Category Archives: Better at Work

When I do things better at work or do a good job

Better on the Crazy Train

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I have written a lot about living our lives on autopilot – just going through life watching TV, jumping from shiny thing to shiny thing and then, bang, one day you wake up dead and think how did that happen, I had so much to do!

I think there is another trap in life, especially modern life and that is riding the crazy train with all the other clowns and not knowing it.

There are two major challenges here – firstly getting on the crazy train and then getting off.

The crazy train is also a very different place.  All the people on the crazy train don’t know they are crazy and don’t even know they are dressed as clowns and recruiting other commuters.

We all have to ride the crazy train.  It involves listening to the Merchants of Misery (The Media) and believing them; working at jobs that don’t mean anything or make anything (commonly known as bullshit jobs), doing anything that involves any government agency or Bank, etc etc

But, the crazy train is a means of transport and doesn’t have to be a way of life.

Here is my little example.  You have to get on the crazy train to undertake one of the above  bits of life in modern society.  You press the button and step onto the train with a clear intention of your destination – by the way you don’t have to buy a ticket on the crazy train, it free!

You look around and see that everyone on the train is dressed as a clown.  They are squirting each other in the face with plastic flowers, throwing buckets of confetti over each other, driving up and down the isles in those little cars and generally doing what clowns do – this is the purpose of the crazy train – pointless motion in costume to achieve little results.

You find a seat by the window thinking of your destination.

Suddenly a very nice clown sits next to you and asks why you aren’t dressed properly and points out that you stand out as being different.  You politely tell them you just want to ride the train to your appointment.  His is very understanding and agrees that it’s okay for you to do that…… but, …… suggests that just so that you fit in a little better you might want to just try on, you don’t have to wear it all the way, but just try on, this red nose.

What could be the harm you think – you do feel a little awkward and the nose might help.  After putting on the nose you are introduced to a few other clowns.  Each one suggests something else you might want to wear to fit in a bit more…. what could be the harm you think.

So as your destination is approaching, you are in full clown outfit and juggling at the end of of the carriage when your stop is announced.  You say you have to get off, but you have fitted in so well, it seems a shame to leave now.

Some insist you stay as you are the best juggler they have ever had…..

What, me, juggler clown…?  You yell out “No, I am not like you.” and as you do you catch your reflection in the window of the carriage, in full clown outfit, juggling and smiling through your clown makeup……

You stay on the crazy train.  You can’t remember your original destination but you are now going with everybody else and it seems like the right thing to do.

Suddenly the door opens and a person gets on with street clothes one.  You sit next to them and suggest they try on the spare red nose you have so that they will fit in a bit more.

Better at Not Knowing Who I Am….

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The other day I heard this great explanation of figuring out who you are;  it starts off as a little bit of a test and the interesting use of the word percieve.

This is a bit of a follow on from a post I wrote the other day about possibly being in a computer simulation (which I suspect may still actually be true!) – the thing about this post was in part, identifying who I actually was.

The dictionary meaning being “become aware or conscious of (something); come to realize or understand”

So here is the exercise about finding who you are…. I will use a car (an ordinary automobile, like the one you drive to work):

  • I am looking at a car (or even driving it, or touching it)
  • I can perceive that car.
  • Am I the car?
  • No.  I am not the car because I can perceive it.
  • I can not be something I can perceive.

You can repeat this exercise around the entire house with all the things you own.  You can even do it with your friends ….. “Am I my best friend, no, because I can perceive my best friend, so I can not be them….”

Now comes the really tricky part of this little exercise.  Stop worrying about all the ‘things’ and people around you and just take a seat and think about you.  Now we are going to repeat the exercise.

  • Am I my body? No.
    Because I can perceive my body.
  • Am I my thoughts?
    No.
    Because I can perceive my thoughts.
  • Am I my emotions?
    No.
    Because I can perceive my emotions.

What the…..!!!!!

What am I.
Who am I.
Who is this all perceiving me.

Good question?

Better the Construct of Myself (Is this The Matrix?)

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The start of this post may not make sense to people who have not seen (or understood!) the movie The Matrix – but a lot of people will say the movie can not be understood…. anyway I digress.

To summarise the premise of the movie:

Our lives as we perceive them are computer generated and we are all actually living in a simulation…

That about sums up the Matrix and the rest of the movie and subsequent sequels are about our hero, Neo, trying to get control of the simulation and escape to the ‘real world’.  (The real world in the movie is actually a bit shit and we all live as human batteries in a pod of jelly – but again I digress….)

Part of our hero Neo’s education of him being a ‘slave to the machines’ who run the simulation (The Matrix) is that he goes back into the Matrix to defeat it.  In going back into The Matrix he finds has a certain look, wears certain clothes, has a certain haircut etc etc – all of which turn out to be his ‘construct’ of himself in his mind which is translated into his appearance in The Matrix…..

