On the phone, I could hear the excitement in Sarah's voice. "Wait'll you see what I've got!" she said. Sarah was Sarah Creamer. At the time, she and Dave Johnson were helping me hire folks for the Sheriff's Office. And it was hard, often unrewarding work.
We were trying to hire about 100 a year, Civilian and LEO's. The cops were particularly tough to find. I know that some of you out there, who've seen in the news media some of the stupid things cops can do, won't believe it but the requirements are so narrow and stringent that only about one of every hundred we talked to were selected.
It's the old Marine Corps rule of thumb, sorta like the Bell Curve. You can make every test available, give them physical and psychological evaluations, written exams, background investigations, and still, about 10%, when they come to work, will turn out to be turnips. Of course, the ol' Curve works on both ends. Ten-percent will be geniuses--nearly as troubling as turnips. But 80%, thank God, will be the regular, normal crowd that make every organization run.
Howsumever, Sarah's excitement got my blood up, too. She evidently had one of those rarest of the rare, an applicant, that on first sight you just knew was a keeper. And he was working, already certified, no academy required. "Bring 'em on back," I said and went to the office door to greet the prize.
He was moving down the hall in a measured step, a big youngin', clean-cut, warm smile, when he saw me waiting.
"Howdy," he said, shaking my hand in a vice grip. I ushered him in and pointed to a chair. He sat, and I started to begin my spiel. But he beat me to it.
"I expect your time's valuable," he said, "so I'll get right to it. Does your department require a physical agility test?"
"Yep," I said, "state law to get certified. Didn't you take one where you're working now." (It was up around Arcadia)
"I passed it once, but I'm not sure I could do it again."
"Why's that?" I asked, "you look healthy to me."
"I passed it before they cut my legs off."
I knew he was too good to be true, I thought. A wiseass. I'd seen him walk down the hall and there wasn't a hint of a limp.
"It's true," he said, reading my mind. "Got T-boned on duty. Had to take both my legs off, one at the knee, one above the ankle. To prove it, he lifted his trouser legs and showed me. And yep, there were two plastic things under there.
"But," I saw you walk in," I said, "not even a slight limp."
"Doctor's said I'd never walk again and it made me mad. I'm a stubborn guy and don't like to be told what I'm not capable of. So I went back to work on the desk, and practiced until I could walk normally and could work on the street again."
"But, you can't run?"
"Well," he said, "I can but it's not my best thing. Sometimes I loose my balance. I won't take up any more of your time he said," getting up.
I walked him out to the front lobby and told him I was sorry it didn't work out. And I was.
He eschewed the elevator and walked down the two-story staircase to the front door. Nary a wobble.
Standing there watching him march away, I had to wonder what things we all could do if someone hadn't told us they were impossible.
Howsumever, Sarah's excitement got my blood up, too. She evidently had one of those rarest of the rare, an applicant, that on first sight you just knew was a keeper. And he was working, already certified, no academy required. "Bring 'em on back," I said and went to the office door to greet the prize.
He was moving down the hall in a measured step, a big youngin', clean-cut, warm smile, when he saw me waiting.
"Howdy," he said, shaking my hand in a vice grip. I ushered him in and pointed to a chair. He sat, and I started to begin my spiel. But he beat me to it.
"I expect your time's valuable," he said, "so I'll get right to it. Does your department require a physical agility test?"
"Yep," I said, "state law to get certified. Didn't you take one where you're working now." (It was up around Arcadia)
"I passed it once, but I'm not sure I could do it again."
"Why's that?" I asked, "you look healthy to me."
"I passed it before they cut my legs off."
I knew he was too good to be true, I thought. A wiseass. I'd seen him walk down the hall and there wasn't a hint of a limp.
"It's true," he said, reading my mind. "Got T-boned on duty. Had to take both my legs off, one at the knee, one above the ankle. To prove it, he lifted his trouser legs and showed me. And yep, there were two plastic things under there.
"But," I saw you walk in," I said, "not even a slight limp."
"Doctor's said I'd never walk again and it made me mad. I'm a stubborn guy and don't like to be told what I'm not capable of. So I went back to work on the desk, and practiced until I could walk normally and could work on the street again."
"But, you can't run?"
"Well," he said, "I can but it's not my best thing. Sometimes I loose my balance. I won't take up any more of your time he said," getting up.
I walked him out to the front lobby and told him I was sorry it didn't work out. And I was.
He eschewed the elevator and walked down the two-story staircase to the front door. Nary a wobble.
Standing there watching him march away, I had to wonder what things we all could do if someone hadn't told us they were impossible.
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