I joined the job because people preying on others really pisses me off. Thieving, violence, and generally taking the piss out of law-abiding citizens makes my blood boil. I'm quite happy to do everything in my power to make things as difficult as possible for those who don't play by the rules. I derive a huge amount of job satisfaction from putting drug dealers behind bars, even if it's for minor offences not related to their dealing. What small amount of pity I feel for the handcuffed 14 year old shoplifter bawling her eyes out as I escort her to my waiting patrol car evaporates as I look through her PNC record at all her other offences.
Many of my colleagues have a little chuckle when they read of a minor assault on a traffic warden. Whilst I can understand the sentiment (who actually likes them?), I couldn't really condone violence against them. Clampers however...
I have this job at the moment. A rather simple clamping firm employee decided to steal a very large amount of money in a totally traceable, incredibly obvious manner. He's clearly the bluntest tool in the box, given the thousands he tried to nick electronically using the company credit card machine and his own account. So a rather large paper trail lands on my desk, bundled up in a case file.
Naturally there is a victim here, so I should be willing to bring the full force of the law down on the miscreant in question. I am, but at the same time I have to confess to a fair degree of enjoyment in the knowledge that I'm about to stick it to a wheel clamper. What's more, I'm really hoping the proceeds of the crime have now been frittered away and that the clamping company will go under as a result. Why? because I hate clampers, they're barely legal thieves, and I think we should follow Scotland's example and outlaw private clamping operations as extortion. Even with SIA registration they are to a man a bunch of nasty thugs. F*** 'em all I say!
Friday, September 29, 2006
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Sympathy for the Devil
A funny thing happened the other day. I was sitting in a patrol car at some traffic lights with my tutor, and a car pulled alongside. My tutor gave the driver a sideways glance, and then did a double-take. The driver was nicked for driving whilst disqualified and no insurance a year back, and then a year before that for the same offence - each time by my tutor.
'Excellent!' I think as the blues go on and the suspect pulls over. I get really annoyed by people driving without licence/insurance/MOT/RFL or whilst drunk/high/disqualified. He got a few months last time, he's a persistent offender, how dare he take the piss on my doorstep. 'This should be a good result!'.
So we get him out, have a word, and he pulls a provisional licence out. No 'L' plates on the vehicle, his missus in the passenger seat. The DVLA say disqual. until test passed. The missus says she has an international drivers permit and a UK provisional. She says she's lived here for years. I nick him. He's upset, protests he can drive, claims he's insured, his other half can supervise, his kids are in the back - I just want to get him back to the nick.
I book him in, in interview he's convinced he is able to drive legitimately. He's got his test booked next week, already done his theory. All the documents are in order, he can produce them at his home. We bail him to seek advice and see the docs. At his place all is in order, it seems. He and his wife are very pleasant, it really does appear that he's trying to do the right thing now. His wife is heavily pregnant, and as we leave I feel a lot of sympathy for them both, as does my tutor.
There's still a couple of sticking points though. First, he had no 'L' plates, second, his wife is driving on an old foreign licence - you're only allowed to use those for one year from when you settle in the UK - and third, how the hell did these people get insurance with his record and neither of them having a full UK licence?
We speak to a traffic sergeant, and rather unusually his eyes light up. The missus as a supervisor is a red herring - no L plates means he's guilty of the offence. We're chuffed. Well, actually, we're not. Over refs we discuss the benefits of sending this guy down (as will undoubtedly happen if convicted). We agree to sleep on it - neither of our consciences are settled. Surely it's a bit harsh to get this guy sent down for forgetting to put 'L' plates on? A simple oversight, surely. After all, he only got his provisional a few weeks ago, and it's the first UK licence he's held.
On the next shift, we call his insurance company. And my sympathy evaporates. They've not got a scooby about his convictions, or the fact neither of them have full licences. They cancel the policy on the spot. We run the circs by our sarge and get the nod to charge. The lying git is back in to answer bail next week. I can't wait...
'Excellent!' I think as the blues go on and the suspect pulls over. I get really annoyed by people driving without licence/insurance/MOT/RFL or whilst drunk/high/disqualified. He got a few months last time, he's a persistent offender, how dare he take the piss on my doorstep. 'This should be a good result!'.
