If you’re like most of us, you made your bones in this business by catching people doing something wrong. You developed a “fault-finding mindset,” and it served you well — as an officer. Then you made sergeant, and you learned viewing your troops through those fault-finding criminal-catching eyes isn’t a very effective supervisory technique. In fact, you had to re orient yourself to catching your people doing something right — and then making sure they got recognized for it. And, you learned to defend them from undue and unjustified criticism.
Saddled or blessed with the responsibility to both discipline and commend their troops, supervisors wind up walking a weird tightrope of conflicting emotions. You don’t want to criticize your troops unless it’s over something concrete and quantifiable, directly related to performance or productivity. But dangerously — very dangerously — you tend to overlook little nuances of behavior and mannerisms that piss you off about otherwise satisfactory officers. If left untreated, this malignant condition can poison a sergeant’s attitude toward one or more cops on his squad. The subject himself picks up on this, and knows the boss ain’t completely happy with him, but he doesn’t know why or how to fix it. The well is poisoned, and everybody suffers. It doesn’t have to be that way.
You need to tell your troops what pisses you off and give them a chance to correct the condition. Here’s a typical Top Ten:
GIVING THE BARE MINIMUM
Sliding into squad conference at the last possible second; on time but just barely, still buttoning his shirt, grinnin’ like a fool, tapping his watch and smirking to his buddies. The same guy will often blast out the back door of the station the second the shift is over, because he’s “Not giving the department a second more than they pay me for!” Listen, I want you to come in and go home on time, but this juvenile attitude pisses me off! It’s not about the department’s requirements, it’s about professional conduct.
IF THEY WANTED ME TO HAVE IT…
There are officers who never seek out available training, and never go to “outside training” on their own ticket. Their attitude is, “If the department wanted me to have it, they’d send me.” The same guys steadfastly refuse to buy improved and upgraded gear like weapons, lights, holsters and extra cuffs, because “If they don’t issue it to me, I ain’t buyin’ it.” To me this is the indelible mark of a poseur, an amateur — not a real cop. Want to be treated like a professional? Act like one. Invest in yourself.
PLAYING POCKET POOL
Whether dealing with scumbag suspects, chatting with the corner grocer or kickin’ it with the kids outside the youth center, standing around with your hands jammed in your pockets is not just an open invitation to get yourself clocked and dropped; it delivers the clear message that you ain’t ready for nothin’, as opposed to “centered, balanced and ready for anything.” It’s unsafe, unprofessional and it pisses me off!
SYMPHONY IN G-FLAT DOOFUS
Cops should not sound like ceremonial Hopi dancers, complete with wrist-rattles and ankle-bells. For Pete’s sake, silence that 53-piece key & whistle collection and toss the tinkling loose change in your gear-bag, okay? You sound like an ancient shopping cart full of silverware rolling on gravel. The tune I hear is “Send in the Clowns.”
HERE I AM — KILL ME NOW
If you don’t need the light, keep your flashlight off! Don’t stand in your headlights, or under bright overheads! You know what really scares crooks? A cop who’s comfortable in the dark.
WELL ON SICK LEAVE – SICK ON DUTY
Plan your needs and ask me for time off with advance notice — I’ll try to accommodate. Do not insult me or jeopardize others by last-minute abuse of sick leave. And do not come to work contagious or so far under the weather that you’re a hazard. I’m not your mommy — don’t make me send you home.
IT’S JUST BAY RUM AFTERSHAVE, BOSS
I drink, you drink, lots of cops drink, but the minimum rule is, “Eight Hours, Bottle to Throttle,” and if I catch the faintest whiff of booze, I’ll hammer you like a cheap nail.
LIFE IN A BLACK-AND-WHITE BUBBLE
Cruising through business and commercial areas with your eyes locked forward and windows rolled up — especially when I’m ground-fighting one of your felons on the sidewalk and you roll right past — flat pisses me off! Slow down, look and listen!
A DEER IN THE HEADLIGHTS
In the station or out on the streets, when you turn a corner, go through a door or an elevator opens, be ready to face psychos, grizzlies, escaping prisoners, werewolves — or me. Warriors don’t freeze, gawk or stumble backwards and fall on their asses. Be prepared, Boy Scout.
NO THANKS, I’LL JUST EAT MY GUTS
Finally, if you’ve got a beef with the department — or with me — you owe it to me to talk to me about it. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broke. Hey, I tell you what pisses me off, don’t I? It works both ways. Be diplomatic, but direct, and never let an officer have a reason to ask, “If something I do bothers the boss, why doesn’t he have the balls to just tell me?” Try this, and smile when you say it: “I’d paste a gold star on your forehead, Forbes, but there’s this one little thing you do that just chaps my ass…”
John Morrison se
rved in combat as a Marine sergeant, and retired as a senior lieutenant from the San Diego Police Department, having served there as Director of Training, Commanding Officer of SWAT and division executive officer. He has taught, written and lectured widely on training, tactics and leadership. Contact him at StreetLevelOne@yahoo.com.
First published in the March/April 2007 issue of American COP.
