It’s not so much the crap you get from the ignorant and self important on the streets. It’s more the blatant monotony of it all; the grinding, day in day out single focus patrolling that acts like a carborundum grinding wheel on the sensitivities. Then there’s the attitude of management; “Do what I say or else!” Er, excuse me? Am I a grown up or some child that needs the heavy hand of discipline all the time? Can we not have a grown up discussion or do I have to waste time with the Council Union rep who has been in post so long he’s part of the management team?
You guessed it: I’ve just had my latest ‘appraisal’ and the results were derived from the merciless spreadsheets as interpreted by the acolytes of the malevolent God of the tick box. “You’re doing okay Bill, but what about..” Went the arguments of my ‘superiors’. Well I’m sorry, this is my best and it’s all you’re getting for the money. Of course I just clamped my fat mouth shut and sat there listening to the soft felt platitudes with a kind of frozen horror. More? How the hell can I give more? I’m flogging myself to death out here and they want more?
Most of us get home in a state of foot aching exhaustion at the end of a shift and they want to up the ante with more patrolling on more streets, more often? Bloody hell. Then there’s the “I’ve got a little job for you” routine where your workload is constantly increased like Chinese water torture. Drip, “don’t forget to check this” drip; “We need you to keep a record of that” drip; “can you increase patrols in this area as well as there?”. It never ends. All this wearing weighted boots. No wonder our lot get so many foot and leg related illness, and you can feel the solid knot of awful certainty in your guts; it’s going to get worse.
Sometimes I want to rip my own head off and go ten pin bowling with it. Face it; I’m not in this job to use my brains.
Neither is anyone else.