If You Want to Have an Outstanding Career in the Police - This Is the First Thing You Need to Learn

Late in December, in a year when sad events populated the news headlines. Earthquakes, riots, air crashes and popular beat combo band members died. 

 - that just about describes any year. 

Adele was riding high in the charts.

 - still any year. 

Okay, I'll narrow it down. It was the year we had the heavy snow, and the country came to a standstill.

Constable Winston Thackerton Fenchurch Jones called the office and left a message for the sergeant explaining his car was stuck in the snow. He would be late for work.

A trickle of minor calls became a flood, and then a deluge. It was all hands to the blue lights and sirens. About two hours into the shift, I radioed in to find out if Constable WTF Jones had made it into the office. No one had seen him. 

The snow ceased, and the calls eased. The rush hour passed, and the improving state of the roads, along with the lessening traffic, gave us a little breathing space. I spoke to my office clerk.

"Have you seen Constable WTF Jones?"

"No, he hasn't arrived yet."

"Has he been in touch to say when he will be here?"

"No, and he still hasn't answered his mobile or house phone."

The news concerned me. What if something had happened to Constable WTF Jones?

I dropped everything and drove to his house. Fingers crossed. Hoping nothing untoward had happened. I had left messages on his home answering machine and his mobile answerphone, but he hadn't responded. 

His street was on a hill. I stopped my car at the bottom and made my way through the snow on foot. 

There were people armed with shovels clearing the snow, dressed in parkas and furry boots. One man, wearing a hooded anorak, looked up from his efforts and I saw it was Constable WTF Jones. 

He looked surprised to see me.

"Hello Inspector, what brings you up here?" 

"You!" 

"I was just helping my neighbours clear the street."

"You are supposed to be at your work. We have been phoning you every ten minutes for the past three hours. I have left messages on your mobile phone and your house phone asking you to contact me immediately."

"Oh, my mobile is charging in the house."

I gave him a withering look. 

Not wanting to explode in front of members of the public, that would be unprofessional - I'm plenty unprofessional enough in private. My expression said everything I needed to say.

As a police officer, you have a responsibility. That responsibility is fundamental to the role. A constable of the law has a duty to guard, watch and patrol so as to protect life and property, preserve order and prevent the commission of offences. 

We give a constable powers and privileges to carry out those duties. Executing those duties is intrinsic to the way an officer of the law should conduct himself. 

Police officers are there to serve the public, deal with emergencies and keep people safe. All the powers conferred on a constable bestow a responsibility to do his or her duty. And you can't do your duty if you are shovelling snow outside your house. 

Constable WTF Jones's face flushed right down to his brass neck.

"What do you want me to do, Inspector?"

"I want you to get in my car, and I'll take you to work."

"I need to get my stuff, Inspector. Do you want to come in?"

"I'll wait in the car." 

I was furious, fuming mad. 

Constable WTF Jones had seriously damaged my trust in him. He had not only breached his duty, but he had also shown contempt for the public he was paid to serve and utter disrespect for the colleagues he'd left to deal with every call that came in. 

He had taken his oath to serve the functions of a constable and had disregarded his obligation to shovel snow with his neighbours. 

I try not to swear because repeated unnecessary profanity only diminishes the effectiveness. Thus, when I do swear, it has more effect, more meaning. 

As I sat in my car waiting for Constable WTF Jones to gather his stuff and join me, I was fucking angry, and I needed to calm the fuck down.

Constable WTF Jones opened the car door and climbed in. I drove off. He had taken ten minutes to gather his stuff. Enough to prevent me from launching into a thunderous outburst of scathing criticism and condemnation. 

Instead, I held it in. I didn't say a word. I drove back to the office in moody silence. 

Constable WTF Jones made the mistake of filling the void.

"I get the impression that you are a little peeved with me, inspector?"

A little peeved! Seriously? A little peeved.

I chose my next words with care.

"Son, I am more than a little peeved, so if you know what's good for you, just sit there nice and quiet and I'll talk to you about it when I'm good and ready."

I drove on. 

The dipstick next to me couldn't keep up the silence and after a minute, he decided he had better apologise.

"I'm sorry, Inspector; it was just that when I got back to my flat, my car got stuck in the snow and I couldn't get it out. I thought it best to phone in and leave a message for the sergeant."

