Man Down!

No, not a grisly shooting range story.  Sorry to disappoint.  We lost our third recruit.  I didn’t know him, but I guess he drove a pretty nice Mercedes to class and during introductions the first week said that he decided to take a year off work and try out this police thing.  Guess he figured if he’s got enough money to drive a fancy car and not work for a year, what does he need to get yelled at for not having his tie bar on straight for?  Or maybe it just wasn’t for him.  Whatever the case, that’s three of our original 49 that have bitten the dust.  I have a feeling we’ll be losing a few more in the next few weeks.  Tomorrow begins the first of the physical stuff:  shooting and defensive tactics (DT).

So far 90% of everything we’ve done has been in the classroom.  Yes, we’ve done a few push-ups, but nothing that anybody should be concerned with (more on that later).  We got a little taste of firearms last week, but that was all in classroom about safety and such.  We did get to handle some real weapons though, which just about everyone enjoyed.  I say just about because I’m not sure recruit Jane was all that jazzed about it.  The instructor was having us pass a revolver around the class (unloaded of course) for us to look at and play with, and the second it got to Jane she immediately pass it to me without so much as a once over.  The instructor took note and asked her what was the matter.

“I don’t know anything about guns.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to learn.  Go ahead, take it back.  Play with it a little bit.”

She did and he and recruit Ben, apparently well versed in all things firearms, helped her get a little more comfortable with the gun.  Just a little.  It’s not unusual to be intimidated by a big shiny revolver, or any other gun, and a healthy respect for their destructive power is essential to not hurting yourself or someone else, but if policing is to be your business you better get pretty comfy with them pretty quick.  I don’t know much about guns, hadn’t fired a real one until I was 30 and don’t have my own yet, but I’m not afraid to put my hands on the cold steel.  Then again, I’m a guy and she’s a girl.  I’ve seen little boys eat their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into the shapes of guns.  I think its in our blood.

So, with the beginning of shooting we’ll find out if anybody else has a similar aversion to things that go boom, or maybe it will finally become apparent to them that part of the job of police officer is understanding that you might have to use that thing that goes boom to end someones life and that may not sit right.  I wouldn’t fault anyone for that, its better off they figure that out now.

DT will push some of us to our physical limits and may thin the herd further.  Or maybe not.  Maybe I’m being pessimistic.  We’ll see.  Either way, I don’t plan on being one of those thinned, so I’m looking forward to working up a sweat and shootin’ up some cardboard.

Speaking of sweating and getting back to the push-ups as promised….

Last Saturday we lined up for formation five minutes earlier than normal.  One guy apparently didn’t get the memo so he ran in a couple minutes late.  Instead of assigning him a memo the RTO decided we should do 15 push-ups instead.  Another guy forgot to shave.  Fifteen more push-ups.  A third guy who works as a security guard lost his baton at work and somehow word got back to our RTO.  Twenty more push-ups.  Fifty push-ups all together, two sets of 15, one set of 20.  Earlier that morning I was telling a fellow recruit that I really hoped we didn’t have to do any push-ups that morning because I had just done about 45 the night before and my arms were sore.

We drop to do the first 15.  We’re supposed to count together, but we don’t get in synch until about number eight.  It was pretty bad.  One person kept adding “Sir!” after every number almost every time.  If no one else is doing that shouldn’t you get a clue?  Anyway, at least they weren’t that hard to do.  We drop for the next 15.  A little tougher, but not much of a problem for me.  I could hear the RTOs giving a few a hard time, so somebody must have been struggling.  We drop for the last 20.  I’m doing fine through 10.  At about 12 they start getting really hard.  By 16 I’m pushing up as hard as I can and moving about as fast as maple syrup on a cold morning.  By 17 I fell like I’m trying to push over the Great Wall of China with all my might.  I’m pushing as hard as I can, but nothings moving.  I’m in the 1st Squad (front row) so I can’t see what’s going on behind me.  All I can see is Tim to my right, who seems to be doing fine, and Jane to my left who is no longer moving.  For all I know everyone else is going gangbusters.  The RTOs are chewing out a few, so I know I’m not alone, but is that the group I really want to be associated with?  Uh, no.  I’m convinced I’m one of the few who couldn’t finish.

