Time To Move On

(Originally written 13 June 2009)

I sat in the dark.  I watched. 
I had pride in my professional ability to witness hideous atrocities and not show a single emotion.  Years of work with the Sheriff’s Office seeing human rudeness as well as the viewing of homicide photos for my medicolegal studies had left me jaded and, I thought, pretty cool under pressure.  This was different.  I continued to watch.  I felt my throat constrict.  Tears threatened. I reprimanded myself and tried to do some deep breathing but couldn’t seem to stop the mounting anxiety.  I tried to close my eyes but I could still hear.  I made a critical decision.  I stood up and grabbed my purse and turned out the rear exit, trying to hold my sob until I got outside the theater.  I was momentarily startled as I almost ran into a tall dark figure that was also exiting in front of me. 

I burst out of the second set of doors and into the sunny alcove where there were a few conversation chairs and benches arranged for breaks.  I was even more surprised to see several other individuals coming out the rear exit on the other side of the theater.  We all had one thing in common.  We were all trying not to cry. 

I made my way to the huge expanse of window overlooking Route 28.  I found a tissue in my purse and did my best to dab at my eyes so that I wouldn’t look like a drowned raccoon.  It was quiet in the alcove and I listened to the others.  The man closest to me was a big tall Marine looking type.  Tough and buff.  Khakis and a casual black dress shirt.  And tears.  Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad about my own emotional slip.  If a big tough guy could cry then I supposed it was okay for me.  I stared out the window and wanted nothing more then to leave.  Go home to my new baby daughter and wrap her in my arms and kiss her.  This was too much for me.  For anyone.  How could we win?  There was no way we would ever be completely safe.  I stopped myself.  If we all thought like this then we had already lost.  I wasn’t raised a quitter and wasn’t going to start now.  I was going to compose myself, go back in there and learn everything I could to make a difference no matter how small.

I used to have a job that I loved and that I was proud of. I used to feel like I made a difference.  Now, I don't. My job has gone from something I enjoyed to something I dread. From something I took pride in to something I want to avoid.  I know I am valuable and I know I am worth something. I am looking for a new job so I can, once again, assist my coworkers and all my clients – Federal, State, Local, Public and Private.   This is important.  I will make a difference.  And I will not be steam rolled by one petty bitch's  ignorance and greed.

Time to move on.

*This was written after viewing a classified film that was part of a classified briefing at a location that might be obvious to some but was not named.

Here's To Those Who Do A Thankless Job....

There are a ton of people who do jobs every day that others take for granted. Those jobs are often tedious & boring.  Sometimes they really suck. I think about my sister in law who teaches special ed in a high school setting and has to change the diapers on some of her students. I think about Auburn who is in Afghanistan working 16 hour days without a day off or break just so folks back here can bitch.

I sit and watch people whine about their jobs. Complain about the fact they don't get a huge bonus or an extra five minutes of lunch. A huge crisis for them is if they can't cut out early to get to the bar or attend a concert.

I sit here now typing this after taking a quick break to refresh my brain. You see, some aspects of my job are tedious. Monotonous. Boring. Dull as all hell. Yet, they are SO important. 

Back when I was in Law Enforcement and worked my very first job with homicide, you know what I got tasked to do as the rookie? Photo line ups. Yup. Putting together a "six pack" (that's what we called the six photographs you use in a photo line up). You may roll your eyes and think, "What's so hard about THAT? Pull six pics and get on with it."  (Some of you younger folks may not realize this was, and still is in some places, done by hand with no computer). But it's not that easy. There are rules to putting together a GOOD photo line up that a defense attorney, jury and judge will all accept. If your subject is a black man, you can't put his picture in with five white men. If your subject wears glasses, all of them should wear glasses. You can't have a pic of someone sneering at the camera or making a face that calls attention to himself. The photos must be different but not so different that the person making the ID could be drawn to the subject by some odd thing that makes him stand out past the others. In short, it's a big deal to do it just right because if the subject is identified off a questionable six pack, the whole case could get thrown out and all charges dropped.

It meant a lot to me to do a good job. I didn't want it to be my fault an armed robber or a rapist got off free and clear because I did a sub par job on the six pack. And I did them well. The other detectives were so impressed they often asked me to do it because I had that slow steady patience and eye needed to do it right. None of my six packs were ever thrown out. Of that I am proud.

So....I sit here today. A long way and time from back with the department. All those years ago, I sat crossed legged on the threadbare carpet floor in the small closet that held the huge file cabinets full of mug shots. Now I have my OWN office. We have computers to help do things but some things are still done by hand. The old fashioned way. With patience and an eye to detail. Back then, a mistake might be disappointment to a few. But now, a mistake could mean life and death for many. I still take my job just as seriously. I am still very very proud of my work. It's different but still important. Although no one will ever probably know how or how much. But...I am okay with that. Because I am not alone.

So, here's a toast to all of those who also do a thankless job behind the scenes but still do it well and with pride and with care and attention.  Cheers!