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Friday, February 21, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Back in The Saddle
I climbed back on the horse and dug my spurs in: I'm writing 1000 words a day on the current project until the draft is done.
See you in fifty or so.
See you in fifty or so.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Things I've Learned In 14 Years
Today marks my fourteenth year in law enforcement so I thought I might share a few of the things I've learned.
People can be fucking stupid. That includes me.
The job will never love you, no matter how much you love it.
Addicts take no time off. You can encounter them at any time, under any conditions.
Gangsters do take time off. You'll rarely encounter them before 1000hrs. Gangsters almost always start out mama's boys, crying for attention from mama.
Traffic stops are not routine.
If it looks to good to be true, it will definitely bite you.
Yes, you may have to touch that vermin-infested criminal, but you don't have to smell him.
If you are fighting with someone in the middle of the street and didn't call it in, you are on your own, no matter how many civilians are watching. They'll record your actions, but don't count on them helping you.
Shaking it off is for games, not work. You get hurt, you report that shit.
A full moon affects some people, sometimes. Be aware that you might be the person affected.
Domestic abusers do not generally change their stripes. Pedophiles do not change.
You are going to see things that should not be seen. Hear things that cannot be unheard.
Write the best report you can, every time. You never know when someone is going to get arrested on that stolen property report and you'll be called to testify.
Accidents happen a lot less often than collisions.
Don't bring that shit home. Don't wear your boots home, and don't take your shit out on the kids, pets, or spouse. That said, figure out how to lance those wounds so they don't come out at night.
Drinking is not a solution, no matter how fun it can be.
Suicide is not an option. Everything ends, including pain.
If you see a fellow officer in pain, put it all on hold and help them, even if you have to overcome resistance to do so.
Cultivate courtesies even as you learn to talk shit. Know when to use one or the other.
Stay in policy. It might be stupid, but it might protect you from stupid, too.
Supervisors are not out to screw you, but they also may not be looking out for your best interests, either.
When in doubt it is better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.
It's also better to write the report, no matter how pointless or long, than expend even more effort trying to avoid taking that report.
People can be fucking stupid. That includes me.
The job will never love you, no matter how much you love it.
Addicts take no time off. You can encounter them at any time, under any conditions.
Gangsters do take time off. You'll rarely encounter them before 1000hrs. Gangsters almost always start out mama's boys, crying for attention from mama.
Traffic stops are not routine.
If it looks to good to be true, it will definitely bite you.
Yes, you may have to touch that vermin-infested criminal, but you don't have to smell him.
If you are fighting with someone in the middle of the street and didn't call it in, you are on your own, no matter how many civilians are watching. They'll record your actions, but don't count on them helping you.
Shaking it off is for games, not work. You get hurt, you report that shit.
A full moon affects some people, sometimes. Be aware that you might be the person affected.
Domestic abusers do not generally change their stripes. Pedophiles do not change.
You are going to see things that should not be seen. Hear things that cannot be unheard.
Write the best report you can, every time. You never know when someone is going to get arrested on that stolen property report and you'll be called to testify.
Accidents happen a lot less often than collisions.
Don't bring that shit home. Don't wear your boots home, and don't take your shit out on the kids, pets, or spouse. That said, figure out how to lance those wounds so they don't come out at night.
Drinking is not a solution, no matter how fun it can be.
Suicide is not an option. Everything ends, including pain.
If you see a fellow officer in pain, put it all on hold and help them, even if you have to overcome resistance to do so.
Cultivate courtesies even as you learn to talk shit. Know when to use one or the other.
Stay in policy. It might be stupid, but it might protect you from stupid, too.
Supervisors are not out to screw you, but they also may not be looking out for your best interests, either.
When in doubt it is better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.
It's also better to write the report, no matter how pointless or long, than expend even more effort trying to avoid taking that report.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
May Your Evening Be Asshole-Free
"May your evening be asshole-free!"is not just the name of my next Ska band, it's what I think I shall start to tell friends as I depart their company of an evening.
My day was most decidedly not asshole-free.