When he got back to his flat?

"What do you mean, 'when you got back to your flat?'"

"I was staying at my girlfriend's and I had to go home to get my stuff before I came to work."

"What stuff?"

"Just my sandwiches and stuff."

"Sandwiches and stuff?"

"Yeah, my lunch."

"Where is your uniform?"

"In my locker at the office."

"So, why did you need to go back into your house just now?"

"I needed to get my sandwiches."

He wasn't making his situation any better.

"How far away does your girlfriend stay?"

"About fifteen miles. But it took me a lot longer to get back in the snow."

"You mean you drove fifteen miles in the snow back to your house but couldn't get from there to your work?"

"Well, I kinda got stuck."

"You didn't think to park at the bottom of your street and walk up?"

"No, I suppose I should have. I drove into my driveway so I could get turned, but I couldn't get the car back out."

"Wait a minute. There was no car in your drive when I was up there."

"Um, no, my neighbour helped me push it out."

"So your car isn't stuck anymore?"

Constable WTF Jones might have been shovelling snow when I saw him, but now he was digging an even bigger hole for himself.

"No. It's out."

"So why didn't you come to your work?"

"I thought I'd better help the rest of my neighbours clear the street, so I got my shovel and helped them."

He said this as if it made up for everything. As if it was more important than attending emergency calls and helping those in genuine need, more important than assisting his colleagues and not leaving them to attend every incident.

"Why didn't you tell me your car wasn't stuck anymore? You could have driven yourself to work!"

"I thought I better do as you told me."

It might surprise you to know I didn't stop the car, get out and go around to Constable WTF Jones' side, open his door and drag him out. I didn't handcuff him to a lamppost, and I didn't get back into the car and reverse over him. That's how much I have grown. That's how outstanding and professional I am.

At the office, I left him with my sergeant and told him I would speak to him the next day.

That night, I lay in my bed and couldn't sleep. 

The incident had trodden a muddy path through my head and I needed a mop and bucket for my brain. 

I was consumed with anger, then irritation, and then frustration. I weighed over how best to deal with the situation and what I would say to him.

I thought about it long and hard. 

My anger dissipated. 

Maybe Constable WTF Jones wasn't a shirker. He might have been a normal person with normal thoughts and feelings. Maybe it was the police training at fault, or maybe his tutor cop, or the company he kept, or even my expectations.

I don't recall there being any training in relation to doing our duty or our need to be dependable. They taught us the rudiments of theft, poaching, and pissing in the street. But nobody sat us down and said, "Do you truly understand what it means to be an officer of the law?"

Then there was my sense of duty. I was doing the job of an inspector. I had more than a quarter of a century to shape my beliefs and understanding of what it means to be a constable. 

When I joined, I was a little upstart and didn't know squat. Why should I expect an officer like Constable WTF Jones to be any different? His priorities were different to mine. He didn't have a wife and a family to feed, I did. 

When I was his age, my priorities were probably along the same lines as his - earn enough money to buy enough beer to get the Dutch courage to ask a girl out.

The day after Constable WTF Jones failed in his duty, I called him into my office. I sat him down, and we had a chat. After our chat, I put it behind me, and I moved on. 

We all make mistakes, and Constable WTF Jones made a monumental mistake. As epic as it was, nobody got hurt, nobody suffered unduly, and nobody died. The problem is that all of those circumstances could have happened. 

I asked Constable WTF Jones how he would have felt if he was going from call to call, getting run ragged, and he knew that one of his colleagues had left him to it.

I asked Constable WTF Jones how he would have felt if his mother had been involved in an accident and needed police assistance, but the cop, who was supposed to be on duty, took it upon himself to shovel snow instead.

Then I asked Constable WTF Jones what he had learned.

Give him his due, he admitted he had made a colossal error of judgement and apologised. 

That night in bed

I regurgitated and re-digested the events in my head and made some conclusions.

Learning from your mistakes is paramount - and learning from others' mistakes is incredibly potent. 

It is important to take your responsibilities solemnly and in earnest. To be purposeful in your commitment. 

Having a sense of duty and being accountable will gain the trust of others and strongly affect how you are perceived.

And the first step.

To have an outstanding career in any job. To have outstanding relationships with your family and friends requires one thing - 

You need to show up.