Once upon a time (Back in the mid 80’s to be specific) I was one of Dayton Ohio’s finest, working a beat in the 3rd District.

A horrible part of town, I’m not afraid to say.

The city didn’t give a shit about it, or the poor people who lived there. (“Poor” meaning literally.)

In fact, many of the buildings were still in charred ruins from twenty years before. A reminder of the riots in the 60’s.

When the Ohio National Guard had to be called in the keep the violent “we’re not gonna take it” crowd from crossing over the river and spreading their violence and mayhem to the other side of town.

Where all the local politicians who controlled the city lived.

But I digest.

This piece is not to lament the social and racial injustices I witnessed in Dayton, Ohio.

This piece is about a crazy old woman who lived in the 3rd district. And who called the police every time she became delusional.

Or… maybe she WASN’T delusional. Maybe she just saw things the rest of us were too brainwashed to see.

But I digest again.

Judas H. Priest! Spelling Nazis have ZERO sense of humor. Their lives must TOTALLY suck.

Yes, I know the word is “digress.” But that ain’t funny, now is it?

Anyhoo… this old woman always called the police when she was seeing things.

And dispatch always sent a two-man crew (or 2 one-man crews) because they knew she had a history of violence.

And crazy people have superhuman strength. I saw that 118lb. woman toss around 200 lb. cops like they were frickin’ rag dolls.

Here’s what would always happen:

The crew would show up. The crazy woman would tell the cops there were blue flying monkeys in her house stealing her jewelry and she wanted them arrested or killed.

Or whatever her current delusion was.

Inevitably one or both of the cops would tell her to settle down because the blue monkeys didn’t exist and she was imagining things.

And she would insist she was NOT imagining things. And demanded the police do something.

The police always refused. And in their ever-condescending tone would basically tell her she’s crazy because there were no blue flying monkeys.

And she would go off.

And the fight would be on.

Once she was subdued, the ambulance was called to take her to the hospital to shoot her up with Thorazine.

Pissed off sergeants came out to investigate the use of force.

Pissed off cops now how to do use of force reports and all kinds of other paperwork.

It always ended in one big mess.

So I knew my day was going to be ruined one afternoon when I heard dispatch call my crew number:

“335A, see the woman at yadda yadda address about a disturbance. I believe you’re familiar with this caller. 334 is on the way as back up but is 15 minutes away. Don’t make contact until backup is there.”

But that day I had a plan.

I had been researching how to deal with mental patients. And was anxious to try out my new techniques.

So like any macho young 20-something full of testosterone, I ignored protocol and entered the woman’s home without backup.

“How can I help you today, Mrs. Looney?” (Names have been changed to protect the innocent. And hopefully get a chuckle.)

“Follow me,” she says while leading me out to the back yard.

She stands there, hands on hips looking very perturbed.

“What’s the problem, Mrs. Looney?”

“Don’t you see them? They’re all over the place! They’re going to destroy my yard!”

For the record I saw nothing.

I said, “Tell me what you see so I can understand.”

“Giant chickens! They must be six feet tall! They’re all over the place. I have no idea how they got here but I want them gone!”

Woo hoo! I finally get to try out my new “how to handle a delusional person” techniques.

So I said…

“I believe that YOU believe there are giant chickens in your back yard.”

This woman looks at me, her shoulders relax, her entire countenance changes, she smiles and says… get this…

“Thank you, officer.”

I think I just may have been the first person to acknowledge that I believed that she was seeing what she was seeing.

So I asked how I could help her. And she says she just wants the giant chickens gone.

So I did what any highly trained law enforcement officer would do…

I ran around the back yard, waving my arms and shouting “Shoo, giant chickens! Shoo!”

After a few minutes I ask if she’s happy with my service.

And she hugs me.

No backup required. No ambulance needed. No Thorazine.  (Although *I* would have liked to have some.) No use of force report required and no pissed off sergeant.

An elegantly simple solution to a complex problem.

That day I discovered how effective “I believe that YOU believe that…” can be when dealing with delusional people.

In my current role I deal with a LOT more delusional people than I ever dealt with as a law enforcement officer.

So I have the opportunity to say “I believe that YOU believe that” a lot.

“Hey Doberman Dan, I just need more traffic and my business can grow.”

I believe that YOU believe that.

“I need to make more money so I need some new copy.”

I believe that YOU believe that.

“The most important thing I need is new customers.”

I believe that YOU believe that.

And the most HARMFUL delusion:

“I don’t need help. I can figure this out on my own.”

I believe that… well, actually I believe that MAYBE that’s true.

You COULD figure it out on your own.

And you’re probably gonna lose decades of your life and burn through a MOUNTAIN of cash in the process.

Most likely you’re gonna get discouraged and quit before you figure it out.

And then by default, relegated to return to a lifetime of living in quiet desperation with all the rest of the hypnotized broke people.

When there’s no need for you to do that.

You see, I provide all the help you need.

All you have to do is join me and get “knighted” into the Marketing Camelot.

I’ve already traversed the minefield you want to cross.

And I got “blowed up good, blowed up REAL good” many times. (I love obscure 80’s comedy references.)

So why in the world do you want to risk stepping on mines when you can have me lead you by the hand and avoid them all?

All you have to do is click here…
All the best,
Doberman Dan

 

 

P.S. Listen, success demands commitment.

And it demands continual investment in yourself.

You’ll NEVER be successful if you pussy-foot around and don’t have the balls to make a commitment and invest in yourself.

“But Doberman Dan… I can’t afford to invest in myself and join the Marketing Camelot.”

I only have one response to that. And it’s how I respond to ALL delusional people:

I believe that YOU believe that.

Click here to stop being delusional and start being successful…

Pax vobiscum.