I hate hats.
When you wear a military or quasi-military uniform, there's always a hat. A pesky, sweat inducing, hair mussing, hat. Granted, they serve their purposes.
They kept the rain off my head.
They kept the sun from frying my brain, but in 100 deg. heat, they only served to ignite a furnace on my scalp.
The things I did to that hat. You could say I had a reckless disregard for that hat.
I once had to get a new hat. While I was on vacation, I left my hat sitting in a chair with some other police equipment for a few days.
My cat sat on my hat. More than once.
We had a new police chief who came from another large, metropolitan police department in the southeast. He was big on hats. In fact, he considered us out of uniform unless we were wearing that hat the minute we got out of the car. Most of us kept that hat jammed up against the cage or tossed carelessly in the trunk. Generally, we just kept it only for our dress uniform or other special occasion situations.
Getting out of the car and reaching for your hat, seemed kind of down on the list of priorities when we needed a flashlight or PR-24 first. (Unlike now, those big bulky things did not retract and fit on your utility belt. We generally shoved them in the door handles or some chose behind the head rest. The headrest proved dangerous and awkward.)
We were also angry that our department did not see fit to assist or provide us with any kind of funding towards body armor. An average vest was several hundred dollars and if we wanted one, we were required to purchase it ourselves. That was something we bitched about to our new Chief, but he was more interested in hats.
The Chief went on this tangent about ensuring uniform officers were always wearing their hats. We had to bring the thing with us in to squad meetings or roll call. Sgts. and Lts. were required to duly note whenever an officer was out of uniform and punish those appropriately for violating said uniform regulations. There was no written set of standards or directives yet when it came to doling out these "punishments." Supervisors were initially pleading with us to cooperate, but then they started devising ingenious ways of reminding us what they have to do to satisfy their bosses. If they had to wear their damn hat, so did we.
One particular occasion, I was running a bit late for roll call and flew in only minutes before the briefing was to begin. I saw hats. Shit! Mine was in the car. I didn't have time to fly downstairs and to the other side of the parking lot and retrieve it. I would have to suck it up. Heck, maybe he wouldn't notice.
The Sgt. had us line up. Oh crap. I wasn't in the mood to hear it, but I'll just suck it up like the good little officer that I was.
The Sgt. says; "Where's your hat, Officer ____?"
In my car, sir.
"Why?"
I forgot it, sir.
"You forgot it?"
Yes sir. I forgot it.
"For that, we will find you a special assignment to ensure that you don't do that again."
Yes, sir.
The briefing carries on and before dismissing everyone with the standard, "Be careful out there," the Sgt. makes it a point to tell everyone what my special assignment is for the evening.
I shall be walking a beat in the most crime infested area of town. I shall be doing this solo. So Officer Brown will give you a ride over to this area and leave you there until further notice. You have a walkie and you will check in with dispatch at least every 30 minutes.
Everyone is snorting, chuckling, snickering and one even felt sorry for me. {Sarcastically, of course}
Fortunately, the weather wasn't too bad and I was on the evening shift so there was still a few hours of daylight. I got my stupid hat and whatever else that would fit in my pockets and was dropped off by Officer Brown. He told me not to worry about it, the Sarge was just in a foul mood and it would blow over in a couple of hours. Eh. I took it in stride. It happens when you're the one with the least seniority.
I wasn't really all that concerned, even if the projects were a block down the street and this area was notorious for drug deals, prostitution, shoplifters, etc. I saw a couple of potential places to keep a low profile.
Needless to say, I was never alone for long. They brought me soda and coffee, would have me sit in their car, grabbing some AC. It was about 2 hours in to my little punishment when we heard the Lt. on the radio say something to Officer Brown about breaking up that little party we had going on and letting {my radio call #} do their job as they were directed. Brown says "yes, sir" and pulls out. I walk my happy little beat on my not so happy big feet. Obviously, the Lt. was monitoring my progress as well.
After about 4 hours, the Lt. directed Officer Brown to pick me up and bring me to HQ and get a car. I was to resume normal radio dispatch patrol. Whoooppee!
At the end of the watch, the Sarge asks me if I learned anything.
I replied that I had.
"And what was it that you learned, Officer _____?"
That I need new shoes. Could I have a requisition form?
"Get the hell out of here and bring your damn hat tomorrow!"
The hat regulation continued and I was having some issues with what I thought was dandruff. I was using all those over the counter shampoos to try and stop the itching and flaking, to no avail. It was constantly embarrassing when you're wearing dark blues. I was forever brushing the stuff off my shoulders.
I sought treatment from a dermatologist. He gave me some nasty prescription medicated shampoo and creams to put on my scalp. In the meantime, don't wear any hats until this clears up. Ummm.....
So I got a Doctor's excuse. The first person ever, in the history of the department, to get a Doctor's excuse for not wearing a hat. Seems I set a precedent.
I also got the impression the Chief didn't believe it. He approached me in the hall one day and asked how my scalp was. (Gees, is there anyone in the whole department that doesn't know?) All I could say is that it's starting to clear up and not itching as much anymore. About all he could do was say, "good to hear" and pat me on the back.
For what seemed like an eternity, I heard more wise cracks, smart ass comments and even some suggestions on what I could do with my scalp problem. In fact, some wanted to know how to get it so they didn't have to wear their hats. Unfortunately, it's genetic. Eventually, the hat situation died down and the body armor cause came to the forefront - as it should have been.
And yes, when I became an FTO, I made sure the rookies always had their hats at roll call and squad briefings.