NB: Apologies but I think my introduction above to this post is as about as complicated as the movie!!!!!

So, our hero Nero lives in the Matrix as a ‘construct’ of what his mind tells him he is…..

Is this sounding a little familiar now?

I think we all live in this world (which the longer I observe could actually be The Matrix and the movie was really a documentary…!!!) as constructs of ourselves.

For me the ‘taking of the blue pill or the red pill’ (for those who haven’t seen the movie the choosing of the pill is the time that our hero decides if he wants to know the truth!) was when I retired from my career after 38 years…..  suddenly I was no longer the ‘construct’ I had made of myself over those years.  For me this was a bit scary as I actually thought this was who I was.

For all of us I think this construct is different, but it is often just the way we think about ourselves as opposed to the way we act.  I was trying to think of a few generic example…

We think we are generous but dont donate to the man in the street…

We think we are good at maths but can’t balance our finances…

We think we are no confrontational yet always appear to be in arguments…

We think the bloke down the street is an idiot yet he appears to be happy and we are always miserable…

I think the problem with our ‘construct’ is that it only relates to the real world in our head, and worse it is only visible as a shit construct to those around us and not ourselves.

One thing that led Neo to discover The Matrix was that everyday he had lived his life, it just, didn’t feel right.

In my pervious career it never just felt right.  The values that I was living, didn’t quite feel right, my interactions with people, mostly didn’t quite feel right (the funny part about this is the best interactions I had with people which I remember vividly today were the ones where upon reflection I didn’t behave in line with my construct)…. mostly, in the last 38 years I feel as if I have been living in The Matrix, walking around in a constructed personality, clothes, attitudes, loves and hates, friends and enemies, values and even dreams and aspirations, which were created outside of me.

A lot of what has happened to me in the past, a lot of what I did and said, was like watching a movie.

So, I wake up – I take the pill that shows me The Matrix is not real and my construct… my construct of me, of who I think I am, who other people think I am…. is in actual fact, basically, bullshit!

Well, let me tell you that realisation is where the fun starts, as perhaps you are left with nothing.  I was lucky.  Still lurking inside me somewhere was me.

I am still trying to find him… and let me tell you 38 years of learned, acted and executed behaviours is something pretty hard to unlearn.

Living now is really living the adage that if it doesn’t ‘feel’ right, even if that feeling can’t be put into a logical train of thought, then it probably isn’t.  I catch myself at least a thousand times a day thinking as the ‘construct’ who is telling me that the person I am trying to find is actually imaginary and get back to the real world and the business at hand…

But, I think there is a trick.

What if the new me is just another construct and I find that I am watching the wrong movie, and it is all just a dream within a dream and Leonardo DiCaprio just appeared from Inception….

Better Retired (1 Year) – Happy Birthday Mum

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Well where did that year go. Where did my ‘gap year’ go – did it start.

So a year ago I retired from the Police after 38 years – coincidentally it was on my Mum Gloria’s birthday.  She has been gone now for almost 3 years.

Nothing is permanent.c994218c9dd900cc2722235c2ed5bd5a--retirement-sayings-retirement-cards

We live our lives oblivious to the only one true inevitability – death.

On my final day in the Police there were a few things I wish I had done.  I wonder how big that list will be on my last day alive?

What if that day is today?
On my last day in the Police people asked me how I felt – I said relieved.  I felt the weight of responsibility lift from my shoulders.  Now this was a responsibility I had sworn to uphold (it was an oath I took pretty seriously) and I hoped on occasions I went beyond the call of duty.  Often it wasn’t a duty, it was really an honour.
On my last day on this planet (working on the fact that I will live to be 85 – I have 10423 days left) I wonder if I will think that I had spent my time well.  I wonder if each of those days I have left I will spend well.  As the poem goes, I wonder if I would have spent the Top-5-regrets-for-EL-Mag-VFdash between the date of my birth and the date of my death well.

In thinking, have I spent the last year, my first year of retirement, well.  Firstly, I suppose, I have to define well?  Is it doing what I want to make me happy; doing something that is meaningful; doing things for others – is it all of these things.  And if it is any of them, how do I measure it.

So, I am on the last day of the first year of my retirement – let’s pretend that it is not that day, but a day 10423 days into the future.

So, it is the future, 1st May 2046 and it is my last day and that day is today – I have a few hours left what should I do?  Lets go through the list of what I have been doing and decide what will make the final hours bucket list…..