So we get him out, have a word, and he pulls a provisional licence out. No 'L' plates on the vehicle, his missus in the passenger seat. The DVLA say disqual. until test passed. The missus says she has an international drivers permit and a UK provisional. She says she's lived here for years. I nick him. He's upset, protests he can drive, claims he's insured, his other half can supervise, his kids are in the back - I just want to get him back to the nick.
I book him in, in interview he's convinced he is able to drive legitimately. He's got his test booked next week, already done his theory. All the documents are in order, he can produce them at his home. We bail him to seek advice and see the docs. At his place all is in order, it seems. He and his wife are very pleasant, it really does appear that he's trying to do the right thing now. His wife is heavily pregnant, and as we leave I feel a lot of sympathy for them both, as does my tutor.
There's still a couple of sticking points though. First, he had no 'L' plates, second, his wife is driving on an old foreign licence - you're only allowed to use those for one year from when you settle in the UK - and third, how the hell did these people get insurance with his record and neither of them having a full UK licence?
We speak to a traffic sergeant, and rather unusually his eyes light up. The missus as a supervisor is a red herring - no L plates means he's guilty of the offence. We're chuffed. Well, actually, we're not. Over refs we discuss the benefits of sending this guy down (as will undoubtedly happen if convicted). We agree to sleep on it - neither of our consciences are settled. Surely it's a bit harsh to get this guy sent down for forgetting to put 'L' plates on? A simple oversight, surely. After all, he only got his provisional a few weeks ago, and it's the first UK licence he's held.
On the next shift, we call his insurance company. And my sympathy evaporates. They've not got a scooby about his convictions, or the fact neither of them have full licences. They cancel the policy on the spot. We run the circs by our sarge and get the nod to charge. The lying git is back in to answer bail next week. I can't wait...
Sunday, September 17, 2006
This pay rise thing
I've not been in the job that long, so I've not as much right as those with more service to have a bitch about the matter, but FFS what do the government think they're playing at?
Way back in 1919 the police were treated so badly, paid so poorly and so fed up that they went on strike. Needless to say, this was not good. In order to avoid this ever happening again, the government of the time reached an agreement with the police that in return for better conditions, the police would never strike again, would not be able to join any union, but would instead have a Police Federation to represent their interests.
This arrangement normally works well, most police officers I've spoken to hold the PolFed in high regard, and it is staffed mainly by serving officers. The Fed look after our needs and welfare on all levels.
With regards to wages the normal state of play is that the Police Federation negotiate with the government on behalf of constables up to the rank of chief inspector for annual pay increases. It's generally the case that the this is index-linked, i.e. rises in line with inflation. It is decided on each June/July and implemented in September. This has worked for the last 27 years.
This year the 'Official' side (as the government side of negotiations is known) has decided to offer much less, with their latest offer being 2.2% - well below inflation. Why? Who knows. Suspicions abound that it may be revenge for our total lack of support for this government's force merger plans. Perhaps they care that little for us, and know there is not a great deal we can do about it. No matter, it would appear that this government is taking the piss out of us.
What happens now? Well, the government continue to irritate the rank and file (though I'd imagine most officers were irritated by the government already, prior to the pay dispute), arbitration, discussions, negotiation etc. takes place somewhere in Whitehall, and then probably a few months down the line we get the rise we are entitled to (backdated to this month).
Why do the government cause all this grief? They know what the reaction will be, they know they are merely eroding the support of hundreds of thousands of voters and for what? Probably the cost of one of the lesser QUANGOS, hundereds of which have been introduced since this government came to power.
This link puts the point across from officers with far more service than I have.
Way back in 1919 the police were treated so badly, paid so poorly and so fed up that they went on strike. Needless to say, this was not good. In order to avoid this ever happening again, the government of the time reached an agreement with the police that in return for better conditions, the police would never strike again, would not be able to join any union, but would instead have a Police Federation to represent their interests.
This arrangement normally works well, most police officers I've spoken to hold the PolFed in high regard, and it is staffed mainly by serving officers. The Fed look after our needs and welfare on all levels.
With regards to wages the normal state of play is that the Police Federation negotiate with the government on behalf of constables up to the rank of chief inspector for annual pay increases. It's generally the case that the this is index-linked, i.e. rises in line with inflation. It is decided on each June/July and implemented in September. This has worked for the last 27 years.