We finish and stand up at attention.  As the RTOs continue to lecture, I can feel my stomach beginning to turn.  The combination of breakfast (what it was, too little, or too much I’m not really sure) and the exertion this early in the morning was doing something unwelcomed to my innards.  Standing there all I can think of is, please let us go in!  It was probably only two minutes, but it felt like 30.  Finally the class leader gave to order to march into class.  Once we enter the classroom, we’re to stand at attention at our tables until the class leader give the command to sit.  He’s always the last one into the room, but for some reason he doesn’t come in for a few minutes.  I think the RTOs wanted a word with him or something, but all I can think about is my turning stomach and launching my Special K Red Berry on to the whiteboard across the room.  I started to get all the tell-tale signs; clammy palms, a cold sweat on the brow, that tingly feeling in the back of your throat.  Just when I was about to make a dash for the door, the class leader finally game in and had us sit.  I immediately grabbed my water bottle, downed a couple swigs, and took a lot of deep breaths.  After a minute or two the feeling finally passed.

I want to be a standout in my class, but blowing chunks is definitely not the method I want to use to do it.  Hopefully I won’t have a repeat performance tomorrow.

Testing Testing One Two

This past Thursday Basic Law Enforcement Class ### had our first two tests.  The first was on our procedure manual, the second on the Criminal Justice System.  All non-physical (driving, shooting, DT, etc.) tests are multiple choice and taken on lap top computers.  The first part of class was the orientation to the testing system, and the rest of the time was spent taking the tests and then, since they are scored immediately after you hit the submit button, reviewing them.  Everyone was pretty keyed up before hand.  Friends of mine who have been through the academy already had told me that the academic stuff isn’t really too tough…as long as you keep up with the reading and study.  So I wasn’t too nervous, but being that these were the first tests there were a few anticipatory butterflies.

The way academy tests work is like this:  there are California Peace Officer Standards and Training tests (POST tests) which every police academy in the state uses, and there are some academy specific tests.  A passing score for POST tests is 75%; passing for academy tests is 80%.  If you fail a POST test you get one chance to remediate it and try again.  If you fail that second test, bye bye birdie.  You are out of the academy.  Doesn’t matter if it’s the first test or the last.  However, even if you pass that second test the score you got on the first try is the one you own and the one that counts toward your overall average.  Academy specific tests are not remediated, what you get is what you get, but you won’t be bounced for failing, necessarily.  All test scores count toward your overall average, which in order to pass the academy must be a bare minimum of 75%.

So, test days come with a certain degree of trepidation.  You do have that safety net, but then again you’re just two steps away from washing out.  All of that can be rendered moot however pretty simply—STUDYING!!!  In my youth, I wasn’t much for book learnin’ (or studying for it anyway), but once I started taking classes on my own dime a few years ago, I suddenly found a new appreciation for the cerebral arts.  Funny, that correlation between dollars and sense.

It paid off here on my first two tests as I scored an average of 95% between the two, good enough for a top three ranking.  Hopefully that’s a trend I can continue.  Overall the class did pretty well—the recruit who sits to my right averaged 91% and was ranked 16^th—but there were a few that failed the procedure manual test.  Fortunately (more or less), for them that was the academy specific test.

In our test review there was some spirited discussion about the wording of a couple questions.  Testing confidentiality precludes me from getting specific, but I will say it was an interesting conversation on some 1^st Amendment issues.  Let me ask you this, is an assembly free speech or does that fall into a different area under the umbrella of the 1^st Amendment?  Discuss.

Saturday was mostly a lecture day with a Sgt. from LAPD in to talk to us about Community Policing and Diversity.  She was a good presenter, and it was interesting to hear the perspectives of someone from such a large and high profile agency.

One funny thing from Thursday.  After our break right before our first test, the recruit who sits next to me on the left (we’ll call her Jane) didn’t return.  Her bag was still there but no one knew where she went.  The recruit to my right (we’ll call him Tim) and I had noticed earlier in the evening that the recruit that sits to Jane’s left (we’ll call him Ben) was not so subtly putting some moves on her, complimenting the tattoo on her wrist, and generally chatting her up pretty good.  When the RTO asked someone to go check her car in the parking lot, guess who jumped at the chance?  Our friend Ben.  When the RTO sent the squad leader instead, Ben took it upon himself to open Jane’s lap top and get it to the log-in screen for her.  Tim and I looked at him and just shook our heads.  “What?” he said with a sheepish grin, as if he didn’t know what we were referring to.  I don’t remember seeing a policy on inter-recruit dating, but if his goes badly, or even goodly, this could make for a long year for those of us who sit on that end of 1^st Squad.

Into Week Two

Some highlights from the last couple of classes….

