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A foot-beat assignment is the quintessential best and worst job in my business. You make hundreds of contacts that help you, amuse you, and make your life productive and fun. However, the downside is, you get to arrest the same 87 drunks, idiots, and petty criminals over and over, every day, every night, rain or shine. Going to the “Chapel” One afternoon, my partner Mark and I got called into the “Chapel” at Mission Station to see the senior lieutenant. It was known as the Chapel, because while you were standing inside, you’d always be praying silently under your breath, not knowing if you had screwed up big time, were getting a no-win assignment, or were being tasked to “run an errand” for the District Command Staff. ....
The Gods must love technology! At least the ones that politicians, liability lawyers, political activists and bureaucrats pray to that is. I took my oath of office shortly after the invention of fire, but before the Wheel 2.0 was patented by Ogg the first Silicon Valley billionaire. I got my first can of MACE that same day. It was later to be “upgraded” to a hot-pepper-orange-colored spray with a practical reach of about 6-feet, and an effectiveness of stopping Nitwit-the-armed druggie of about 5%. (Cops indulge in all sort of non-city sanctioned activities, but I have VISUAL evidence of that spray being used during a Squad BBQ luncheon as a condiment on roasted pig parts.) ....
Share and speak up for justice, law & order. In my line of work, you get to meet all the wonderfully diverse and different types of human beings. Occasionally, you’ll get to talk with them, enjoy their company, and then put handcuffs on them. Looking back at the span of my career, I’ve met famous movie stars (Clint), legendary authors (Danielle), and waaay too many two-faced lying politicians and other criminals. Usually to meet somebody really notable, you have to work as a cop in one of the swankier areas of San Francisco, hire out as a rent-a-gun, or have fate toss you a bone. ....
Experiencing Mr. Stinky! You kinda had to be there, so follow me… Back when homeless people were hobos, drunks were winos, and “substance abusers” were hypes, I pounded a classic foot patrol beat on San Francisco’s gritty Mission Street. After 3-4 years, I literally knew everyone on my beat; bad, good, or wack-a-doo. I worked out of the Mission District Station at 1240 Valencia St. Mission was a one-story brick and cinder-block bland building with 3-inch-thick bullet proof windows, and a 20-foot chain link fence on the roof. The fence was because early on some radical group had thrown an explosive satchel charge on top of the roof during line-up, trying to kill the 124 cops that were in the building. The bomb didn’t go off, so the city put up a fence to make the next attempt slightly more difficult. ....