  • Watching TV (especially Survivor!) – NO
  • Reading or Watching the News – NO  (I actually stopped doing that a few years ago…)
  • Shopping – NO  (what do I need in these final hours – what have I ever actually needed?)
  • Visiting Friends – Some are so far away (and I haven’t spoken to them for so long?)
  • Write Thank You and Sorry Letters – NO  (Wow that’s a long list, do I have time left?)
  • Visit the Kids – NO  (They are so busy – and I know you only miss your folks after they are gone…)
  • Arguing over bills, or money, or politics or religion – who would I argue with?  How would me winning any argument change my last day on earth?
  • Spend it with my Wife – I spend everyday with her, I tell her I love her every day, don’t I?
  • Spend it with Me – But, I know me don’t I (wouldn’t that be a waste of time?)

 

The clock is ticking and I don’t know what to do: there just isn’t enough time to finish everything and do all the important things.  I can’t even work out what the important things are!  I just keep thinking about all the things I have done (regrets and triumphs) and all the things I wont get to do.  I am sitting there as the minutes turn into hours and my final day on earth is disappearing and I haven’t achieved anything meaningful all day…..

Unfortunately all the ‘NOWS’ in my life have become yesterdays or unfulfilled dreams of the future.  What the fuck happened to everyone one of those 2,682,374,400 seconds – I just lived…. tick, tick, tick…. they just seemed to disappear in the noise of my life.

Now it is quiet and I have those final minutes, those final seconds…. what am I thinking….

But, as that clock tick’s those final seconds, each one is NOW: in each one I am alive and I get to truely experience it, the miracle of it, the absolute joy of that one moment….

As that last second ticks, I realise that I had 2,682,374,399 of them, that I may have
missed – glad I noticed that last one.

Back to the present – Lucky for me I actually have 900,547,200 left!IMG_4828

So, today, after 31,536,000 seconds of retirement: 89,683,200 seconds since Mum went to a better place; today on Mum’s Birthday, my ‘retirement day’ I am going to notice each one of those seconds.

I am going to be aware of me, of my life and that, in itself, is a miracle, a joy, and is in fact, right now!

Happy Retirement Day Ian – Happy Birthday Mum.  x

 

Better Positive Language

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I'm positive about this....

This post is a disaster – I’m positive!  To save time go straight to the end.

I wrote an article a couple of years ago about the use of the term “Yes No” – okay it doesn’t sound like a term of speech but everybody was using it – have a read, click here.

I thought this phenomenon was over, well it is, I think, sort of, um, yes and no, yes no, well, pretty much…. Oh, God I have become one of ‘them.’

I would just occasionally like someone to use ‘positive language’ in answering my questions.

What do I mean by ‘positive language?’

I think the best way to explain it is to look at what it isn’t.  Here are a few examples of the opposite to positive language answers:

Me to the mechanic “When will my car be ready”
The mechanic “It should be ready Friday”

Me at the bank “Are there any charges for this transaction.”
The bank teller “No, there shouldn’t be.”

Me in the supermarket “Can you tell me were the tomato sauce is please?”
Supermarket staff “I think it is in isle 5.”

Me to a mate at the pub “Is this illegal”
My (Ex) Mate “No, I don’t think so.”

Other great ‘key words’ are ‘probably‘ ‘maybe‘ ‘sometimes‘ ‘usually‘ etc etc

I am confused.  Surely you know something or you don’t.  Things either are or are not.  Why do we give these answers and more importantly why do we accept them?

Is it because we are afraid to say “I don’t know” because that may actually entail us having to find out – or is it because we don’t care, on either side of the question?

I am sure some of these questions are more important that others…. e.g. “Are there I'm positive - okay, I don't know?peanuts in this?” or “Is this a live wire?” or “Are you allergic to this medication?”

However, surely if we get ourselves into a situation of asking questions and accepting answers in the realm of guessing the trivial can suddenly become important.  Or, again do we care.

What is usually the purpose of asking a question?  Is it to gain information or to abrogate responsibility?

I am beginning to think that as we walk around this earth, mostly quite oblivious to our purpose here, our ultimate destination unknown and our lives dictated by the media (the merchants of misery) we are getting to a point where the questions don’t really matter and the answers are even more irrelevant because in the end it will always be someone else fault anyway.

I also think that asking many of these questions and getting any definitive answer is a moot point, as we have already made our assumptions, formed our opinions and have our own beliefs that so influence the current situations that further information is only asked for and answers given to annoy us.

Let’s revisit the above questions with our assumed, believed and set opinions in the open:

Me to the mechanic “When will my car be ready?” (Thought: Why am I asking it will be a guess anyway and they are always late….)
The mechanic “It should be ready Friday.” (Thought: Fuck knows)

Me at the bank “Are there any charges for this transaction?” (Thought: The bank will rip me off anyway so why am I asking – how will I pay that electricity bill?)
The bank teller “No, there shouldn’t be.” (Thought: How would I know – you’re in a bank there are charges for breathing!)