First, our class leader.  The class leader has the responsibility to get us into formation, take roll, make sure we all turn our memos and assignments turned in on time, and should be the liaison between the RTOs and the recruits.  If a recruit has something we want to convey to an RTO we are to go to our squad leader, who will take it to our class leader, who will take it to the RTO.  That is of course if the squad leader or class leader doesn’t have an answer.  It might sound kind of unnecessarily bureaucratic, but its all part of teaching us about discipline and chain of command.  Our first class leader was a captain in the Marine Corps, but that was 20 years ago.  He’s 45 now, and is definitely one of the senior members of our class.  He’s worked as a business executive for the past several years, but became a victim of the economy.  At this crossroads, he decided he wanted to get back into serving his community while he was still eligible to do so, age-wise.  He seems like a pretty serious guy, and the role of class leader may have given him a little bit much by way of a feeling of importance, but not too much.  Its actually probably been good to have someone with that mindset as our first class leader; someone who isn’t afraid to take charge.  He’s not a dictator or anything, he’s actually very encouraging, but he’s not afraid to speechify a little.  Sometimes it seems a little much, but mostly its good for us. 

So far all the instructors have been excellent.  We had a Sgt. from the city I live in for a couple of sessions on Ethics, Leadership, and Professionalism.  That probably doesn’t sound too exciting, but when you’re talking about law enforcement, those are three pretty important aspects of the job.  And by pretty important, I mean of extreme importance.  How can an officer be a good officer without any of those three things?  I’ll tell you.  He can’t.  We had some very good discussions and watched some crazy videos.  That’s one of the bonuses of police academy classes, lots of crazy videos of weirdos doing strange things.

We also had deputy district attorney to introduce us to criminal law and evidence.  Another very good presenter of the material and you could just tell the guy loves being a prosecutor.  He laid the foundation for we’ll need to know out on the street.  Lots of penal code numbers to learn and retain.  Oh what joy floods my sole…actually, who am I kidding?  I actually enjoy it.

As good as those guys were, the instructor from last night has to be the tops so far.  This was one cool cat.  He was an older guy, probably early 60’s, and not very tall.  Maybe 5’7”, but with the confidence of a much larger man.  He was dressed in dark gray slacks, a black polo shirt, and a black leather jacket.  He wore stylish, rectangle rimmed eyeglasses, but the kind where the lenses are tinted dark at the top so you could never really see his eyes.  Actually, he sorta looked like a tough guy version of Roy Orbison, believe it or not.  He told us he was a retired officer from a nearby city, had done just about everything there is to do in police work, has been an instructor at the academy for 30-plus years, teaching everything from Use of Force, Defensive Tactics, Firearms, to Homicide Investigations.  The dude clearly knew his stuff too.  He said we’d be seeing him quite a few times this year, starting with last nights look at Use of Force.  He was funny and engaging, but never sugarcoated anything.  A great storyteller, but they all had a purpose, he wasn’t just reliving the glory years.  He used about every two-bit police catch phrase and cliché in just about every sentence, and a few phrases that I couldn’t have even imagined someone could come up with.  My favorite was “full-tilt boogey”, as in, “When you go to arrest someone and they start to fight back and that thing goes full-tilt boogey, you better be ready to defend yourself, folks.”  Somehow they seemed authentic coming out of his mouth.  Four and a half hours of lecture aren’t so bad when a guy like that is doing the talking.

On Saturday we had our first little taste of inspection.  Not a full-blown one to be sure.  They seem to be easing us into things, fortunately.  As we were standing in formation after roll call the RTOs had us remove our Codes to Know.  The first day of class, we were given a sheet that listed about 120 codes (penal, vehicle, welfare & institutions, etc.) that we will be memorizing over the course of the next 11 months.  They are broken up into groups of about 10, one group to be learned every month.  We put these on flashcards and keep them in our shirt pocket when at the academy so we can study them on our down time or on measured breaks.  We were instructed to have our cards made out by the previous Thursday, but weren’t told when they would start quizzing us at inspection.  If you don’t know them when you are asked at inspection, guess what?  You get to write a memo.  So Saturday, here it was.  Our first test of Codes to Know.  To be honest, I was surprised how many people didn’t know them.  There were a lot of memos handed out that morning.  But not to me!   A good part of this thing is being ready even when you aren’t told when to be ready.  As soon as they told us to make out those cards, I started memorizing.  My squad mate that sits next to me did too, but when the RTO  asked him what PC 487 was he totally froze up and couldn’t come up with anything.  I asked him what happened and he said all he heard in his head when he was asked was “Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”  Bummer for him.  (PC 487 is Grand Theft, by the way).