This morning, a young, heavily-muscled munchkin walked into court, and started asking questions while we were in session. The judge told him to leave. He did as ordered, but the man-child decided to loudly announce his discontent as he departed, using expletives.
I informed him in no uncertain terms that such behavior was unacceptable.
He puffed, pouted, and petulantly called me any number of (and because he lacked creativity, the same) expletives as he walked away. The hall was packed with people, making his childish act and his hateful speech very public.
"You just a bitch without that gun and badge," he called, over his shoulder.
I did not engage with his screeching attempts to poo-fling my direction. I had better things to do.
I returned to my other duties. I started to let it go.
Twenty minutes later, he has the temerity to ask for assistance.
It being my duty, I agreed to assist him.
As we stepped out into the hallway, now empty of persons, I said to him, "So, if, as you claim, I am a bitch, what does that make you?"
"Huh?" was the pithy wisdom he chose to answer my query with.
"Well, earlier, you were quite clear in claiming that you were absolutely certain that I am a bitch without my star and gun. So now, I was just wondering: if a person asks a bitch for assistance, would that not make you that bitch's bitch, however temporarily?"
"What?" the philosopher asked.
"Do I really need to make it more clear, sir?"
Clearly wishing he were elsewhere, the bumpy little twerp chose to attempt to misdirect me, "I don't know where I'm supposed to be."
"I see. And do you usually shout curses at someone and then seek their assistance?"
"Dude, I wasn't shouting."
I just looked at him.
"Alright, I wasn't that loud."
"Be a man: there's no one else here to hear you say it."
"I was shouting."
"And?"
Mumble...
"You were shouting aaaand?"
Mumble...
I cupped a hand behind my ear, "I can't hear you."
"I'm sorry."
"A sincere apology must be as public as the act that required it, but since everyone else knew where they had to be and have since cleared the hall, and it is my duty when wearing my uniform, star and gun, I will assist you."
"Uh..."
"No need to thank me, it's what I'm paid to do. Now, let's see where you're supposed to be..."
My day was most decidedly not asshole-free.
This morning, a young, heavily-muscled munchkin walked into court, and started asking questions while we were in session. The judge told him to leave. He did as ordered, but the man-child decided to loudly announce his discontent as he departed, using expletives.
I informed him in no uncertain terms that such behavior was unacceptable.
He puffed, pouted, and petulantly called me any number of (and because he lacked creativity, the same) expletives as he walked away. The hall was packed with people, making his childish act and his hateful speech very public.
"You just a bitch without that gun and badge," he called, over his shoulder.
I did not engage with his screeching attempts to poo-fling my direction. I had better things to do.
I returned to my other duties. I started to let it go.
Twenty minutes later, he has the temerity to ask for assistance.
It being my duty, I agreed to assist him.
As we stepped out into the hallway, now empty of persons, I said to him, "So, if, as you claim, I am a bitch, what does that make you?"
"Huh?" was the pithy wisdom he chose to answer my query with.
"Well, earlier, you were quite clear in claiming that you were absolutely certain that I am a bitch without my star and gun. So now, I was just wondering: if a person asks a bitch for assistance, would that not make you that bitch's bitch, however temporarily?"
"What?" the philosopher asked.
"Do I really need to make it more clear, sir?"
Clearly wishing he were elsewhere, the bumpy little twerp chose to attempt to misdirect me, "I don't know where I'm supposed to be."
"I see. And do you usually shout curses at someone and then seek their assistance?"
"Dude, I wasn't shouting."
I just looked at him.
"Alright, I wasn't that loud."
"Be a man: there's no one else here to hear you say it."
"I was shouting."
"And?"
Mumble...
"You were shouting aaaand?"
Mumble...
I cupped a hand behind my ear, "I can't hear you."
"I'm sorry."
"A sincere apology must be as public as the act that required it, but since everyone else knew where they had to be and have since cleared the hall, and it is my duty when wearing my uniform, star and gun, I will assist you."
"Uh..."
"No need to thank me, it's what I'm paid to do. Now, let's see where you're supposed to be..."
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