OUR BADGE

MY CURRENT POLICE CRUISER
 

The Warrant Division Crew

Even though some have gone on to bigger and brighter employment, retirement, or promoted, the majority in this photo are still with us.

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ME THE LOUSY COP!
 

-Well, Mr. Citizen, I guess you've got me all figured out. I seem to fit neatly into the category you placed me in. I'm stereotyped, standardized, classified, grouped and always typical ... I'm the "Lousy Cop."

Unfortunately, the reverse isn't true because I can never figure you out. From birth, you teach your children that I'm the bogeyman who will take them to jail if they are bad, rather than someone to go to when they need help, and then you are shocked when they identify me with the traditional enemy, the criminal.

You accuse me of coddling juveniles, until I catch your kid doing something wrong. Then, I must surely be mistaken because you know that your child would never do anything like that. Yeah, right, I have nothing I'd rather do than make up a story about your child and then have to hassle with hours of paperwork so a judge can let him go before I am through.

You make take an hour for lunch and several coffee breaks each day, but point me out as a loafer if you see me having just one cup.

You pride yourself on your polished manners, but think nothing of interrupting my meal with your troubles.

You raise hell about the guy that cut you off in traffic, but let me catch you doing the same thing, and I am picking on you and should be out there catching the "real criminals". You were only keeping up with traffic when I caught you doing 40 mph in that school zone. You know all the traffic laws, but you never got a single ticket you deserved.

You cry "fool" if you see me driving fast enroute to an emergency call, but literally raise hell if I take more than 10 seconds responding to yours.

You call it part of my job if someone strikes me, but it's police brutality if I strike back.

You wouldn't think of telling a dentist how to pull a badly decayed tooth, or your doctor how to remove your appendix, but you are always willing to give me a few pointers on law enforcement, in which you have absolutely no training.

You talk to me in a manner and use language that is offensive, then expect me to stand there and take it without batting an eye.

You cry that something has to be done about all the crimes, but you  can't be bothered with getting involved. So when you call the police, you refuse to give your name, address or phone number so I can gather information necessary to do anything about the problem you called about. Then you complain because I didn't do anything.

You've got no use for me at all, but of course, it's okay if I stop and change a tire for your wife or deliver your child in the backseat of my patrol car on the way to the hospital. Or it's okay if I save your son's life with mouth to mouth resuscitation, or maybe work many hours overtime to find your lost daughter while my wife and kids wait for me or miss the concert we had tickets for.

So, Mr. Citizen, you stand there on your soapbox and rant and rave about the way I do my job calling me every name in the book, but never stop for a minute to think that your property, your family, or maybe your life might depend on one person...me or one of my buddies. Yes Mr. Citizen, me, the lousy cop.

~The author of this poem is unknown~