I’ve managed to go almost a full two weeks without getting a memo, so hopefully I can keep the streak alive.  I have a feeling we’ll have an inspection on Thursday, so I’ll be spending some extra time polishing my boots tonight, which surprisingly, I kind of enjoy.  We also have our first two tests tomorrow.  They shouldn’t be too bad.  I hope.

The Way It Works (More or Less)

So, a little bit about how the academy works and some terminology.

Ten minutes before class starts we are to FALL IN.  This means were are out in the quad area in ranks, or formation, (columns/rows) by squad, at attention.  There are five squads and basically they are the row you sit in in the classroom.  Each squad has a squad leader and there is a class leader who stands facing the formation and gives the commands. 

While in formation the class leader will call us to PARADE REST and then he’ll do roll call.  When your name is called you snap back to attention, yell “HERE, SIR!” and then snap back to PARADE REST.  After roll call the RTO might give some announcements, tell us what we suck at, try to make us laugh and then yell at us if we do, or assign any memos if we aren’t doing anything we should be doing.  That’s always fun.  Eventually I think there will be some other things that go on here, like raising the colors and maybe some news items, but this is just what we’ve done so far.

After all of this we march to where ever we happen to be going next.  So far we’ve only marched to the classroom and the push-up pad, but I have a feeling we’ll be doing a lot more of it later.  Joy.

Once we march into the classroom we are to stand at attention behind our chairs until the class leader gives us the order to take our seats.  As we sit, if we have our jackets on we all take them off.  Remember, we all have to look exactly alike.  Except for the ties.  If someone forgets their tie, the rest of us don’t get out of wearing them.  And speaking of ties…

Remember in the last post when I mentioned three people forgot their ties?  Well, here’s what happened to them.  They got assigned memos.  A memo is a writing assignment you get for doing something wrong; showing up late, having something wrong with your uniform, explaining an absence, or any other thing an RTO deems worthy.  Sometimes there’s a length requirement, sometimes not, as long as its sufficient to communicate what you were supposed to.  When you are assigned a memo it is to be turned in to your squad leader at the beginning of the next class day.  Now, that doesn’t sound so bad, but they have to be written in pencil, they have to be printed in block capital letters, and they have to be perfect.  If it is not perfect, you get it back to redo along with another one explaining why its important to have good spelling or punctuation or grammar or whatever it was that made your first one not perfect.  After a while, if you’re not careful, those could start to pile up.  On top of all your regular studying.

So here’s a funny story.  During that first day they had everyone who had it put on their PT gear.  After our intro to The Hammer we went back to the classroom.  Before dismissing us for lunch the RTOs told us that when we came back to class we should all be back in our regular, or Class A, uniforms.  Seems simple enough, yes?  No.  As the rest of us were in formation, in our Class As, waiting to go back to class after lunch, in runs one of our non-tie wearing friends…late…and still in his PT gear.  I’ll change the name, for his sake.

RTO:  Johnson!

Johnson:  Yes sir!

RTO:  Why are you late and why aren’t you in uniform!

Johnson:  I’m sorry sir!  I was writing my memo sir!

RTO:  The one from this morning?  When is that due!

Class:  The next class sir!

RTO:  Its not due until Tuesday!  Johnson, now you’ve got two more memos to write.  One for being late and one for being out of uniform.

Johnson:  Yes sir!

Brilliant strategy by Johnson for standing out to your RTOs, three memos the first day.  Wish I’d thought of that.  And by the way, at least one of his memos was returned to him to redo on Tuesday.  I shouldn’t be too hard on him though.  He’s trying hard and that could easily be me next Saturday.  We all have to work together to not only take care of oursevles, but to make sure our fellow recruits are doing what they need to be doing too.

One last quick thing before I finish, I came out to the car this morning to find my tie in a soggy heap on the driveway.  I must have dropped it getting out of my car last night and it rained heavily.  Polyester bounces right back, right?

Two Down…

Forty-seven to go.  Two days of class, two less classmates.  Like they told us the first day, its not for everyone.

D-Day

And so it begins.

