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Rescue Chickens

The Kindness of Strangers

Does my arse look fat in this soul?

The demon of paranoia re-visits old Sket

On The Road......

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2006-10-17 - 6:00 p.m.

Yesterday was pretty good at work. We spent the day learning how not to get murdered.

The job I have now will involve me working with high risk offenders at the office, in prison, at Court and in their homes. The session was the first of 2 and was presented by a guy working in conjunction with the Susie Lamplugh Trust. For those of you who don't know, Susie was an Estate Agent who disappeared after showing a bogus client around an empty house and her mother started a charity to campaign, advise and assist lone/vulnerable workers.

Anyhoo, I now know how to spot someone about to kick off and the best methods to try to difuse the situation and how to best make my escape in a dangerous situation. I always believed I was pretty clued up on body language but I learned a lot more, especially how someone about to act with extreme violence becomes prior to an attack; from the way their eyes change, the palor of their skin all the way through to the way they speak. Like I say, it was a very interesting day and highly useful for my new role.

Of course, this is ME I'm writing about and it only made my internal tantrum with myself even worse. I wanted THE INTENDED JOB, not this fucker! It's something that's growing inside me more and more. I don't want to sit on my arse all day interviewing, typing and being an office based wanker. I want to be out there in the action trying not to get my head kicked in on a daily basis. I want to be first on the scene and in on all the interesting and funny stuff that goes on within our communities. I want to break into houses and find dead bodies, I want to reassure old ladies that they aren't going to be kidnapped and sold into the white slave trade, I want to bugger up bad people's days/lives by stopping them or just fucking up their latest scam. I wanna get into the middle of fights (without getting stabbed/shot/poked with sticks or whatever), I want to be there, in the action, first with the news and meeting weirdos. I just want it so bad.

Phoe thinks I should be grateful I've got a bloody good job and that once I've qualified I'll be on really good money. She says that this opportunity is an excellent one and uses my degree perfectly. She says i shouldn't have applied for it if I didn't want it.

Of course, she's perfectly correct.

....I just felt that I had to apply for the major careers which WOULD enable me to use my degree. I had a preference and that was THE INTENDED JOB which was so within my grasp. So fucking close (shit Sket, are you getting weepy? Yup, you certainly are) I could taste it. Then, as regular readers will know, despite passing every fucking damn thing I failed the medical. The reasons I failed it aren't totally unfixable. This is what I'm thinking. This is the thought that I am haunted by every damn minute of the day; through my induction training, my 'how not to get murdered' training, during my commute and of an evening when I'm relaxing. It'll take time. It'll take a lot of time but it can be done. I've just got to start working on my fitness levels again so's I can get through the nightmare that was the bleep test again.

I'm not going to tell anyone real (I mean, outside of the virtual world of the internet and associated friends). Phoe kinda knows as we had THE talk where she became very frustrated with me. I'm not telling my mom or Nigel. I haven't heard from him in weeks any way. I wish he was still on the Island, he MADE me run and he pushed me until I was up to the standard of fitness. I don't know if I can do it alone. I'm going to have to try aren't I?

Shit, just writing this down has kinda scared me. I was issued with my company laptop today and I'm so angry that this is the job I got that I want to kick the thing around the living room.

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