It was my second trip to the same city because the parole hearing had already been continued once. I was still on new-guy probation, out of state, an hour from home, and in full uniform. After making my first DWI arrest while on FTO I had been subpoenaed to testify in a hearing to violate the bad guy’s parole. I was on my own in an unfamiliar, faraway place and felt like a rookie fish out of water.
Recess
The court took a recess for lunch, so I went to a nearby restaurant to grab a bite. The food was better than the company, which was zero. The waiter left the check in one of those little black coffins where Hamiltons, Jacksons, and Benjamins go to die. I reached for my wallet to lay a few to rest — I reached again, and again, and again. I feverishly patted myself down and even did the alligator arm thing.
Oh crap.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I shouted under my breath. Beads of sweat formed on my five-head (that’s a forehead plus a little extra) and my ears got hot as my face turned bright red. I didn’t have my wallet, an ID, or a nickel.
What To Do, What To Do
There I was, in full uniform, sitting in a booth by myself staring at an empty plate and a bill on the table in front of me. Visions of derelict patrons with rolled up sleeves doing dishes in the kitchen to work off the bill they couldn’t pay while a burly line cook breathed down their neck danced in my head. What the heck was I going to do?
Red-faced, sweating, and in a sheepish voice (which is being generous) I asked for the manager. When the manager came over I didn’t know what else to do but lay it all out on the table, as it were. While trying to sound believable, I could see a gradual wave of disbelief wash over his face as I fell on my sword, admitted I was a moron, and promised to call him with my debit card number when I got back home. The manager agreed, but I’m pretty sure he was guessing I had my fingers crossed behind my back.
Following Through
“Maybe the cops in this town don’t pay?” I wondered. Maybe the manager had been burnt before by some idiot cop? I wasn’t sure, but all I had was my word, and I gave it, and I was determined to keep it.
Later that evening, I called the restaurant and gave the manager my card number. The surprise in his voice was not lost on me. My embarrassment aside, I wondered why it was that when someone did the right thing it seemed like the exception to the rule?
Integrity
Telling the truth and having integrity are core principles that apply to all people, at all times, and in all places. And in this line of work, our word is everything, so we had better keep it. If we can’t be trusted, we can’t testify, and if we can’t testify, we can’t do our job. Look, I get it, it’s much easier to tell the truth in some situations than in others, but we need to do it all the time, even when it’s difficult.
I tell my kids that the things we do are like muscles — the more we do them, the stronger that muscle gets; the less we do them, the weaker it gets. Our integrity and the character qualities that drive our choices, are no exception. If we exercise our integrity muscles in the small things – the lightweight things, – they will get stronger and prepare us for the heavy things. You can’t walk up to a barbell loaded with 300 pounds and expect to lift it if you’ve never even lifted 100. Pretty obvious, right?
Sooner or later we’ll find ourselves in a situation faced with a heavy thing, and we’ll be needing those integrity muscles. So, start with the small stuff.
- What would you have done in my shoes?
- On or off duty, have you had an opportunity to exercise your integrity muscles?
- How could you have handled one of those situations differently?
Do you have a story that you think we could learn from and that you’d like to share with Johnny Tactical nation? Include your name, rank, and department and send it to [email protected] and follow these guidelines:
- It must be a firsthand account
- True
- Have a lesson, principle, or tactic to apply
- Cleaned of names, dates, and places
- Include your call sign
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