I told my wife last night that I would probably wake up two hours before I needed to.  And an hour and a half, and an hour, and a half hour, etc.  And I was right.  Class started at 8 AM and I wanted to be there at least 20 minutes early, so naturally I woke up at 5 AM.  I sat up in bed, half-asleep, and sat there for a good 10 minutes trying to figure out what was going on and if 2.5 hours was enough to shave, shower, dress, and drive the 15 minutes to the academy.  I decided more sleep would probably be a good idea so I reset the alarm for 5:30 giving myself a whopping 20 minutes more sleep, rather than leaving it at the much more reasonable time of 6:15.  Anxiety will do strange things to a person.

I arrived to class in plenty of time and waited anxiously in the classroom with the rest of the recruits.  Police academies in California are generally paramilitary to one extent or the other.  Marching, standing in formation, uniform inspections, “yes sir!” getting chewed out, that kind of thing.  The one I’m attending is more of a “low stress” academy, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still take everything very seriously.  I have never been involved in anything like that before, the closest thing being football practice in high school.  So I was a little nervous.  Not a lot, just a little.

The Recruit Training Officers (RTOs) came in a little before 8 AM and got things underway.  RTOs are like the drill instructors of the academy.  They run the show.  They teach you how to line up in formation (and yell at you when you screw up), they teach you how to march (and yell at you when you screw up), they go over the rules of the campus (and yell at you when you screw up), they tell you how your uniform needs to look (and yell at you when you screw up), and basically teach you how to be a police officer… and yell at you when you screw up.  Honestly though, it wasn’t that bad.  As long as you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing, you won’t get singled out.  Unlike the three people who forgot to wear their ties and the guy whose pants looked like he slept in them.  They were most definitely singled out, and they should’ve been.  They had their procedure manuals for well over a month and ironing your pants and putting on a clip-on neck tie should not really be a problem for you if you want to be a police officer entrusted with a firearm and the authority to use it.  But maybe I’m off base there.

I’ll get to their punishments in another post, but there is a pretty good story about one of the tie forgetters.

Most of the morning was spent going over the basics.  We were rearranged to sit in alphabetical order and these were to be our seats for the duration.  The RTOs asked for a show of hands from those with military service and those folks were assigned as our five squad leaders and class leader.  We were told that we are all to be dressed exactly alike at all times and it’s the class leaders responsibility to make sure we do.  As we sat in the classroom, some had the coats on and some off.  The RTOs told the class leader to make a decision: jackets on or jackets off?  “Jackets off!” he said.  Late, when we were getting ready to go outside for a break and people started to put their jackets on, the RTOs stopped us.  “Class leader, jackets on or off?”  He chose on.  But wouldn’t you know it, one person forgot to bring their’s.  So guess what?  No jackets for anybody the rest of the day.  Oh, and by the way it was cold on Saturday.

After some classroom basics we went outside to drill, which one of the RTOs said was going to be hilarious.  It was…for him…not us.  Do you know what happens when you take 49 people with little to no drilling experience and have them try to do uncomplicated movements in unison while staying in perfectly straight lines?  Neither do I, because our lines most definitely did not stay straight.  By the end of the day we were much better at it, but I’m sure we’re still terrible by any real standard.

About mid-way through the morning one of the RTOs asked who had brought their PT (Physical Training) gear.  Doh!  I had told my wife the night before that even though I was sure we wouldn’t need it, I was going to bring my PT gear just to be safe.  But for some reason I didn’t.  It wasn’t the end of the world, but while those that had it went for a brief run, those without it (the minority) got to spend some time with the coach.  Or as he calls himself, The Hammer.  Why not The File or The Plane, or even The Chisel?  The Hammer?  That doesn’t sound like its going to be too good for us.  The real PT stuff won’t start until June, but he gave us just a little taste and it was plenty.  I’ve already been training, but I need to kick it up to be ready by summertime.  He had us do some frozen pushups and about 80000 jumping jacks, but at least we got to take our ties off.

After that bit of happy fun time we broke for lunch.  The afternoon was much less intense as it was devoted to the school portion of our training.  Our instructor was a retired Lieutenant from a nearby city who was laid back, interesting, and funny.  He even let those that were cold wear their jackets in the classroom.  He introduced us to the Criminal Justice System and Crime Scenes and Evidence.  I think he even let us out a minute or two early.

All told I thought it was a good day.  I managed not to get yelled at individually, thought I was doing pretty well on my drilling, and got a good idea of what more I need to do to get myself better prepared physically.  As bad as it may have seemed to some, I have a feeling our RTOs went easy on us with the uniform inspections that first day.  Too much to cover to nit-pick too much, but tonight might be a little different.  I think the experience overall is going to be fun and I’m looking forward to learning everything.

