Every cop, EMT and convenience store clerk can write a book and the title would be the same. “You Can’t Make This Sh*t Up!” My buddy Guy and I said this to each other a hundred times when I used to hang out at the counter of his convenience store and deli while I was on shift. He would tell me stories of dumb things people said and did in the store and I would tell him the dumb things people said and did (including me) on the street. I would leave the names out, but sometimes he didn’t. It turned out we often dealt with the same people. I spent a number of hours at the counter talking not only with Guy, but also the other employees, and customers as they came and went. On more than one occasion I drank my whole coffee standing there.
One of my favorites from Guy was the time, two days before Thanksgiving, when his curiosity got the better of him. The line at the register ran all the way through the store and wrapped around in the liquor section, a common occurrence before major holidays. As one man struggled to set the precariously balanced double armload of liquor bottles he had been clutching to his chest for the last 10 minutes onto the counter without dropping any, Guy paused and looked at him. The customer was pasty white and sweating, disheveled and harried as he straightened and balanced vodka, whiskey, Bailey’s, rum and several other bottles on the counter. When he got everything settled and straightened up, Guy looked at him and said, “I just gotta ask, how much alcohol does it take to get along with your family?” The man looked at him briefly, then looked down and mumbled, “Shut up.”
Guy was an advocate for giving kids a chance. Many of the store’s employees over the years were teenagers that were a little lost, had gotten a little wayward, or who didn’t have good role models. He would help them learn what hard work and dedication were, and how to treat others, and be treated by others, with respect. A number of our times he would mention this one or that one, ask for suggestions or for me to keep an eye out for them, just in case. There are a number of kids that turned into healthy adults because he had a hand in guiding them. Truth be told, I probably didn’t have to deal with some of those kids as a police officer because he dealt with them at the store.
Guy is an example of many people I stayed connected to while I was a police officer. I did the same thing when I was at Saint Michael’s College. Rosemary was known and loved by students and employees alike. She usually had something sassy to say as she swiped your card at the dining hall, but she also checked-in with students when they came through and would offer a kind word, something to brighten your day, or maybe a nod towards someone that could use a little extra attention.
There is an old story that floats around the internet. I first heard it attributed the Jamie Dimond, the CEO of Chase Bank, telling how he took a class on human resources during his MBA program and was surprised when the final exam had only one question, “What is the name of the custodial employee that cleans this floor and classroom?”
Whether the story involves the now famous CEO or not, the lesson is still valid. We need to see each person we deal with for the person they are. We can’t just pay attention to the people we think can help us out or hook us up. It’s not about the position they hold or their perceived value or importance in the hierarchy. When people are in our circle and in our space, we need to see them. We should know their name.
I connected with employees at multiple convenience stores, teachers, first responders, retail store owners and many others. It was never about whether someone could help me, or if I could help them. What mattered was I was part of the community and we were on the same team. Some of those folks needed the police at some point, some of them offered support for the police at other points. What I do know was every time I walked into that store Guy, and the rest of the crew, were friendly and helpful, and felt comfortable and safe with me there.
So far, Guy and I have not fulfilled our promise to each other to get together to write that book. I don’t know if we’ll get to it, but I do know that we would laugh like hell if we did. The stories we have to share are, well, a bunch of them at least, are ridiculously funny. Either way though, it was great to be connected to the community and people like Guy and Rosemary, and so many others, and to know we were all on the same team.
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