Maybe I am more of a talker than I thought I was.

This may not make much sense right off the bat. Maybe you should read this article first, and then read the one below. I was going to post a comment, and when it got to be a paragraph, I figured I should just post a post.
I took a class one semester called "Public Safety Communications." One of our textbooks was called "Report Writing for Police Officers." I had to use a pencil for the whole class. This rule being based on the fact that if you are an investigator and you are working on a case where you have video surveillance of the incident as well as the defendant’s fingerprints in the victim’s blood on the murder weapon, this guy will still have to go to court. When he does, he has a defense attorney who must defend him to their utmost ability, if not this attorney may lose his job. As a result, he (the defense) will attack you as an investigating officer and do his best by trying to make you look like an idiot, a bigot, or a pervert. I can safely bet that in this situation for every time I have read my case report, the defense attorney has read it at least three. That means that his whole defense could be based on the fact that I may be a poor speller, or have bad grammar, or tend to leave a word out here or there when I am writing in a hurry. These are all points that would be emphasized if I were to use pen to write with, and then eventually have to correct. The best way to protect myself as an officer is to use a pencil. That way if I goof up, I can erase it. The defense will get a photocopy of this report, and may not even be able to see the erase marks. The smudges aren’t really a problem because I am not a left handed writer. It is something that took a little practice to get used to, but long story short I really enjoy using a pencil much more than I did previously. Kind of the same story, but for a little different reason. I fully endorse my brother’s pencil use. BTW, I started out the class with a wooden pencil and got frustrated with the dull point thing, and always had a manual sharpener with me for a bit, but it was still kind of annoying. One day I decided to try a disposable mechanical pencil to see how far technology has come since the semi-unreliable ones that were available in middle school. I was pleasantly surprised. This pencil is my current favorite.
Pencil using has also come in very handy in the many math classes I have taken in my college career. I used to use pens in those too, only because I liked pens more.

Working drive-thru is one of my favorites.

“*pshkt* (trucker/redneck accent) Thanks for stopping by Starbucks ehhh, this is the Maver’k Man, but you can just call me Mav, ehhh how may I assist you today, over. *pshkt*”
“Heh, uh thanks uh.. Mav... ummmmmmm, can I have a grande white mocha and, uh, do you still have your sausage breakfast sandwiches?”
…….”*pshkt* Did you forget to say over? Over. *pshkt*”
“Oh, yeah, I meant do you still have any sausage breakfast sandwiches, OVER?”
“*pshkt* uh… that’s a negatory on the sausage sandwich, good buddy, I do have a sausage piadini, over *pshkt*”
“Uh, what is a sausage piadini…….over?”
“*pshkt* It’s really good, over. *pshkt*”
“What?......over.”
“*pshkt* Sausage piadini’s are really good, that’s what they are, I’ll tell you what, over. *pshkt*”
“Okay, I’ll try one….oh yeah, over.”
“*pshkt* Roger dodger, I have ehhh one grande white mocha, eh did you want whipped cream on that white mocha, over? *pshkt*”
“I know you’re making the *pshkt* sound. I hear it already, over.”
“*pshkt* that makes us twinners. So, ehhh was that a negative on the whipped cream, over? *pshkt*”
“NO, I want whipped cream, over.”
“*pshkt* Roger dodger. 10-4 on the whipped cream. So that is one grande white mocha with whipped cream, and a sausage piadini, which by the way is really good, over. *pshkt*”
“Roger, 10-4, over”
“*pshkt* Copy that, I’ll have your total for you at the window, over and out. *pshkt*”
“Okay, over and out.”

Kelton could be my boss. I bet he would be a rad one.

So I finally feel like I am fitting in a little bit at my new store. I feel a little more relaxed, and I feel like my barista’s feel the same.
Today one of them asked me how this store compared to my old one. I explained that I liked this store it is just going to take a little getting used to. He, my barista, was like you can tell the truth, seriously I won’t get offended. I explained how it was different because at my old store I had personally been responsible for training over half of the barista’s there. The remainders transferred in, but had only known me as a supervisor. Even now, thinking about the management team at my old store. I have had a hand in training every supervisor I have worked with in the last year except one. I didn’t say the bit about the supervisors though; I just realized that right now as I’m typing. But anyway, so most of the baristas at my old store could pretty much read my mind. I usually could say something like “Hey bro, could you bring me the thing and then take care of that stuff for me please.” Literally. And my guys would know what I was talking about. I also knew that all of them knew what I expected from them, so they had a tendency to get everything done how I liked it.
Anyway, today it finally sunk in about how I have held supervisory positions at nearly every job I have had since I was 16, but have always worked my way up. This is the first time I have actually been put somewhere new as a manager, and it is kind of rough. I think I am getting the hang of it though.
Today was a good day.
-p

That is bug next to a quarter in a cup.

