Monday, Bloody Monday

Plenty of sirens this bank holiday Monday as various Police response cars dopplered around the town, but no foot patrols spotted. Just us lot as usual on our errand to try and keep the streets running smoothly. Not that we always succeed.

Today I have had a vehicle driven at me (One I had just ticketed – but it’s a risk you take in this game), and several quite virulent exchanges with some very pushy members of the General Dyslexic.
For example; “Restrictions don’t apply on Bank Holidays” Says who?
Me; “Yes they do sir, and that’s why I booked your car.”
Retort; “You utter Cunt!” Ah, an intellectual.
Me; “Good day sir.”
Retort; “Was until you ruined it!”
That was the general tone all day. Some people simply felt aggrieved that they couldn’t park where the hell they liked. My job is to see that they don’t; ergo the multiple conflicts.

I even had one very silly person indeed begin to raise his fists to me. I just folded my arms and stood back just a little out of his reach, looking straight into his eyes. That way I’d at least have had a clue about when he was going to ‘kick off’ and do my best to dodge. What actually happened was that there were a couple of tense seconds before he made a cry of frustration and stalked off. Had he tried to make good his threat my cap and badge would have probably come off, and then I’d just be a private citizen and allowed to defend myself (Although I’d probably have been fired for it – but bollocks to that). Which leads me to this old chestnut;
“What do you say to a six foot plus Traffic Warden with a Judo belt and wearing steel toe caps?”
“You’re a complete twat?”
“Wrong – try again.”
“Oops, sorry Officer, I won’t do it again.”
“Correct! Now push off or I’ll book your car.”

One mistake I never make is to turn my back and walk away before they do. That’s an invitation to get knocked down from behind. If I do get attacked, I at least want to know where it’s coming from. Still got the shakes for twenty seconds after it had all calmed down. Covered it up well, and no one seemed to notice but me. It was just a case of “Next!” and getting on with the job.

Notwithstanding, I had to keep my mouth tightly shut and take all the crap handed out instead. By shifts end I was seriously pissed off, and it took almost an hour of soothing words from my dear lady wife to cool my fevered wits from fever pitch.

Incidentally, none of this went on any report form. If I’d tried to do that, I’d never have got any patrolling done on Monday. This form filling is all a big game of ‘cover your arse’ anyway. Not for me, but for the higher ups, so they don’t get blamed or sued for anything (Perish the thought). At the moment of writing I’m still so steamed (Two days later) that if summoned to account for my behaviour by Management I’m inclined to simply sit down and wait for them to finish before saying, “Is that all?” then leave the room to get back on patrol. They can fire me if they like, but I at least won’t have to take shit from both sides of the fence without any comeback anymore.

Sometimes using your brains isn’t enough and you just want to lash out and sod the consequences. I hate being an unwilling victim.