This year the 'Official' side (as the government side of negotiations is known) has decided to offer much less, with their latest offer being 2.2% - well below inflation. Why? Who knows. Suspicions abound that it may be revenge for our total lack of support for this government's force merger plans. Perhaps they care that little for us, and know there is not a great deal we can do about it. No matter, it would appear that this government is taking the piss out of us.
What happens now? Well, the government continue to irritate the rank and file (though I'd imagine most officers were irritated by the government already, prior to the pay dispute), arbitration, discussions, negotiation etc. takes place somewhere in Whitehall, and then probably a few months down the line we get the rise we are entitled to (backdated to this month).
Why do the government cause all this grief? They know what the reaction will be, they know they are merely eroding the support of hundreds of thousands of voters and for what? Probably the cost of one of the lesser QUANGOS, hundereds of which have been introduced since this government came to power.
This link puts the point across from officers with far more service than I have.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Scary applicants
Whilst at this recruitment event, I spoke to all manner of interesting people. Within the ten to twenty minutes I spent talking to each, I was able to get a grasp of who they were, and whether they seemed 'the right stuff'. So to speak.
We'd been briefed to give honest accounts of the Job, and if anything, to highlight the downsides. This is common sense, and what I'd been planning to do anyway. Under the old system, it was a regular occurance for new recruits to pitch up to HQ on the first day, get a frank talking-to from the inspector about the realities of the job and then it dawned on them that they'd have to work nights, shifts, have mean people try and hurt them etc. One account has a recruit leaving ten minutes into the job, immediately after the inspector's reality check.
Some of the applicants I spoke to were really clued up. They'd already sought out serving officers, had most of their questions answered, and were only there because attendance was compulsory in order to get the application pack. These people seemed solid, dependable types that I'd gladly have watching my back come closing time on the High Street.
Some of the applicants would have been entertaining, had they not been so serious. As it was I felt pity, and perhaps a little fear. I'm confident that the paper sift will weed out the teenager who was looking for action, preferably with the firearms unit as he'd 'thought hard about joining the military, but then decided against it as I don't want to get blown up or shot'. He seemed overly concerned about the consequences of a firearms officer shooting someone in error. He thought that routine arming of all officers was a good idea (despite the fact that the vast majority of actual police officers think it's a bad idea), and he left me with the impression that were one to actually issue a firearm to this individual (against all reasoning) he'd probably slot the first member of public to look at him funny.
One charming young lady with more facial piercings than I could count was passionate about cars, and fair play to her. I was right with her up until the point she confessed to being a 'right little girl racer' who 'loves driving really fast' and therefore thought a role in the traffic unit would be perfect. I didn't have the heart to tell her that joining the job would mean waving goodbye to the various spikes and loops poking out of her face, and that since I joined I feel I have to drive like Miss Daisy is my back seat passenger. Perhaps if she loses the metalwork for the interview and keeps schtum about her need for speed, I might just be seeing her around the nick in a year's time.
There were quite a few applicants who had just completed A levels or a degree. They mostly came across quite well, asked pertinent questions and seemed on the ball, however, I can't help feeling they on the whole lacked the life experience that seems to be a key part of being able to cope with the job. I wouldn't dream of generalising of course, and some of my colleagues are of a similar age and very capable. I know there's no way I'd have coped if I'd signed up in my teens or early twenties.
Next time I'm in the vicinity of the HR offices, I think I'll pop in and ask what percentage of applicants get through the papersift. I'd hazard a guess that the figure doesn't reach double digits.
We'd been briefed to give honest accounts of the Job, and if anything, to highlight the downsides. This is common sense, and what I'd been planning to do anyway. Under the old system, it was a regular occurance for new recruits to pitch up to HQ on the first day, get a frank talking-to from the inspector about the realities of the job and then it dawned on them that they'd have to work nights, shifts, have mean people try and hurt them etc. One account has a recruit leaving ten minutes into the job, immediately after the inspector's reality check.
Some of the applicants I spoke to were really clued up. They'd already sought out serving officers, had most of their questions answered, and were only there because attendance was compulsory in order to get the application pack. These people seemed solid, dependable types that I'd gladly have watching my back come closing time on the High Street.
Some of the applicants would have been entertaining, had they not been so serious. As it was I felt pity, and perhaps a little fear. I'm confident that the paper sift will weed out the teenager who was looking for action, preferably with the firearms unit as he'd 'thought hard about joining the military, but then decided against it as I don't want to get blown up or shot'. He seemed overly concerned about the consequences of a firearms officer shooting someone in error. He thought that routine arming of all officers was a good idea (despite the fact that the vast majority of actual police officers think it's a bad idea), and he left me with the impression that were one to actually issue a firearm to this individual (against all reasoning) he'd probably slot the first member of public to look at him funny.
