Good Cop, Bad Cop
I was half-way through a day shift on a Wednesday morning, as I sat at a computer in the muster room, typing out a report on a minor arrest I had made the day before. I heard footsteps on the carpet behind me, and I looked up to see the shift supervisor, Sergeant Morrow, standing there with a clipboard in his hand. Morrow was one of those big, rugged, old-style cops that you just don’t see any more, and he said, “I’ve got a little job for you, Mark.” “What’s that?” I said, sitting back from the keyboard, to show him he had my full attention. “Your shifts have been changed this week,” he started, looking up from his clipboard, “Sorry about the short notice, but I think you’ll like this.” He smiled, like he …