 I’m going to do my best to post at least once a week, but we’ll see.  I know I’ll have some good stories, so check back often.

 Here’s a video our instructor showed us.

 

Academy Bound

Ok, its official.  I turned in my paperwork and paid my $507 for Module III of the Modular Basic Police Academy and was given my Procedure Manual.  Apparently, this is actually going to happen.  I still don’t think its quite sunk in yet.  Once I’m back from vacation–we’re in Colorado visiting my wife’s sister and family for Thanksgiving–I’ll be going down to start ordering my uniforms, then it will probably start to seem more real.

So here’s how this thing work:

Since I’m going to have to continue working while going through the Academy, I’m not able to do the Intensive version.  When an agency puts you through, that’s what you do.  It’s about a 20 week program and classes are every weekday, 8 AM to 5 PM.  You can go this route when you’re self-sponsoring like I am, but, not surprisingly the bill collectors would still like to get paid so I’ll have to continue working my normal day job and do what’s called the Modular Basic Academy.  This means I’ll be spending my Tuesday and Thursday nights from  6 to 10 and Saturdays 8 to 5 in class for the next 11 months.  There’s pro and cons to this of course.  The cons being a lot of time away from the family and the added stress of having a full-time job, 16 hours a week in class, studying, a wife, and a two-year old all at the same time.  On the other hand, the way the Modular is broken down there’s a kind of safety net in case things don’t go exactly as planned.  The course is divided into three modules and once you pass one, you don’t have to repeat it even if you fail the next one.  In all types of police academies, at least in California, if you fail any test you’re allowed one more chance to pass it.  If you fail that one, you’re done.  Bye bye, see you later, don’t let the door hit ya, where the good lord split ya.  But in a modular format, once you pass Modules III and II (they count down, III, II, I) even if you fail Module I you don’t have to start all over.  You can just start Module I over the next time it’s offered (or after a year maybe).  That’s a lot better than having to start from square one in the intensive if you, say, bombed the last test.  Which I’m told does happen.  Hopefully, all that will be moot and I won’t need to be starting anything over.  The other advantage is of course that it the scheduling makes it possible for me to actually go.

I’m going to do my best to chronicle my journey through the Academy, but obviously I’m not going to have a lot of spare time on my hands.  But I do plan on trying very hard to keep the goings on fairly up to date, here on Police Quest.  Not only because friends and family have asked me too, but when I pass with flying colors (fingers crossed) it would be nice to have some sort of record to look back on to remember exactly what I was thinking at the time.  So that’s the plan.  D-Day is January 9th, 2010.  Mark your calendars and check back often.

The Next Step

And the beat goes on.

After getting my POST scores back several weeks ago (which were quite good, by the way), I sent them along with the other required information to the last two agencies I had applied to.  Shortly thereafter I received the letter/email I’d been dreading, “Thank you for your participation, good luck with your law enforcement career, just not with us.”  And so once more I was prospectless.

During the time I was applying and testing for all these departmental jobs, only to be repeatedly let down, the prospect of self-sponsoring myself through the police academy began looking more and more attractive.  When it first occurred to me I shrugged it off as too impractical.  Since I would need to continue working I wouldn’t be able to do the standard 20 week program, but the alternative didn’t really seem like a good idea at the time.  My local academy runs a modular program that stretches over 11 months.  Classes are held on Tuesday and Thursday nights from 6 PM to 10 PM and Saturdays 8 AM to 5 PM.  That’s a lot of time away from home, the weeknights being especially tricky what with the baby and all.  But after all the rejections, it began to look not only more possible, but preferred.  As hard as it would be to carry a full time job, while spending 16 hours a week in school (not including homework), and maintaining some semblance of a family life, wouldn’t that still be easier than packing up and moving to a new town, which would require renting our current house, likely apartment living for an indefinite length of time, all while in the midst of strangers?  So we decided to seriously consider it.