Me in the supermarket “Can you tell me were the tomato sauce is please?” (Thought: I have a rough idea, I’m just too lazy to look…)
Supermarket staff “I think it is in isle 5.” (Thought: Fuck knows, I’m 15 and only been working here for a week…)

Me to a mate at the pub “Is this illegal” (Thought: I’m doing it anyway, I just need an excuse..)
My (Ex) Mate “No, I don’t think so.” (Thought: Of course it is you idiot… this is going to be great!)

Okay, probably not true in every case, but maybe a few.

It’s just that I think we ask questions about a lot of things, no caring about the answer but seeking reassurance that what I suspect is something I don’t have to worry about and if I ask the question I can blame someone else.

In addition when the shit does hits the fan I can say I asked and they said ‘Yes’ and they can deny it.

So, where does the responsibility actually lie – in the question or in the answer.  I think both.  Plus it doesn’t hurt to ask and it doesn’t hurt to say “sorry I don’t know.”

And, then there are just sometimes when we ask questions because the other person doesn’t know and we do….

Reader of this blog    “What is this article trying to say?”
Me   “I’m not really sure?”
Reader of this blog    “But, surely you wrote it to get some point across?”
Me    “Initially I did, then I got a bit lost as to what that point was.  I think I
just wanted to have a whinge and for someone to listen?”
Reader of this blog   “So what should I do now?”
Me   “Probably get on with your life.”
Reader of this blog   “I think I will.”
Me   “I should too.”

We then watched Netflix for 4 hours and laughed at Youtube clips until we were board.I'm positive - okay, I was positively wrong!

I had to leave and pick up the car – it was due last Thursday…..

PS:  I have just re-read this blog, I didn’t get it.  I read it to my wife and she said it was a complex concept and confusingly written  – she is a good judge.  I laughed at having wasted 30 minutes writing it and as such – just HAD to publish it immediately!  My explanation of positive language I am sure has been a failure – I think!  I am sure most haven’t read this far anyway!

 

 

 

Better the Glass Ceiling (or Floor?)

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I was chatting to a friend the other day who works in a professional capacity and she said that she probably wasn’t going to get any further promotions as she had ‘hit the glass glass ceiling…’Screen Shot 2017-08-02 at 09.19.20

Of course, as a man, I responded that as a woman she could have at least brought the Windex and given it a bit of a clean…. (I suppose that comment is one way to
get more hits on this post… and probably a couple in the face!)
So, what is this glass ceiling.  Mr Google had a good definition:

“an unacknowledged barrier to advancement in a profession, especially affecting women and members of minorities”

Yeah, sounds right to me.  So what are some strategies for breaking through this glass ceiling?  Thanks again Mr Google:

Breaking the Glass Ceiling

Original article compliments Mindtools – click here to read full article

Identify the Key Competencies within Your Organisation

  • What are the values of your organization?
  • What behaviors does your company value and reward?
  • What type of person is promoted?

Set Objectives to Align Your Competencies With Top Management

  • Let your boss know that you want to work toward a higher-level position.
  • Ask your boss what skill areas you need to develop.
  • Work together with your boss to set goals and objectives, then monitor and measure your performance.

Build Your Network

  • Reach out to new people on a regular basis.
  • Get involved with cross-functional teams.
  • Expand your professional network outside of your organization. If you can’t break the glass ceiling in your company, you may have to look elsewhere for opportunities.

Find a Mentor

  • Is there someone in upper management you can approach to help you?
  • Will your boss be able to provide mentoring support?
  • Are there people with strong political power who can offer you assistance?

Build Your Reputation

  • Seek high-profile projects.
  • Speak up and contribute in meetings.
  • Share ideas with peers as well as people in higher positions.
  • Identify places where your reputation is not what you want it to be, and develop plans to change them.

Know Your Rights

Finally, watch for discriminatory behavior. Sometimes biases and stereotyping can cross the line into discrimination.

So there you are – SMASH, CRASH and you’re through the glass ceiling!Screen Shot 2017-08-02 at 09.29.09

You have become ‘one of them’….. Yahoo, you are a success!

Why is that such a good thing?  Is it the money?  Is it the power?  Is it just the principle?

Or, are you really one of them?  What does that actually mean?  Is it a good thing?

Why should you have to break through the glass ceiling?  What are the people above the glass ceiling thinking?  What have they got that you haven’t?

Or is the more important question ‘What are they missing that I have but they don’t recognise or appear to want?” – What we really say is “What is wrong with me.”

It has taken me half this post to get to the point.  What is it?  Firstly, there is nothing wrong with you!

This ‘glass barrier’ is being looked at all wrong.  We below want to be those above but in doing so we give up something.  What is it?  We give up all the things that those above have given up to be there.  We give up the knowledge that the barrier exists.

Yes.  Ask anyone above the barrier of its existence.  They say it’s a myth.  Ask the CEO if his organisation has a class, gender, race etc etc barrier and he (or even she) will (unless somehow enlightened!) will say no.  The strength of the glass ceiling is in the denial of its existence by all those above it.

