Now I’ve gone through the big three: OC Spray, Taser and Red Man. It’s pretty much smooth sailing until the end – unless they spring another surprise test on us. Oh, and Clinton is doing the Simunition, which means that we’re likely to get shot in the upper thigh with an 8.5mm plastic round. More on that next week.
For the rest of the week we have the pleasure of crime prevention and asset forfeiture, plus we all must get NIMS – that’s National Incident Management System to you – certified.
In on Thursday morning walks, I shit you not, Ned Flanders. I know that I’ve referred to another instructor as Flanders – in fact that guy’s one of my favorites. I only called Instructor Flanders that because his real name is Duff. Get it? Duff beer? Simpsons? Pick another name from The Simpsons, so I got Flanders? I hereby change Duff’s name to Duff, because this guy must literally be the real-life model for the Ned Flanders character on that show.
He’s a quibbling little fussbudget whom no one can believe is a cop, let alone a veteran 13-year officer. You’d think he’d have been fragged or at least fired by now – in fact, if I hit the thesaurus under “Dotard” I get a panoply of words to describe him, each almost perfect: “Fuddy-duddy, fusspot, fusspot, old poop, square, stick-in-the-mud…” – but the agency he works with found a much better place for him.
To be good at “Crime prevention,” or, generally, to be a crime prevention officer, you need to be a nice, mild and pleasant-looking straight-arrow officer who attends rubber chicken dinners, Rotary lunches and church breakfasts, and speaks with people in the community about ways to, you guessed it, prevent crime. This is not the guy you want to put on patrol. Nor would you want to take a patrol officer and put him necessarily in crime prevention.
Don’t get me wrong, I think that the job is a very important one, and I truly believe that the best way to provide policing is the community based approach, and since I’ve raised that, I should probably explain it – tomorrow. But I’ll complete the thought: I’m not mocking the position, I’m mocking the man.
Why am I being so harsh? Because in his Flandersian approach, he made an assumption that we were all as square and stupid as he, then acted upon it. Early in the day, we had this little lesson:
“Take computer security,” he said, “Ah bet ah kin tell ya somethin’ about ya.” He smiled, smugly, and paused grandiosely. “I think that each of you has a password that you use for yer computer,” he continued in a measured pace to heighten our drama as he gazed round the room, “that is the same as the password you use for yer online accounts, like AOL.”
With that, he stopped, widened his eyes in mock horror, and made an “OH!” mouth. Then, as he assumed we as a class were, as a group, gob-smacked by his piercing revelation, his completely unexpected connection of words – his somehow … miraculous divination of this deeply personal and secret information, he impersonated us, awestruck, and said aloud, “How did he know that?! How does he know that?!”
The next six hours were him talking about security inspections, how he looks at architectural renderings of buildings to provide security advice to the people of his community at the planning stage. Again, all important work, but boy was this hard to sit through.
Six more days of classes.