Day 9 - "Paperwork"- 6/29/09

Last night I slept like a baby, which was good because I really needed the rest to fight the onsets of a cold. When I woke up, I didn't feel any worse than I did the day before. In fact, I actually felt better! I was so pleased that I was beginning to knock this crap down before it ever became a serious problem. However, my Dad informed me that we were headed to my Mom's for dinner, which is always a good thing. She cooked salmon, which is something I could really eat every day, regardless if it is raw or cooked. When it comes to food, I love trying new things and going to new places, but when I find something I like, I tend to stick to it. I'm one of those people who only orders 1-3 entrees from a given menu, except for one restaurant: Taco Bell. I am "proud" (I don't know if you can even call it that) to say I have tried absolutely every dish on their menu, but I refuse to tackle the #9 by myself (the family value meal) in fear of dying from congestive heart failure.



Dinner was heartfelt, to say the least. My Mom just gets overwhelmed sometimes about my career choice and the big decision that I made and the decisions I will continue to make, but I still had a good time nonetheless. I know that she knows that I will be safe, and whatever decisions I make, personal or professional, will be in my best interest.



After dinner, I got dressed and began the drive down to work. I did need to make a pit stop at the local pharmacy for some more lozenges and such, so I parked and walked inside. Keep in mind this is roughly 9:30 at night, so most kids, especially younger ones, should be in bed. I look to my left down towards the registers, and low and behold there are kids, probably ranging from 4-14, throwing 1LB bags of candy and shit at each other. I looked directly at the cashier with one of those "aren't you going to do something about this?" looks, to which she "replied" with a "I am too tired to put up with their crap" rolling of the eyes and sulk. Well, even though I was out of my jurisdiction, I felt that it was my job at least as a human being to speak with the kids about their behavior, because not only was it driving both the parents and the employees crazy, but how does it look on me if the manager of the store walks in and there's merchandise all over the floor and a lack of order is ensuing and I'm just standing there ignoring it? I mean, I'm walking around in a billboard, so getting any of my basic information and reporting my "misconduct" isn't too hard with the patches on my shoulders and my shiny name tag on my right breast pocket. With all of this weighing out in my head, I decided to react.

I walked up to the boys and talked to them. I said to them in a collected and friendly manner, "Listen guys, the manager really isn't going to be happy that you're throwing all of his stuff around, so I want you to do me a favor and pick up all of this stuff and put it back where you found it, OK?" They apologized and put all the stuff back. Mission accomplished.

The drive to work was uneventful, and I began the evening riding with the Sergeant, but eventually was turned over to a different guy who I had never ridden with before, and this was a guy who liked to stay busy, which I enjoyed. He was also very down to Earth and sociable, which I liked even better. We began with some area checks and some community patrols, all of which were uneventful. We then headed out to the local school to do a foot patrol. The school complex houses the playground, new gym, old gym, and school itself. During our check of the new gym, we found a door unlocked, so it was time to conduct a building search. This meant we had to take our weapons out. I knew in my mind I had to draw, but just to be safe, I waited until he drew his to be sure I didn't surprise him. All of my academy tactics came back to me. My weapon came out of the holster fluidly, as did my flashlight. I assumed the "Watchman" position in regards to my flashlight/firearm grip, and we began searching the building. I followed his lead, weapon pointed down, finger OFF the trigger. We searched the weight room, basketball courts, and bath/locker rooms, all of which yielding nothing out of the ordinary. We got a case number from dispatch, secured the door with flexcuffs, and left. Now it was time to do some paperwork: A short-form incident report.

I opened a new short-form report file on the computer and began filling in all the blank spaces. Roughly 20 minutes later I was done. We then met the SGT on checkpoint, where the guy I was riding with said, "Don't be disappointed if he kicks it back to you." The SGT took the report in his hands, checked it over, and said it was pretty good and said he would keep it. Then I heard the "Ah!" that comes with the discovery of something. The SGT then said, "You forgot to put the case number. Oh well, I'll fill it in for you and it will be good to go." I thought for a minute, and asked for the report back. I put in a lot of effort to make sure everything was typed and neat, and to me filling in a case number by hand takes away from the whole professionalism of it. Plus, it's my first report, so it HAS to look good. I told him I would fill in the blank and turn it in to him later, which I did. I felt a lot better about that.

The rest of the shift went uneventfully. I headed back to the station to print everything out, and sure enough the morning shift had already caught themselves a couple of drunks making a scene at one of the local watering holes. One of them was fairly quiet, while the other was quite "talkative", to put it nicely. In short, he could have made "made a sailor blush". So this guy is hammering away at everyone in the room, myself included, but I didn't care. I opened my daily activity sheet from my hard drive, and found a nice little gift inside of my file.... the file was GONE!" All that proactive work was gone. Superb, really superb. I now had to type it out ALL OVER AGAIN! FUCK. It's ok, though. I can get this done in about a half hour. 30 minutes later, I had a new report, but as I compared the typed sheet to the written sheet, I noticed an error at the top of the page, so now I had to do it all over again. FUCK x 2. Then one of the officers needed the computer, so I just let out a long sigh, packed up my shit, and headed home.

Tonight I will be in a different patrol zone, so it should be quite an interesting night.