The trick of the ‘glass ceiling’ is that it has taken a long time to create – not years, not decades, but centuries.  It has become for those above it, so normal, that it is unnoticed and beyond their ability to comprehend.

Our roles were assigned long ago.  The interesting and probably most perverse attribute of the ‘glass ceiling’ is that it is no longer just based on gender, race or a myriad of other physical, personal, social, religious, economic or race identifiers, but, on a mindset of entitlement.Screen Shot 2017-08-02 at 09.23.07

Those above have it.  It is not an understanding it is just something that you have.  Those below don’t have it.  They cant understand what it even is that they don’t have.  But, when they break through the ‘glass ceiling’ they suddenly have it, that mindset.  They just get it, they don’t understand it and realise that they don’t have to understand it – as a matter of fact most don’t even realise they don’t realise.

So getting above the glass ceiling is not done by smashing through it from below – because that is not what happens.  You pass through the glass ceiling in a process of osmosis and suddenly you are above it and you are one of them – instantly – and standing on the still intact transparent floor below your feet.

The glass ceiling can not be broken from below.  It must be stamped on by those above who realise that their entitlement is as transparent as the floor.  It is the realisation that those below have talents, attributes, skills, knowledge, ideas, passions etc etc that can make a difference, a positive difference and create mutually beneficial situations for everybody…… it is something that we are all entitled to have, share and benefit from.

But, those above the glass ceiling must give up their entitlement.  Not share it, as that just creates more entitled.  The glass ceiling is not smashed but slid aside by those above and they reach down and lift those from below.

They greet them, welcome them.

They ask them what is their passion and what they want to do to make things better.  They mentor them, guide them, train them, support them, protect them, back them, be honest with them….Screen Shot 2017-08-02 at 09.28.00

And the glass ceiling which is actually made of entitlement and not prejudice is not broken but dissolved.

I wonder what that Board Meeting would look like?

 

 

 

Better at Birthdays (20454 days)

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Today is a funny day!

It is my Birthday which is 56 years ago, or more importantly 20,454 days.

Year One

                          Year One

Those are individual days where I got up (albeit the first few where I was as a helpless baby – because I was!), did stuff and then went to bed again….  that is a lot of 24 hour periods to do stuff.

The funny part is, that everyone of those days is now gone, forever.  They are in the past.  They can not be changed.

I have an App on my phone which counts days;  you can set various ‘count downs’ or ‘count froms’ to figure out the exact number of days to any point in time.  I was sitting there some time ago when I thought “I wonder how long I have left.”  I guesstimated that if I live to 85, I would be pretty happy with that.

So…..

10,765 days left

I have about a third of the days left that I have already lived.  A few years ago when I retired I did some similar maths. I worked out I spent about 14,006 days working (not counting days off and sickies!).

I have decided that Birthdays are great reminders, not of how many days we have spent on this earth, but working out how many days we may have left.  Also, the most important question, how we are going to spend them.  Who knows, I may have only 1 day left.  But, if I do, how will I spend it?

I have decided that I will not spend that ONE DAY worrying about the previous 20,454 – I can’t change them.  However, I can change the one I am living now; or if I am lucky the one I will live tomorrow.

Lots of people sent me Birthday wishes, for which I was really grateful.  It reminded me of all the good people I have known, all the good times I have had, but, most of all it reminded me that they are still here, that we all have at least the rest of today, and if we are lucky tomorrow to enjoy.

Don’t all of us lament the fact that we have wasted a few days, perhaps a few years – but, why should that dictate tomorrow.  The old adage that the best indicator of future behaviour is past behaviour….  that’s just bullshit.  I refuse to have my life dictated by a past that can’t be changed. I will not allow it to dictate my future.  This is not just bullshit, that is complete bullshit!

Now!

I will spend the next 10,765 days doing the things that matter the most in my life.  Hopefully I will have a few more days than that.  It has nothing to do with money or possessions (remember, you never see a trailer on a hearse).  It has to do with knowing that this day, can actually be the best day of my life.

Life is really pretty simple.

Something to love, something worthwhile to do, something to look forward to…..

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Today to me, Happy Tomorrow to me!

Better Dancers – in Death, Thank God We Can’t Hear the Music

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I haven’t written a post for a while as I have been busy – not with life, as that is always there, and always gets in the way.  I have been busy with a support group called the 801 Group.

It is a support group for Police in South Australia, their family, friends and colleagues who suffer from PTSD, stress, anxiety and depression.  I have written a few posts about it in the past.

The group started about 18 months ago with a few of us getting together and having a coffee and a chat.  We went into the wider world and started a Facebook Page which slowly grew although attendance at the meetings waxed and waned but rarely into double figures.