I talked to several of my officer friends, some who went through that same academy–though the 20-week variety–to get their input.  Am I insane to even try this, I’d ask.  Am I going to want to kill myself after the first month?  No one told me it would be easy, but they didn’t think I was totally nuts.  So that was encouraging.  Or as encouraging as it could be.  I continued doing research and just last Thursday, my birthday, attended orientation.  Let me tell you, no two words go together better than orientation and birthday, no siree.  Actually, it went very well.  By the time I left I was pumped up and ready to start.  The director was enthusiastic and seemed ready to help us do what we needed to do to be successful.  There were about 30 of us in attendance, mostly guys between 23 and 35, a few older and a couple women.  There was one older guy who wore a bolo tie, looked like Steve Buscemi and had the voice of Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs.  Not who I’d want to see walking up to my car window on a lonely rural road.  Besides his upsetting look and sound, when one of the presentation slides entitled “Possible Disqualifiers” displayed “Not registering for the Selective Service” as one of its bullet points, he said he’d never registered (he had to be almost 50) and would it be advantageous to do so now.  Unfortunately that wasn’t his dumbest question.  My possible competition?  Booyah.

Classes start in January.  I had already begun to prepare mentally and physically for the year ahead, but now I’ll be kicking it into overdrive.  I’m excited and terrified.  While even if I pass with flying colors, there is still no guarantee of a job once I finish.  But at this point I feel like I’ve exhausted all the other options and this is my best shot.  I feel good about it.  We’ll see if that still holds true in a month or four.

Test Day

Saturday began early. The clock said 4:40 AM, which is why the clock and I are no longer on speaking terms. I gathered the things I would need—snacks, water, lunch, a change of clothes—and was on the road by 5:15, wheeling myself two hours away to the police academy that would be administering the day’s POST written exam and Work Sample Test Battery (WSTB) agility test and 1.5 mile run. All the way down I was treated to a pretty spectacular phenomenon known as dry lightning, lighting sans rain basically, which I had a hard time deciding whether to take as a good or bad omen of what was to come. That is, if I believed in omens.

My one major concern was the 1.5 mile run. I’ve done well on every written exam I’ve taken so far and the description of the WSTB didn’t sound like anything I wouldn’t be able to handle, but the run was another matter. During the summer my wife and I had gotten into a pretty good routine of running a couple days a week, though I never ran for more than a mile in one stretch. Distance has never been my forte, and to my mind anything longer than a basketball court is distance. However, once the school year started, my wife being a teacher and all, the regular runs dropped off. I did what I could to maintain some semblance of fitness—basketball and stationary bike riding mostly, along with some push-ups—but the run still had me nervous. I had every intention of getting a few practice runs in, but life reared its head and prevented me from doing so until the night before. Even then I didn’t have the benefit of a proper track, since it was dark by the time our dinner with friends was over. So I mapped out a route on Google maps that equaled the distance. I should probably mention that this was a pass/fail event, the maximum time allowed being 14 minutes. On completion of my practice run I was unnerved to find that my time was 14 minutes and 39 seconds. I thought I had been running at a pretty decent pace. My summer mile time was about 7.5 minutes and while it’s natural to lose some seconds after not running diligently for a few weeks, it’s not like I’d been sitting in my Lay-Z-Boy, eating Ho-hos while watching Divorce Court reruns for the past month. I don’t even have a Lay-Z-Boy. But there it was. I could only hope Google maps was not an accurate gauge of mileage.

The Run was the first thing we did. There were about 150 participants and the coordinators had us run in groups of 30. I was in the first group. At the start it seemed we were all running way too fast. I knew I could never keep up that pace, so early on I tried to place myself in the middle of the pack. I gained confidence when I passed a few folks, though most of them looked like the type I should be passing. A little soft in the middle. About a third of the way into the run I encountered something I was not expecting: a hill! It wasn’t a steep hill but after my botched practice run the night before on flat ground any potential hindrance scared the living pooh out of me. Even gentle inclines. There were proctors along the way to give us direction (we were running around the campus, not on a track) and time updates, though I either couldn’t ever hear what they were saying or they didn’t say anything as I ran past so I had no idea how I was doing as I came down the home stretch. On the last straight away I pushed it…and wanted to die. My back was aching, my bruised heel was barking, the cool morning air was burning my esophagus, and I’m pretty sure a bug had flown into my mouth. But I went as hard as my tired legs would let me. When I heard, “11:42” as I crossed the finish line, I was so relieved I almost forgot that I wanted to throw up. Almost. I walked over to a bush just in case, but fortunately my banana and granola bar breakfast remained in place. A mile and a half is not a lot, I admit, but it was a stretch for me and I’m glad its over with…for now.

