December 10
Pulled another swing/grave double yesterday; it went great, with the time passing about as fast as you can expect 16 hours at work to pass.
Field Training Officer (FTO) Terry and I were on each other from the start. Terry was my training officer when I started here. He is one hell of an officer and a very good instructor and he laid a great foundation for my time here.
The crap started in briefing when we both muttered under our breaths that MCSD sure is scraping the bottom of the barrel if they’re letting the other perform security functions and went from there.
They’re breaking some new ground on swing shift. For example, unless you’re assigned an area that must be manned, like the podium or fills, you are assigned to Rove. You might just be assigned Rove, or you may be assigned to rove the east end or the west end, but you are no longer assigned a numerical area, like three or seven.
Also, you no longer get two 10-10’s on swing shift, they are now giving everyone one 20 minute break, called 483. Some were whining about it, simply because we’ll whine about anything, but I kinda liked it. I had 482 at 1700 and 483 came at 2145 and I was able to sit in the EDR and enjoy a cup of coffee at leisure.
This led to some hilarity because my 483 caused me to be a few minutes late relieving FTO Terry at the podium.
“You know,” he said in a tone that indicated I was still a trainee. “Here on swing shift, we relieve the podium between five and ten minutes to the hour.” To emphasize this FTO Terry help up five fingers, which was also rather funny. “Not ten minutes after the hour. This isn’t that graveyard shit where you just do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, smiling. “I was sent on 483. They knew I was relieving you and would need the strength to clean up the mess you always leave.”
Earlier Terry had run into me near the craps pits.
“Go take a look at that woman over there,” he said, pointing to a slot area near the cage. “That is if you’re interested in women. I don’t know that you are. Are you?”
Terry still has more than a faint trace of his hick Arkansas drawl and it was pretty funny.
“Your woman seemed pretty interested in me last night.”
Terry didn’t particularly like that, but he knew he had it coming.
“Just go take a look.”
I go and there’s this woman with a butch haircut who looks like John Madden. There are also two hookers loitering nearby and I ID them on the pretense they appear to be younger than the 21 years of age mandated by the state of Nevada for being on a casino floor. They decline my offer to produce their ID and I move them out.
Since I was on the podium the final hour I wasn’t relieved by Michaels till a little after 2300, so I was pretty late getting out to perform my duties as Mary 2. I had to go down and get my gloves and watch cap and check out a jacket from wardrobe and I needed to use the can as well so it was a quarter after or so when I got to the Mary 2 vehicle. Jeffrey, Baker 2, was waiting for me so I could give him a ride to the bike cage, which is located on the ground floor of the parking garage, so he could collect his bike.
And I actually didn’t get out on patrol till almost midnight. Jeffrey wanted to discuss our impending qualification and when I mentioned I hadn’t fired in over 20 years, he proceeded to give a clinic. He talked about the importance of sights, your grip and your trigger pull. Jeffrey has significant experience in this matter and knows what he’s talking about, but since he was holding a pen instead of a gun, it was hard to get the full effect.
I don’t really care if I’m armed or not. I am not Dirty Harry; I am a security officer at a nice Las Vegas Strip hotel and I have yet to encounter a situation where I wished I had a weapon.
Here is your Henry lineup for tonight:
Henry 1 – OMP
Henry 2 – moi
Henry 3 – Schempp
Henry 4 – X-Ray
Schempp is pulling some OT on his night off. It’s hard to know what to expect. Sometimes Schempp is good company. He is funny and intelligent but sometimes he whines like a four-year-old and I am not a whiner and do not like listening to whining.