During those meetings we shared horrible, tragic, frightening stories; and we looked in each others eyes and knew we were, finally understood.  We supported each other, received a few phone calls from others (a lot actually, if you count Facebook personal messages) who just could not make it to the meetings.  Most couldn’t make it to the meetings because they were psychologically too damaged, to embarrassed or no one else knew they were suffering (many were taking annual leave instead of telling anyone of there battles).

I was one of the founders of the group and did it because I didn’t want any more cops to have nowhere to go.  I didn’t want anymore cops to suicide – if just hurt my heart too much (even when I didn’t know them).

Our little group (ignored by the South Australia Police who sent us a nice letter saying they acknowledged we existed but they had their own stuff – and the Police Association of South Australia who printed a letter from us in their Journal and then said they wouldn’t give us their ‘imprimatur’ – if I here that fucking word one more time I will scream – plus PASA had their own stuff, their own long game, wait and see we are talking to the Government….. blah, blah, fucking blah!)…. meanwhile our little group met and did what we could for each other.

Out little Facebook page wandered along, picking up a member or two – we actually celebrated a few days ago as we had reach 250 members…

Then it happened again.  A well liked, active, dedicated young cop killed himself.

I have to say it.  Every time, every-fucking-time, it happens, I cry.

I retired 5 months ago, it’s not my problem, I don’t want to go on a crusade, I don’t want to fight ‘city hall’, I want a peaceful life in the country…..

But….  I cry, every-fucking-time the blue ribbon appears on the Facebook page, every time I hear the story when they ring me (again!) about another Cop who ‘topped’ themselves, I cry.

We lost Sharynne Grant such a short time ago.

We lost Ashley Meeks a few days ago.

I think PASA and SAPOL lost their humanity a lot longer ago.

And now it begins.

The media (the fucking Merchants of Misery) go into a frenzy, not to report on a tragedy but to get an angle that no one else has, so they can sell it and get ratings, page clicks or sell papers…..

SAPOL takes the company line and have a really important ‘Commissioner’s Enquiry’ for a few months, form a new project team to do another project, introduce a new support scheme…..

PASA blames low numbers, they blame SAPOL, they blame the government (but not to much) they have a new enquiry, fuck that we’ll have a national enquiry; beat that little State SAPOL, we have the Police Federation of Australia – hear that…. National Enquiry mate, fucking National..!!!

And they dance and they talk, and they promise, and recommend, and sell and sell and sell.  And they sell that they understand and they will fix it and they are on our side….

And they sell the message, the party line, the government policy, the non-committal heartfelt sentiments of our caring leader – and they sell and they sell ……

And when the dust settles and the sales are over, we look and realise, the only thing that has been sold, is us – we have been sold out!

And a few days ago the blue ribbon started to appear again.  I cried before I even knew who it was even before I logged in – not again, not fucking again!

So I sat at my little desk, to check how the 801 Facebook page was going – how my mates were going, and thought I better get a meeting together (as they had stopped a few months ago because there wasn’t enough of us to organise them…), I flicked on the screen, logged on and found that 2700 people had joined our site in 48 hours.

Yes, 2700 (2953 total membership at its peak to be exact).

I cried.  I was overwhelmed.  I learned of Ashley Meeks (who I did know) and I thought of him now dead, seeing his mates rally.

But the rally was one of pain, of fucking heartbreak and the sadness that hurts your heart like nothing else.

And I read the posts and I cried, most of the time.

Hundreds, no thousands, in the Police family were pouring their hearts out, disclosing horror, upon horror, upon horror – some people had to leave the site (and I get it – I would be gone if I didn’t run it and have a few backing me up!) because it hurt them too much, or reminded them to much, just reading the stories.

And there was anger, and sadness and the loudest rally cry I had heard in the Police for years….. a call from the heart, a call to stop this horror….

….But, within the rally cry I started to notice something else, not from the rallying members, but from somewhere else….

I started hearing in the background, the faintest sound of music….. and slowly, but surely, the music got louder, until, at exactly the right cue, the fucking bullshit dancers (some were even marienettes this time – a nice twist!) appeared….  and started dancing the same old fucking dance again….

And I cried.

I shut down my Facebook page, I turned off my phone, said “Fuck ’em” and hugged my wife, who said “I love you, are you going to be okay”  and I said “Yeah, it was never me I was worried about” and she said “Yeah, I know”.

So, I wrote this.  On my blog – for me, for Ash and Sharynne – because even though I only personally knew one of them…. I miss both of them so badly…

I have heard the call for being positive, for not slagging SAPOL or PASA or the GOVERNMENT, for working collaboratively, for sitting around in bean bags and singing kumbaya and talking about our feelings…..

… and all the time I hear the music and see the dancers dancing ….

I’m going to bed.  Hopefully I won’t dream.

Better No-one Left Behind

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I have been thinking about what can I do to raise the awareness of PTSD, stress, anxiety and depression (and a myriad of other psychological disorders) which are the result of policing.