By comparison, the rest of the WSTB was pretty easy. It consisted of a simple obstacle course, scaling a six foot solid wall and six foot chain link fence, dragging a 165 lb. dummy, holding a 165 lb. heavy bag for 30 seconds, and a 500 yard run, which I’m sure was a good deal less than 500 yards as I ran it in record (for me) time. I finished in at least the top 1/3 in all the events and the only difficult part about it was that since there were so many people to run through your muscles would get cold and start to tighten up before the next event. I felt a pulled hamstring looming on the horizon, but fortunately that’s where it stayed. All in all it was a pretty fun morning. Everyone cheered each other on and there was a real team atmosphere even though most of us had never met before and might not see each other again. Both the other test takers and the instructors really wanted everyone to do well.

Whenever I take one of these police tests, written or physical, I always like to scope out the competition. Usually most of the others are pretty fit looking guys between 25 and 35. There’s always a few that look way too young or way too old. There was a fair amount of women also. There was a guy that was a dead ringer for Stanley Tucci who oozed confidence. There was a guy that looked just like Super Mario. He was about five foot four, with a healthy boiler and a police issue mustache. He had to be at least 50, much older than most everyone else. But dog gone it if he didn’t give it his all. Watching him trying to get over that six foot wall his face looked like it was going to burst into flames he was straining so hard. He made it over, and then tried again and got a much better time. I talked with him a little bit and though he said that long run almost killed him—I don’t think he finished any where near 14 minutes—he wasn’t going to quit. He was actually pretty inspirational.

After the WSTB we broke for lunch and those that were taking the written exam were to report back at 1:00. We were herded into one of three class rooms, each filled to capacity of about 50. After an early morning two hour drive and a long morning of physical exertion in warm weather, sitting in a stuffy classroom with no air conditioning and 49 other people does not make for ideal testing conditions. On top of that, they had put cardboard cubbies on the tables to discourage cheating, so now I felt like I was inside an even smaller and stuffier room as my own hot breath was redirected into my face off the cardboard. I honestly thought I was going to pass out on at least three occasions. Through this police hiring process I’ve come to see everything as a test, besides the actual tests. Chances are at some point I will be required to write up a report sitting in a cramped, stuffy police car after having just chased down a knucklehead on foot in 90 degree heat. So, in a way, I suppose sitting in a stuffy classroom with no air conditioning and 49 other people is actually the perfect testing environment.

Despite my light headedness, I breezed through the exam pretty quickly. I was actually surprised at how short it was and that I didn’t have more difficulty. I’ve taken several written exams along the way, but this was my first experience with the California POST written exam. I guess I was just expecting something different. Its all reading and writing stuff. No scenarios or anything one might initially think of as “police like.” I finished an hour before the deadline, went over my answers, and then handed it in. It had been a long, but I think productive, day. I should be getting my scores in a week or so. Hopefully they will match my confidence in how I did.

Anchor Chains, Plane Motors, and Train Whistles

Let me set the scene (or you can just watch the whole clip):  George Bailey is at the train station to pick up his younger brother Harry who is returning from college.  He’s excited to see his brother, but even more excited to have Harry take his place at the Bailey Building and Loan so George can finally shake the dust of crummy Bedford Falls off his shoes and see the world, the thing his longed for since he was a kid.  But to his consternation, he discovers that Harry has returned with a wife, and worse yet, his new father-in-law has offered him a job.  George does what he always does and puts on a brave face for Harry’s welcome back party.  But as the party winds down and he sends drunken Uncle Billy home, we see how he truly feels.  He walks outside for a smoke, and hears something in the distance that tears at his soul (3:03 in the following clip).

I can understand that look on George’s face when he hears that far off train whistle.  A mixture of joy and sadness.  I know it because that’s how I’ve been feeling every time I hear a far off siren.  I think, “That could be me at the wheel of that cruiser.”  Instead, most days I’m stuck at a desk or a push cart at a job which my feeling for could not be described as hate, but edges a little bit further in that direction every week.

In times like these, in THIS ECONOMY (one of my least favorite phrases), I’m very grateful for the job I have.  A lot of people are a lot worse off.  But when you’re reaching for a goal and it never really seems to get any closer, I don’t care how blessed you are, it can be frustrating.  I’m doing my best to be patient.  I have good days and bad.  I’m devout in my faith and know that God’s plan is not my plan.  It’s perfect.  It’s hard for me to see sometimes–ok, most of the time–but I know its there and it takes me being diligent in reminding myself of this.

Listening to those distant sirens probably isn’t going to get any easier any time soon, but instead of wondering “why not now”, I’m going to do my best to think “it’ll be great when…”