (Or evil, depending on how you look at it). One of his friends strategically placed empty rifle shells in the bushes at Dealey Plaza in downtown Dallas (the tourist site where JFK was shot). It wouldn’t take long until someone poked around and excitedly demanded to a local police officer that they had solved the assassination of JFK.

I picked his brain for a few minutes about his work on the Dallas Police force. He talked about the days chasing fugitives and working on a Tactical Squad. He said the most fun he ever had on the job was running down people with felony warrants and hauling their butts to jail. I am not going to lie, that sounded pretty exciting compared to my line of work. I suddenly wished we could pull down the projector screen and watch a movie reel of HIS shift on the job. I told him I would love to do a Ride-along and experience a day in the life of a cop. He wrote down his branch where he was stationed and the number to call for a Cop-Ride-along. (Even though anybody can apply for a Ride-along, I felt privileged that I had a personal referral from a decorated Police Officer.)

A surprise came a few days later when someone gently placed a vase of flowers on the top of my desk. Luckily the phone call I was on was just ending (terrible timing), and my mind reeled about whom the flowers could be from. My co-worker gasped because she thought she might have missed my birthday. Or my anniversary? I cupped my hands over my mouth when the call ended, shocked. The card read, "Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you. – Rector" What? Flowers from a client? Was this legal? My co-workers laughed and applauded, as this was a first in the office. I blushed and couldn’t wait to take them home to show my husband. He wouldn’t mind, right? (No, he didn’t.)

Rector weaseled his way into my heart pretty easily. His kindness was always bursting, with little on my end to deserve it. He respects and holds others higher than himself at all times. He has friends in high places, friends in low places and everywhere in between. He spent 33 full years on the job and retired with honors. Everyday he was laying his life on the line for the city of Dallas, on the streets doing dangerous work.  I looked forward to seeing his name on my desk and eventually in one of the investments that paid out and gave him a decent chunk of cash. I was truly thrilled for him.

One time I was having trouble getting a hold of him and received an email from his broker. He broke the news to me that Rector’s wife had just passed away from cancer. It was so sudden that she was sick for 3 weeks, diagnosed, and died 2 short weeks later. I ached inside and reached out to him. I contacted the investment to hold his position because of extenuating family circumstances. I waited. I said a prayer for him. I couldn’t begin to imagine the devastation he must be going through.

I saw him soon after around Christmas time and he brought me a gorgeous orchid plant. I accepted it with a heavy heart and hugged him. The holidays for him this year would be so very different. Cold. Quiet. Lonely. Out of all the friends Rector has in his world, he just lost his very best one.

Since those days, we have seen each other a few times. When we left Dallas, I told him that I would always remember him. He had the type of personality that reached and touched you in a very personal way. He could make you laugh in a heartbeat, but in the same conversation speak into your life in such a positive and inspiring way. Rector is a crazy uncle mixed with a tender-hearted friend. His compassion has reached to so many people that I am sure I won’t be the last to write about this man. He’s a hero. He’s a blessing. He is someone I hope to meet up with again, and surely someone I will never ever forget.