Yes, the 801 Group is a great start – not only that, but I have met some really strong people as a result, through doing nothing other than stepping forward. They have inspired me to continue trying to make it better for those already suffering and hopefully prevent a few from suffering in the future.screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-11-54-44-am

(NB: The ‘801 Group’ is for police suffering from psychological injuries as a result of their duties and was founded about a year ago in Adelaide. Regular meetings are held and a private Facebook page exists with over 200 members – mates helping mates…)

But how?

I think one of the biggest problems is the problem that faces us all when we are trying to understand something that we have no experience of, other than observing, or what the media (The Merchants of Misery) tell us; that is, how can we possible understand what it feels like.

This is also one of the reasons the 801 Group works so well. As soon as you walk into the room at a meeting you realise that everyone there understands. You don’t screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-11-58-21-amreally have to say anything. You just know they know. A lot of this is in the eyes….

So how can a policing culture change, attitudes change, if it is impossible to understand what it feels like, what people are going through, unless you experience it yourself – and without being too dramatic, then it is probably too late.

I will try using an old analogy.

It’s like the feeling of riding a Harley; if I try to explain it to you, no explanation is possible; but once you have ridden a Harley, well, then no explanation is necessary.

screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-12-21-19-pmOf course this analogy can easily be dismissed by those who have no interest in motorbikes.  So, how about making it a little more personal, even a little bit too close to home.

I will try to explain to you what it feels like to have a parent die – your Mum or Dad. We all think about this as it is inevitable, we all think we are prepared… right up until it happens. Then we suddenly realise that at all those funerals we have been to, for our mates’ Mums and Dads, we really had no idea. My Dad died 25 years ago and I remember it like yesterday. My Mum only died a couple of years ago – I thought I was prepared after Dad’s passing. Wrong! It was the belief that I knew what it was like being shattered when Mum actually passed away – only then did I actually understand.

If you have had a parent die, you understand the above paragraph completely. If you haven’t, I am happy for you, but I am also completely aware, that no matter how much you tell me you understand what it feels like, I know you are wrong. You are not ‘wrong’ in a bad way, you are just wrong because until it happens to you, you really can’t fully understand.

This is just like me telling a parent who has lost a child that I know what it feels like. Sorry, but this is bullshit. I can never know unless it happens to me.
These are all pretty sad, even cruel, analogies to attempt to try to explain to someone what it is like to suffer from PTSD, stress, anxiety or depression resulting from police work. But, I think it goes a little towards actually explaining it – the ‘it’ being that you can’t explain ‘it’.

So I believe that it is not the understanding that is important, I have just noted that this is impossible, it is the knowledge and acceptance that you can’t understand that is important.

Only those who have suffered can understand.

Often in the Police we see horrific things happen to people – we attempt to empathise with them, help them, protect them or take action. But, do we ever really feel like that victim or that offender, until it is us.

Let’s talk about the offenders. How many in our policing careers have we arrested; or kicked their doors down, or put them on the ground in handcuffs, or refused their bail, and locked them up for months awaiting trial.

We take the above actions, go back and type up the file and then decide what we are going to have for dinner. Do we think about them every day, that guy or girl screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-12-29-12-pmsitting in a cell, away from their family, missing birthdays, Christmas, their kids, or Mum and Dad and possibly losing their job, friends, reputation? Of course we don’t! The next time we think of them is when we are called to do the court file, and mainly we are shitty that they didn’t plead guilty and save us all the paperwork. So we sit down and finish the file and send it off – then, again we decide what we are going to have for lunch. Do we think of them, the person, the father, mother, wife, husband, sitting in that cell, of course not. Why not? Because it is not us.

All this is the difficulty in our modern world… most of the time it is not us, we are glad it is not us, and if we turn our head just a little bit, we don’t even have to see it in our peripheral vision. It’s just not there, it’s just not something we have to consider in our daily lives of getting the kids to school, making ends meet and trying to live our normal life. Yeah, it is a great 5 second grab on the news, or a 7 minute story on Today Tonight, or a ‘shock horror’ moment on the front page of the paper, but then life goes on.

It is not us, and we are glad. It is not us, so how can we possibly understand what it feels like. We are still living our lives.

This IS the problem with the psychological injuries plaguing the Police, but, it is worse; why?

Because the Police are supposed to weather all storms of physical and psychological attack – they are tough men and women protecting the rest of us. It is their job, their duty and if they fail who do we turn to.

screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-12-53-37-pmSo, when the strongest, most resilient and bravest of us all fail, who do we turn to. The Police, the individual Police Officer, feels this every day. They feel it as they are in one of the few ‘jobs’ that require you to take an oath; an oath that says you will give it your all, you will, if required, give it your life.