When you wear a military or quasi-military uniform, there's always a hat. A pesky, sweat inducing, hair mussing, hat. Granted, they serve their purposes.
They kept the sun from frying my brain, but in 100 deg. heat, they only served to ignite a furnace on my scalp.
The things I did to that hat. You could say I had a reckless disregard for that hat.
I once had to get a new hat. While I was on vacation, I left my hat sitting in a chair with some other police equipment for a few days.
My cat sat on my hat. More than once.
We had a new police chief who came from another large, metropolitan police department in the southeast. He was big on hats. In fact, he considered us out of uniform unless we were wearing that hat the minute we got out of the car. Most of us kept that hat jammed up against the cage or tossed carelessly in the trunk. Generally, we just kept it only for our dress uniform or other special occasion situations.
Getting out of the car and reaching for your hat, seemed kind of down on the list of priorities when we needed a flashlight or PR-24 first. (Unlike now, those big bulky things did not retract and fit on your utility belt. We generally shoved them in the door handles or some chose behind the head rest. The headrest proved dangerous and awkward.)
We were also angry that our department did not see fit to assist or provide us with any kind of funding towards body armor. An average vest was several hundred dollars and if we wanted one, we were required to purchase it ourselves. That was something we bitched about to our new Chief, but he was more interested in hats.
The Chief went on this tangent about ensuring uniform officers were always wearing their hats. We had to bring the thing with us in to squad meetings or roll call. Sgts. and Lts. were required to duly note whenever an officer was out of uniform and punish those appropriately for violating said uniform regulations. There was no written set of standards or directives yet when it came to doling out these "punishments." Supervisors were initially pleading with us to cooperate, but then they started devising ingenious ways of reminding us what they have to do to satisfy their bosses. If they had to wear their damn hat, so did we.
One particular occasion, I was running a bit late for roll call and flew in only minutes before the briefing was to begin. I saw hats. Shit! Mine was in the car. I didn't have time to fly downstairs and to the other side of the parking lot and retrieve it. I would have to suck it up. Heck, maybe he wouldn't notice.
The Sgt. had us line up. Oh crap. I wasn't in the mood to hear it, but I'll just suck it up like the good little officer that I was.
The Sgt. says; "Where's your hat, Officer ____?"
In my car, sir.
"Why?"
I forgot it, sir.
"You forgot it?"
Yes sir. I forgot it.
"For that, we will find you a special assignment to ensure that you don't do that again."
Yes, sir.
The briefing carries on and before dismissing everyone with the standard, "Be careful out there," the Sgt. makes it a point to tell everyone what my special assignment is for the evening.
I shall be walking a beat in the most crime infested area of town. I shall be doing this solo. So Officer Brown will give you a ride over to this area and leave you there until further notice. You have a walkie and you will check in with dispatch at least every 30 minutes.
Everyone is snorting, chuckling, snickering and one even felt sorry for me. {Sarcastically, of course}
Fortunately, the weather wasn't too bad and I was on the evening shift so there was still a few hours of daylight. I got my stupid hat and whatever else that would fit in my pockets and was dropped off by Officer Brown. He told me not to worry about it, the Sarge was just in a foul mood and it would blow over in a couple of hours. Eh. I took it in stride. It happens when you're the one with the least seniority.
I wasn't really all that concerned, even if the projects were a block down the street and this area was notorious for drug deals, prostitution, shoplifters, etc. I saw a couple of potential places to keep a low profile.
Needless to say, I was never alone for long. They brought me soda and coffee, would have me sit in their car, grabbing some AC. It was about 2 hours in to my little punishment when we heard the Lt. on the radio say something to Officer Brown about breaking up that little party we had going on and letting {my radio call #} do their job as they were directed. Brown says "yes, sir" and pulls out. I walk my happy little beat on my not so happy big feet. Obviously, the Lt. was monitoring my progress as well.
After about 4 hours, the Lt. directed Officer Brown to pick me up and bring me to HQ and get a car. I was to resume normal radio dispatch patrol. Whoooppee!
At the end of the watch, the Sarge asks me if I learned anything.
I replied that I had.
"And what was it that you learned, Officer _____?"
That I need new shoes. Could I have a requisition form?
"Get the hell out of here and bring your damn hat tomorrow!"
The hat regulation continued and I was having some issues with what I thought was dandruff. I was using all those over the counter shampoos to try and stop the itching and flaking, to no avail. It was constantly embarrassing when you're wearing dark blues. I was forever brushing the stuff off my shoulders.
I sought treatment from a dermatologist. He gave me some nasty prescription medicated shampoo and creams to put on my scalp. In the meantime, don't wear any hats until this clears up. Ummm.....
So I got a Doctor's excuse. The first person ever, in the history of the department, to get a Doctor's excuse for not wearing a hat. Seems I set a precedent.
I also got the impression the Chief didn't believe it. He approached me in the hall one day and asked how my scalp was. (Gees, is there anyone in the whole department that doesn't know?) All I could say is that it's starting to clear up and not itching as much anymore. About all he could do was say, "good to hear" and pat me on the back.
For what seemed like an eternity, I heard more wise cracks, smart ass comments and even some suggestions on what I could do with my scalp problem. In fact, some wanted to know how to get it so they didn't have to wear their hats. Unfortunately, it's genetic. Eventually, the hat situation died down and the body armor cause came to the forefront - as it should have been.
And yes, when I became an FTO, I made sure the rookies always had their hats at roll call and squad briefings.
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