I have talked about my uniform fetish in an earlier blogs entitled ‘A call out’. I can’t help but raise it again.
I am often fascinated by people in uniform. They are so perfectly groomed. Shoes shiny, shirts tucked in. Hair in place. In my mind there is an air of mystery around somebody in uniform.
You just can’t tell what type of person is under the cloth. Are they kind, approachable, funny, strict, creative?
Are they as clean cut as their uniform suggests? If I visited them at home, would I enter a home so pristine and in such order that even I the germaphobiac would think the sterile environment was a bit suss?
I always want to crack and unravel the mystique.
Police officers fascinate me largely because these law enforcers require a combination I think of humor, empathy, strength, bravery and importantly intellectual and emotional maturity.
Requirements that I think are missing from the list of essentials on a police officer’s job description.
By way of testing my theory – I approach as many police officers as possible with questions (real questions that require an answer, I am not a law enforcer time distract-er). I have done this in each and every country I have lived in and traveled to.
To date, police officers in the UK are winning Mummyfried’s 'Police Officer Capability' tally. They consistently and constantly amaze me with their patience, empathy humor, and approach-ability, bravery (they don’t carry guns and go up against armed bandits constantly).
I often think that police officers in Australia and in the US should spend a minimum of three months in countries like the UK to deal with diversity at its peak.
This one incident however has put the Greek officers in serious running for the winning country.
We were in a traffic jam during peak hour and we were fast approaching dinner time. There was little way of getting out. We were in a taxi. Mr Lucky and I were mentally willing the meter to slow down.
Going the opposite way but nearly parallel to us was a police van. It too was stuck in traffic. Little Miss was about to kick off and have an absolute meltdown. We must have looked terrified.
For the next half hour the officers pulled faces, played games, turned the sirens on and off and eventually got out of the van and gave Little Miss a lolly.
The meter didn't stop. The tantrum was averted. We drove out of that jam with a smiley Little Miss, the police officers got a genuine thank you, the taxi driver a hefty fare without a headache and Mr Lucky and I sighed with relief.
Image courtesy of vectorolie at FreeDigitalPhotos.net