So the Police, the strongest of us, must not fail, must not fall by the wayside physically or psychologically. I’m not saying that everyday the police who go out there are swearing new allegiance to the people, cheering in unison to fight for the downtrodden, putting on battle armour and raising battle standards… but, somewhere, deep inside each of them they know it is not a job, it is a duty, it is a sworn duty and they cannot fail.

Unfortunately in a war of attrition against crime, some are left behind. It is not the callous moving forward while our comrade lays wounded on the ground. It is not disregarding the old saying of ‘no man left behind’. It is the reality of not wanting to look at our mates failing, crumbling, crying, drinking, angry, afraid, lost, lonely… because, we may be next. It embarrasses them and it embarrasses us, we don’t know what to do, we don’t understand.screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-12-35-31-pm

And the next day they are not there, the boss is calling the roll, my stats are behind, that brief of evidence isn’t finished, there are new jobs waiting and a pile of old jobs unfinished. I think of them fleetingly, but I don’t understand and I don’t know what to do.

The radio screams for my attention, someone needs me who I am sworn to protect.

“Roger, I’m on my way…”

Better in the Line of Duty

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I started writing this post a couple of weeks ago and only got to the heading.  I was going to write about the difference between having a job and doing a ‘duty’.

The heading just sat there because I was unable to find the words which I thought were appropriate to explain the difference – especially considering I was going to mainly write about the Police.  The Police, in addition, for some time have been trying to gain status as a ‘profession’ – like lawyers! (Why?)   I do understand that the ‘big Police machine’ is now trying to run like a corporation, there is always a couple of things that I believe have been forgotten.  The Police is a job, a vocation, a career and a duty of SERVICE.  In addition those undertaking this duty of service have all sworn an OATH.  To a lot of people this oath may not seem much, but with it comes an obligation to serve and to do your duty.  I am pretty sure there are not too many jobs where people swear on the Bible, or the Koran or take the affirmation that they will serve and do their duty.  I know when I took the oath it was with my head and my heart.

These are all great words, often thrown about by the ‘Merchants of Misery’ (the Media) which in the end actually lose their meaning; I think Richie Benaud put his cricket commentary career into perspective about what words to use when he said “The Titanic was a tragedy, the Ethiopian drought a disaster, and neither bears any relation to a dropped catch.”

So often words are thrown about; words such a tragedy, hero, sacrifice, etc etc.

Screen Shot 2015-09-29 at 10.14.55So, I was wondering how I was going to explain the word ‘duty’.

Why is it that swearing an ‘oath’ and doing things ‘in the line of duty’ is so special.

Well, on 29th September 2015, the words came to me in a Facebook Post I wrote.  I got up in the morning knowing it was National Police Remembrance Day and was shocked that there was not one mention of it in the media – even today, the day has passed, unnoticed by most.  After I scanned the news I sat down and wrote a few words from my heart and posted it onto Facebook.  In the last 24 hours those few words have been shared and ‘Liked’ numerous times and comments have all been from those showing respect, sympathy, sadness, pride, thanks and unfortunately first hand knowledge.

So, I am sharing them here again, because this is my place, this is where my words often miss the filter of embarrassment, sadness, horror, ego and worrying about what others will think.  I am also sharing these words because I just can’t get them out of my head and that feeling out of my heart:

I sometimes think that my life is a bit hard, I have been treated unfairly or was not given the opportunities I always wanted….

 

I sometimes think that other people have it better than me….

 

I sometimes think about working too hard, paying too many bills, how traffic is shit, food is expensive, holidays seen to short, the news is always bad on TV, the bachelor picked the wrong girl and the lawn needs a mow….

 

I sometimes think about my mates in the Police who will never get to complain about these things again.

 

They will never get to whinge about the footy, have a beer with their mates, hug their wives or husbands and watch their kids grow up.

 

I sometimes think about them; I often think about them when we are talking about the ‘good jobs’, the ‘big jobs’, the ‘funny jobs’ and the stories that can go on all night and get bigger, better and funnier over the years.

 

I sometimes think about them because they died, or were killed or were murdered, doing their job. I sometimes think about the others, the ones that lost the battle with themselves and the things they had seen.

 

I sometimes hunt through old boxes of real photos and hundreds of files of digital photos, just to see their face one more time – in a different time.

 

If I say I sometimes think about them, I perhaps lied a little; I think about them often; I am proud to be counted in the job they were a part of; the family we were a part of – although often dysfunctional like any family – it is still a family!

 

I sometimes think about them, and I am sad, and proud, and feel their loss.

 

Today I posted on Facebook because it is National Police Remembrance Day, but tomorrow they will still not be here, I will miss them, I will look at their photos, I will remember their stories (because through those stories they live forever), I will think of their families, I will think of their communities; all of who were a little better because of their service.

 

Also, because tomorrow a bunch of men and women in blue, will go out and do it all again; without fear from the loss of their mates; now that’s brave; that’s what makes the Police.

 

RIP heroes.