8 things cops love to complain about
Oh good, the new [insert rank] is here. Hey, look, he wants to change how we’ve always done things
Police work can often seem like a “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t” career path. That is to say, that after a certain amount of years, you learn that you can’t please all the people all the time.
I’ve been told I shouldn’t be so curt during a traffic stop. I’ve also been told I shouldn’t smile so much during a traffic stop. Mixed messages much?
It’s these kinds of experiences (plus countless others) that lead a lot of officers to complain. Lineups can sometimes take on the tone of epic bitch-fests where we whine about this or that and commiserate with one another about the assininity of it all. (Yeah, that’s right, I made up a word.)
Without further ado, here are some of the things we love to complain about in no particular order:
Oh good, the new [insert rank] is here. Hey, look, he wants to change how we’ve always done things. He’ll probably want us to hand out cookies during traffic stops to soften our image in the community. If I had a dollar for every time one of us complained about whatever new program the Powers That Be wanted to institute, I could have retired years ago.
It doesn’t really matter if they’re on “our side” or not. We don’t really enjoy their company. DAs suck because they leave us sitting in a room for hours on end only to come back with an inevitable, “He took a deal, you can go” spiel. Defense attorneys suck because they are defense attorneys. My favorite one, though, is the armchair lawyer. You know...the guy who took like three real estate law classes before he dropped out to make surfboards for a living...that dude always knows the law.
We really don’t dig the media. My buddy will tell you they only report what we tell them and when we don't tell them much, they operate with no small bit of artistic license. Let’s not forget, friends, the media is more about selling ads than they are about running positive stories. Positive stories don’t get the same ratings as man’s inhumanity to man.
Let me start by saying I love kids. But only three. And they're mine. Everyone else’s kids are a total crapshoot. God bless each and every school resource officer on the planet. I don’t know how y’all do it. Seriously. The generation we are currently raising is so misinformed about what they believe their rights to be, it’s staggering. Which leads me to...
If I dislike your kids, it's your fault. You have monumentally failed at teaching any kind of personal responsibility because you’re too concerned with being your kid’s buddy than their parent. I can’t fix in 15 minutes what it took you 15 years to screw up. #HarshButTrue
That may just be me. Screw you, burning ball of fire. #SummerIsStupid
Is there ever a convenient time for court? If you work the graveyard shift, the answer is no. If you work swings, the answer is no. If you work days, the answer is not really. Our traffic court is at 0830 hours. You know, the height of commute (read: ticket writing) time. Court days mean more hustle later in the day because Lord knows the court system moves at the speed of smell. And if you get a defendant who loves the Internet and is dumb enough to have “researched” how to get out of a ticket? Well, you better pray your case gets called first because, although entertaining, these tend to go a little longer than usual.
Listen, we love you. Honestly, we do. We didn’t do all the stuff we do, wear all the uncomfortable shit we do and respond to your house for the umpteenth time for your “uncontrollable juvenile” if we didn't. That being said, though, we'd deeply appreciate it if you'd do us a solid: Man up and take some responsibility. Seriously. Have an issue with your neighbor parking in front of your house? Man up, take your happy ass over to their house and talk to them. *Gasp* If it’s the middle of the day and you see someone you don’t recognize in your backyard you can certainly call us. Understand though, that if the same situation happened to any of us, we'd go into the backyard and say something akin to, “Hey, man! What the hell are you doing in my backyard?”
These thoughts have passed through the mind of every police officer since the beginning of time. I don’t care what anyone tells you.