Bags

As most of my readers already realize, my training job was eliminated at EVOC (our Emergency Vehicle Operations Course) due to budgetary cuts. My department has, due to fiscal mismanagement, taken the brunt of monetary hits in terms of law enforcement departments in the entire state of Fornicalia. In a department formerly consisting of 2,000+ officers, we were tasked with making up 40% of our county's deficit. Wholly unfair and egregious.

As a result, my department laid off 400 On-Call deputies and 200 full time deputies, effective tomorrow (as I write this), Saturday, August 1st.

Today I got a glimpse of what my department really thinks of its employees. And I was resoundingly disgusted on many levels.

I watched as, earlier, one opposite shift Sergeant "processed" his own laid-off troops out and was continually asking: "Did you leave your keys? What's your radio serial number?"

And that was it. Leave your stuff. Get the hell out.

I was embarrassed, pissed, even shocked to a degree.

Until I realized: that Sergeant was himself getting demoted, effective Saturday, to a line-level deputy.

I've been working with two Lieutenants who are getting demoted and three Sergeants who are getting demoted.

My final hours today, Friday (as I write this) were devoted to collecting equipment from laid-off deputies whose true final day was today and had clearly expressed that they were calling in sick on their "real" final day, Saturday.

There were bags already prepared for me by administration staff. These bags had a piece of paper stapled to the outside where I was to collect very specific pieces of their issued equipment.
I took the time to talk to each and every one -- though they didn't know me, I was the "new Sergeant on deck." And I processed their equipment, placed it into these bags, then helped them with their own personal bags as they cleaned out their lockers and hauled things to their cars.

No one else helped. None of the other Sergeants. None of the other Lieutenants. They were too busy taking each other to lunch.

And with each one I shook their hand and said, "On behalf of this department I would like to officially apologize for treating you in this fashion -- and I would like to thank you for your service to this facility and to the people of this county. They have no idea what sacrifices you have made."

Some were stalwart and resolute; they wore fixed glazes and simply stalked off. Some started to cry. Some wanted to talk to me about their brief careers. It took everything I had to not tear up and break my mien. But I believed it was my responsibility, my duty, to not only apologize for their despicable treatment but to commend them for their devotion and service.

I've just helped to kill my department's finest generational future.

It turns my stomach, it makes me sick, to think that so many of my peers have turned these hopeful and wonderful kids into nothing more than PIN numbers and big grocery bags.

Their bags line the admin office walls.

This was one of the most depressing days of my life this year.

BZ