They warned me when I took this job--it's frustrating. Everywhere you try to go, there's a stuffed gorilla on the front of your car.
Just to give you an example. I had to get the new guidelines out on using the tasers. One part of that is, no more using them on old ladies. Of course, to keep the ACLU crowd away, we had to set a precise age threshold, and so I thought I'd ask the commissioner-in-charge about it. When I told her I needed her advice on something, she insisted we have lunch at the Georgian Room. Not my kind of place, but I was sitting there with my little white napkin. I said something like, "We've got an issue. How old is old?" and before I could get another word out of my mouth, she slammed down her tea cup and shot back: "Eighty. Read my lips. End of discussion."
A couple of days later, I was doing the show down at City Council, and suddenly I got the ex-fireman from Felony Flats in my face. To him, everything that's wrong is my fault. When I went up to him in the hall to complain about it afterward, he, shall we say, displayed an uncooperative attitude. For a minute, I felt like Rasheed Wallace with that referee in the parking garage after the game. I can see why the boss had to have the man investigated.
I went back to my office and sat there, fuming. I took out the new taser policy. Right where it said "No shooting in the groin"--I picked up a big black marker and crossed that part out. I realized after that meeting, that might be just what some guys need.
--Posted by Derrick at 11:28 pm.