One charming young lady with more facial piercings than I could count was passionate about cars, and fair play to her. I was right with her up until the point she confessed to being a 'right little girl racer' who 'loves driving really fast' and therefore thought a role in the traffic unit would be perfect. I didn't have the heart to tell her that joining the job would mean waving goodbye to the various spikes and loops poking out of her face, and that since I joined I feel I have to drive like Miss Daisy is my back seat passenger. Perhaps if she loses the metalwork for the interview and keeps schtum about her need for speed, I might just be seeing her around the nick in a year's time.
There were quite a few applicants who had just completed A levels or a degree. They mostly came across quite well, asked pertinent questions and seemed on the ball, however, I can't help feeling they on the whole lacked the life experience that seems to be a key part of being able to cope with the job. I wouldn't dream of generalising of course, and some of my colleagues are of a similar age and very capable. I know there's no way I'd have coped if I'd signed up in my teens or early twenties.
Next time I'm in the vicinity of the HR offices, I think I'll pop in and ask what percentage of applicants get through the papersift. I'd hazard a guess that the figure doesn't reach double digits.
Oh S***...
I think I've just put a dent in my career prospects.
So there I was at a recruitment evening for my force, answering eager applicants' questions as they clamoured around me, desparately keen to hear what this new recruit thought of The Job. I was enthusiastic, honest, entertaining (I hope) and above all setting the right impression with candidates and their families. I turned round to get another glass of water and was pounced upon by a very, VERY senior officer. My enthusiasm by now had been polished to a mirror-finished PR's dream. I gushed over the quality of the course, my tutors and fellow students. Then I stepped on a metaphorical landmine:
very, VERY senior officer "Well, that's very nice, but tell me, what problems have you experienced?"
A rather foolish me "We're in this difficult position where there are not enough tutors or vehicles to go round. We're having to double up, which is very frustrating as one of the students invariably has to take a back seat. It's a great hinderance and my unit really needs more tutors and resources to function properly..."
With that I got an icy stare for a few moments, and Mr very, VERY senior officer glances down at my name badge. I smile inanely. The icy stare melts into a puddle of distain.
very, VERY senior officer "You must understand that to give your unit more tutors would mean taking experienced officers off the front line, and that's not what the public wants..."
He thanked me for my time and wondered off, I got on with approachiing the next eager candidate.
The thing is, my tutors, sergeants and inspector are all unhappy with the staffing levels of my unit. They comment on this fact on an almost daily basis. I was merely voicing an honestly-held opinion that is reflected by my managers.
I'm half-expecting a 'chat' from my inspector on Monday.
I think I'll keep my mouth shut next time.
So there I was at a recruitment evening for my force, answering eager applicants' questions as they clamoured around me, desparately keen to hear what this new recruit thought of The Job. I was enthusiastic, honest, entertaining (I hope) and above all setting the right impression with candidates and their families. I turned round to get another glass of water and was pounced upon by a very, VERY senior officer. My enthusiasm by now had been polished to a mirror-finished PR's dream. I gushed over the quality of the course, my tutors and fellow students. Then I stepped on a metaphorical landmine:
very, VERY senior officer "Well, that's very nice, but tell me, what problems have you experienced?"
A rather foolish me "We're in this difficult position where there are not enough tutors or vehicles to go round. We're having to double up, which is very frustrating as one of the students invariably has to take a back seat. It's a great hinderance and my unit really needs more tutors and resources to function properly..."
With that I got an icy stare for a few moments, and Mr very, VERY senior officer glances down at my name badge. I smile inanely. The icy stare melts into a puddle of distain.
very, VERY senior officer "You must understand that to give your unit more tutors would mean taking experienced officers off the front line, and that's not what the public wants..."
He thanked me for my time and wondered off, I got on with approachiing the next eager candidate.
The thing is, my tutors, sergeants and inspector are all unhappy with the staffing levels of my unit. They comment on this fact on an almost daily basis. I was merely voicing an honestly-held opinion that is reflected by my managers.
I'm half-expecting a 'chat' from my inspector on Monday.
I think I'll keep my mouth shut next time.
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