Reading Amber's post about her and Rusty's recent APD experience just rekindled my ire that I previously stowed about the Fulton County Sheriff's Department. The Keystone cop crew, headed up by stuttering ass Myron Freeman, does many things for our fair city.

They shred documents in order to keep their fearless leader at his job.

They help keep our jails safe by lying to city judges. (video link)

They also handle the enforcement of eviction claims and dispossessory warrants, and if you've clicked the two links above, they handle this just as sloppily as they've handled those situations.

This month, I was late on my rent. In the six years of me renting apartments in Atlanta (damn, that sounds like a lot), I've only been late three times. Once was at the piece-of-shit apartment over at the Darlington, the second time was at the piece-of-shit apartment complex over on Peachtree Avenue, and now this place in the West End. And this time, I told my complex I was between jobs and would pay on the 15th with the late fee AND pay next month's rent. They were like "no problem" and that they wouldn't file a dispossessory warrant. Well apparently, three times — warrant or not — is enough for the FCSD to come out and try to evict you.

Here's the scene: I just get back from lunch at work and I check my phone to see a message from my apartment complex. I figured that it was just them calling as a reminder on paying the rent. Well, it wasn't.

"Yes Mr. Karsh, we're calling because we have two officers here from the Fulton County Sherrif's department who need entry to your apartment. Please give us a call when you get this message."

Well needless to say, I had to leave work (thank God the folks at work were so cool about it) and go handle the situation. I figured the complex wanted the money tout de suite so I went to go get a money order from the post office, which I've done in the past. Turns out my bank put a cap on my account where I can't spend more than $500 a day. Bullshit. So now I've gotta head down to the credit union to get the money order from there, which is a pain in the ass. I get there, and they're closed. It's 3:40pm. They're supposed to close at 4:00pm. And I know by the time I get to the other credit union location, they'll be closed as well. And I can't get the money from an ATM because of the damn $500 limit. I call my complex and let them know what the deal is.

"Well the officers said they'll be here until 5:00pm and then they'll have to enter the premises."

"I'm having a little problem here. I tried to get a money order from the post office and they won't do it because my bank put a cap on my account. And I went to my bank to get a cashier's check, but they're closed. And I can't get the money out of the ATM either because of the cap."

"Mr. Karsh, are you paying with cash?"

"No…I'm paying with my debit card."

"And it has a VISA or MasterCard logo?"

"Yes; it's a VISA debit card."

"Boy…you can pay you rent here with the card. We got a machine and everything."

Damnit, you could've knocked me over with a feather at that point. I came back to the complex and walked into the office. There were two Fulton County Sheriff officers sitting on the couch. It was 4:30pm.

"Yes, I'm here to pay my rent — we spoke on the phone earlier."

One of the officers hopped up. "Mr. Karsh?"

"Yes?"

"Oh nothing…I was just checking." Just checking what, pig? Your audio parallax? Sit down somewhere.

The other officer pulled out a clipboard and made mention that my rent has been late three times in my six year renting history across the city of Atlanta.

"Yes, I know that. And in each case, I've paid and went through the proper channels to get things resolved."

"Well you'll be on our 'watchlist' now since you have three dispossessory warrants filed."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, officer." Watchlist? WTF is that about?

I signed the debit card receipt, but not before the officer who hopped up earlier chimed in with this statement: "You know, if you just paid your rent on time, you wouldn't have to go through this. Kids like you might want to think about that in the future."

Now, what I wanted to say was "kiss my ass", but I feared getting shot up and then having it blamed on a botched drug raid or something. You know how the police here are. I'm a Black gay man in Atlanta; I am well aware of how a mistaken phrase, gesture or look might land me in mortal danger. So I kept my inner smart ass in check and responded with "Duly noted, officer."

Crisis averted.

I also renewed my lease, which means I'll be here for at least another year. It ain't paradise, but it's one of the few modestly affordable apartments ITP that's spitting distance to a MARTA rail station and hasn't gone condo.

Yet.