|
By: Sergeant Ed Stamelos, California Highway
Patrol, Retired
When good cops retire and ultimately settle
down to what they envision as life of fewer
demands. Naturally, thoughts will revolve
around their continued existence, and what
the future will hold in store.
Before retirement becomes a gleam in the
prospective beneficiary’s eye, memories
revert to the recruitment poster that
haphazardly hung in the barbershop, or the
words from a respected family member who
themselves joined the department long ago.
They remembered a flyer that called for
self-starters, those that can work under
pressure, with little supervision and ones
who are able to make instant decisions that
will triumph following the most stringent
review. Some decisions will face harsh
scrutiny from the country’s highest ranking
judicial body. Oddly, never once are the
defenders that made that controversial
assessment considered; only the decisions
they made.
If successful, the academy training course
will be a sobering wake-up call. It is if
the devil himself offered a personal escort
onto the downward, ever spiraling, greased
slope of disaster; into what could only be
described as a nightmare. From the first
day, it was not what any expected. For most,
at least while in training, it is what many
would come to revile. Some would fold under
pressure. Most would exceed even their own
expectations. There would be several weeks
of hard work when muscle fiber would tear,
where profuse perspiration could have
irrigated the academy commander’s lawn, and
where the dream of completing this
masochistic exercise was almost
unimaginable.
Once graduated a bond will be formed with
co-workers. It can only be severed death.
The former fledgling has been transformed
into a confident, raptor ready to leave
their safe and protected nest. Asked if
ready? Collectively, and in unison they
shout “UUH-RAHHH!”
From the start, the new officer is expected
to perform with maximum effort. The lives of
family members, the public as well as each
they work with depend on the decisions made.
They must be spontaneous and spot-on. It is
only now they realize why the recruitment
flyer was so accurately specific.
Before one can be entrusted with the
department’s full resources, the recruit
must meet the department’s chosen
inspiration, tolerably known as the “Field
Training Officer. If the trainee had prior
law-enforcement experience, they may have
been used as the spark to ignite the
dampened powder that lay dormant in the
belly of the old cannon. It was a well
intended jab at rejuvenation, most often
unsuccessful. Instead, the first words
imparted to the polished and eager to learn
were, “Trust no one and get them first,
before they get you.” Followed by, “forget
everything you learned in the academy.”
Field training officers love to impart that
knowledge to the impressionable new officer.
It gives them power and the assurance that
everyone they run through that seemingly
never ending break-in crucible will remember
them by. It has been the mantra sung by
field training officers since the days of
Sir Robert Peel.
After weeks of hard work, they are finally
on their own. They have the full resource
and support of their peers, their
supervisors, and the department. Badgering
from the older, apathetic and complacent
officers suggest they should not try to set
the enforcement world record on fire. For
now the words go unheeded.
At last, there is true independence. The
officer may not see a supervisor the entire
shift. The more callused officer may be able
to avoid a chance meeting altogether. For
them, a successful workday is one spent
“Ditching the Ferret.” However, even for the
most astute subordinate, supervisor avoiders
are no competition for the three-striper
with silver hair.
One supervisor, who was aware that a
particular officer was often away from his
assigned sector, called and asked for the
patrol car odometer reading. Suspecting the
mileage was needed to schedule a vehicle
replacement the officer willingly complied.
The supervisor asked for the officer’s
location. One was given well within the
assigned sector. Once reported, the
supervisor directed the officer to remain in
place. When they met, he was asked if he had
moved. He had not. The sergeant checked the
car’s odometer and found it to be errant by
47 miles more than originally reported. The
officer was directed to explain the
discrepancy in writing.
A few departments publish in-house, the
sustained transgressions committed by
employees (names withheld). They are fondly
referred to as, “The Funny Papers.” Some are
humorous in nature. One incident described a
pizza parlor owner who reported an
intoxicated off-duty officer that was
swinging from a chandelier in his
restaurant. The officer, wearing buccaneer
boots and swishing a pirate sword, was
shouting “Prepare to be boarded.”
Ironically, he boarded the plank of
suspension for a day.
Time on the job passes quickly and seasoned
officers may find themselves at a career
fork in the road; they either become a
career officer, become a part of management,
or resign and move on. Each spoke in the
career choice trinity offers rewards and
consequences. Of the first two choices,
there is little more rewarding than to
present the most favorable image of the
department in which they represent.