So I remembered a story. I think it changes the last story a little bit. But not whole lot, just kind of. Anyway…
When I got out of high school and military recruiters would not stop calling me, I hatched a genius idea. I decided to agree to come down to my local recruiter’s office one time. I was going to take this practice AZVAT or ASVET or HAZMAT or whatever the test is that you take that is kind of like an SAT, but special for the military or something. I went with my buddy Ben. We decided to see how absolutely horrible we could do on the test and try and convince the government that we had trouble tying our shoes by ourselves, and in no way possessed the capability to carry a rifle and use it intelligently.
I goofed up. In my opinion the questions were so easy, that it would be obvious that I was trying to bomb the test, and the recruiter would have a special type of job just for somebody that fits that psychological profile. I don’t know what it would be. Counter intelligence? I don’t know. Anyway, I ended up doing my best and getting something like 98%. When I walked out of the room the guy was standing right there beaming. He had a list of jobs with stars by them that I qualified for and told me I would be well taken care of, blah, blah, blah. I looked at him, and said:
“Mister, thanks for this opportunity. The only problem is that I believe that these wars we have been getting in are mistakes. If I am going to carry a gun and work for my government I would rather do it in my own city, on my own streets, enforcing laws and policies that I understand. I appreciate you, and all the other soldiers that are okay with forcing freedom and democracy on the rest of the world, but I personally believe I sleep safe at night because I have 911. I feel like I could serve my family, community and country better as a cop than a soldier.”
I then promptly walked out and went straight to my local community college to figure out how to become a cop.
Maybe that does change the story more that just a little bit. Whatever. I am just happy that I remembered why police work was so fascinating in the first place.

Oh man, this is awesome.

wow.

I sat here for about 5 minutes thinking of a title.

The curse of the perfectionist.
Have you ever just stopped doing something or not even tried to do something because you see that something being done better by someone else and you know you will not be as good as they are at whatever it may be? Holy crap! That sounds kind of like me. It’s always like all or nothing. No grey area. I think that is why I have not been keeping this up to date. Well, today I decided that I don’t care if my thing is not the best or wittiest or funniest or smartest or whateverest. I think I had forgotten why I originally started writing “the idiot book” and just remembered today.
With that out of the way, let me tell what is going on.
Today I applied to a couple of sheriff offices here in So. California. I applied for Cadet/Deputy Trainee positions. “What?” You may be asking yourself. “I though he was going to school for like a CSI type thing, but more awesome judging by the way he described it.” Yes. That is correct.
Funny story.
When I first decided to go to college as a young buck, I was looking at the course catalog and out of everything the school offered, I was really attracted to the idea of learning about police work. I couldn’t understand why, I didn’t even know what I wanted to learn about it. For those of you who knew me back then probably understand why I couldn’t understand why I wanted to learn about being a police officer.
Maybe that is why this is a funny story. I don’t know, whatever.
My first semester of college I took: Intro to Criminal Justice, Intro to Corrections, and Criminology. No generals, just majors. By the end of my first semester I had decided that I wanted to be involved in criminal investigations. I thought the coolest job in the world would be as a Police Detective working vice or on the Gang Unit or something like that. It was really kind of weird explaining to my buddies that I may one day have to arrest them for what they are doing, and chose not to do what they are doing for that reason, if I get arrested I may not be able to do what I really want to do when I grow up.
Fast forward about five years.
I married a beautiful woman who said I could do anything with my life except be a cop. This was based on her experience living with policemen. Okay. That was a compromise I was willing to make. It has been worth it. During one of the many conversations I had with my beautiful wife about our future she asked:
“Seriously, do you want to be cop?”
“yes. Pretty much the only thing I ever wanted to be more than a cop is married to you forever.”
“hmmkay. Let’s talk about it.”
Later that week after much discussion, I got it. I got permission to be a sworn officer of the law. I was so excited about this that I forgot to get it writing. I should have, but I was too excited. The best part about it is that at least 75% of police agencies in the U.S. have sworn officers do double duty as a Patrol and Scene officer. Woo Woo. Seriously. My two favorite fascinations in one job.
Although I bet I could go on about much more, I think this is enough for tonight.
-p