Who would want to do the job?
Yeah, you’re fighting crime and helping victims,
it’s just sometimes it feels the other way around.
The job is being spat on by the people you’re arresting,
and sometimes the people you’re helping.
Turning on when no one else will.
Being left holding the baby,
although casualty or inmate.
The job is being slaughtered in the media for the mistakes of a few of us among a few hundred thousand.
Being attacked for being too proactive, and not enough.
You’re supposed to leave the job in the locker, yeah right.
It becomes how you see the world.
Their job. That cars job. North face, jeans, and boots he’s definitely job.
It can be action and adrenaline.
It’s 2% excitement, 98% routine.
But if no one did this job, no one could do the job.
It’s too much paperwork, too much no realistic prospect of conviction, and too much being called out because someone won’t share the TV remote.
The job is why you missed your kids school events, or your soon to be ex’s birthday.
It’s the world no on else knows, the sights no one sees.
The job is having thick skin, with a bullet proof vest over top.
Suspecting anyone you meet, and trusting everyone you work with.
The job is for some, what you live for,
and for a few hundred officers last year, what they died for.Â
The job is going to war with the gangs, thugs, and thieves and that feels good.
The job is being a victims relief when you arrive.
It’s stopping things from happening and because they don’t happen nobody knows how bad it would have been.
And despite all the danger, and the distrust,
And despite all you have to see, and do, and do without,
And those who do it wouldn't wanna do any other job.
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