Conversely, there is a line between positive
conduct and appalling bad judgment. The
scrutiny an officer will suffer affects not
only their individual verve, but the
reputation of the entire department. All
will feel the repercussions of the
employee’s wrongdoing.
Once close, retirement must be given serious
consideration. The thought of leaving
something to which one has devoted time,
energy, and deep feeling cannot be taken
lightly. Transitioning from something
exciting, and challenging, to a
non-productive, more or less recluse
existence is almost unconscionable.
Realistically, part of them will be taken
forever. It means parting with a piece of
their soul. Old cops do not like to leave
things they love.
For the young, it is not a problem. Every
new day is a wild and intense liaison
intravenously pulsed into the throbbing vein
of destiny. They want to be there for each
and every electrifying second. The new
officer, still somewhat impetuous wishes to
brim his basket of experience yesterday.
Little do they know, retirement will face
them faster than it takes a divorce attorney
to ask for a retainer.
A cop has a lot to think about before
retirement; anticipation yes, but also the
heartbreaking downside that is a close kin
to rejection. The last day is one of mixed
emotion. They realize the gate leading to
the pasture only opens one way. A return to
the office even after a short time can make
the retiree feel uneasy. Now, they must
enter through the front door, and most
assuredly, there will be new faces.
Years pass and as inflation catches up, the
fiscal silk thread of economic solvency
becomes so thin, it can no longer support
the weight of the sacrificial worm that wove
it long ago. The only golf played now is
miniature golf. The former officer is no
longer unique. They become a blade of grass
in a meadow fertilized by the manure that
seems all too memorable of times past.
When the monthly retirement stipend will no
longer cover the inflated cost of living, a
sobering chat with the demons that circle
the comfortable existence globe scream for a
financial resolution. The local Wal-Mart
greeter position, the position they swore
never to seek, the one in which duties
include collecting and separating Wal-Mart
carts from Safeway carts suddenly becomes
attractive.
It is understandable how the spiraling
financial demise reluctantly happens. One
reason was the recent divorce that split the
ever fragile post-retirement marital bliss.
No longer is the soon to be ex-spouse
willing to have a beer drinking, demanding,
balding, sorrowful blob of order spewing
minutia close by, let alone full-time. It
has been the other’s domain for thirty years
and no one is going to impose on that
sanctioned, consecrated ground.
As for the geezerette, her spouse suddenly
becomes unwilling to perform as if he was a
balanced ball on the nose of a rampaging,
menopausal sea lion who has fed upon great
white sharks for the last twenty-five years.
It won’t happen in his sea of tranquility.
Once the former guardian of peace realizes
that half their salary, half their
retirement, and possibly a tad of spousal
support will be leaving the fold of their
wallet or purse each month, the moths they
harbored will have nothing to feed upon.
In a few years, however, the retiree will
resolve life’s pressing issues and find a
happy place. With a sense of pride, they
hold dear the remaining photographs of days
long past when they were the center of
attention, when they were the resilient ones
that others looked to for direction. Now the
TV and an old, slow computer are the items
centered on each day. They are the only
lifeline to the outside world. Even the cell
phone had to go. To avoid embarrassment from
being without, they wear a garage door
opener.
In a brief attempt to revitalize lost
remembrances, a compassionate friend will
drive by the office where they left so many
memories; a place that filled their heart
with joy and sadness, all within the same
nano-second thought. It will always be the
same, but again, they are quick to realize,
it could never be the same. There are
different people in that building now.
They gaze at the well trained, energetic
officers standing proudly beside the
department’s latest state-of-the-art patrol
cars. They remembered being that young fry
who swam their strongest against the tide of
crime, wrongdoing and misdeed. They did one
heck of a job too! It’s a shame they were
the only ones that recognized it.
Moments later, they will return to a life of
silent recollection. Their pride and
self-respect will provide sustaining
nourishment to get them through the
remaining days; to the day when the last
glimmer of light along with their last
thoughts of past glory fade into darkness.
Only then will there be a genuine and final
release from their profession. How well
those of us who have traveled that journey
understand.
About the Author
Retired California Highway Patrol
Sergeant Ed Stamelos is a 33-year veteran of
law enforcement. He served both as a
California police officer, and as a highway
patrol supervisor. He is the recipient of
the State’s highest award for bravery, the
Medal of Valor. Sergeant Stamelos also
served as a Commissioned Officer in the
California National Guard. He holds an
Associated Science degree from Pasadena City
College and a California Private
Investigator’s license. He currently
resides in northern California and conducts
law enforcement background investigations
for various police agencies.
|
