by Kevin W. Smith
(c)2000, Kevin W. Smith
All rights reserved.
The police officer was young, but not a rookie. He had
been a cop for about five years. He was daily involved in
things that most Americans think of as exciting, as proved
by their voracious appetite for all those "real police"
television shows. You would think he would consider his
life interesting and exciting, but he didn't. He was
becoming bored with his job as a cop.
We had worked together several years ago when he was
still a rookie. I considered him to be a very able and
professional police officer. But I knew that the day
would come when he would go through "burn out". It is
normal for burn out to happen to cops at about the
fifth year of service. If they get through that, it will
usually revisit them in the seventh year.
So, sitting in the cafe and sipping coffee, he had
been asking me about all the places I had been and the
international missions I had worked. We talked about my
missions in Bosnia, Kosovo, Macedonia, Albania, and
Kosovo again. We talked about my travels in Croatia,
Serbia, Romania, Spain, Austria, and a few other places.
As would be expected with a young cop, he was rather
excited by the stories of living and working in places
where there were millions of land mines and where the
nights were punctuated by machine gunfire and grenades.
I noticed by the sparkle in his eyes that it all seemed
thrilling and interesting to him. And my mind began to
wander and to compare my life with his.
I thought about my first day as a cop, assigned to
work in the jail. I remembered how anxious I was to get
transferred to patrol and how excited I was when the
transfer finally came through. I remembered how, after
years in patrol, I became anxious to transfer to
investigation. I remembered how thrilled I was when I
finally got the chance to go to investigations. On and
on, I remembered how each stage of my career was the
most thrilling stage ever--for a while. Then I would
become bored with it and desire something new, something
a little more challenging.
As he talked, my mind continued comparing and think-
ing. I thought about how much I had wanted to move from
local law enforcement to international law enforcement,
and how excited I was when I was selected for my first
international mission. Country after country, and
assignment after assignment, I had gone through the same
process: anxious to be selected, excited about being
selected, bored with the mission, and anxious for the
next mission. The cycle never ends.
He snapped me back into reality when he said, "You
know, Kevin, I'd give my right arm to get to do all the
things you have done. Man! You have a thrilling life!"
"Keep your right arm," I said, "and listen to me
for a moment. Every place is someplace. Dirt is
dirt in every country. Crime is crime in every place.
Nothing is different at the bottom line. It is all
the same."
He looked a little surprised. I guess he had
thought I would share his sense of excitement about my
life and work.
"Look," I said, "I have nothing more to be proud
of than you have. You are a cop and I am a cop. We
just happen to work in different places. When it is all
said and done, the work is the same everywhere you go."
The price of living such a "thrilling" life, as
he seemed to think I have, is very high. Living for a
long period of time out of the country takes its toll on
you. Working in war zones raises the price even more.
Maybe my life was thrilling to him, but "thrilling"
has a completely different meaning to me. For me,
being able to take a hot bath is thrilling because I
have not always had water. Or if I have water, I do not
always have electricity for heating it. That is another
thrilling thing--electricity. I have spent night after
night in the middle of Balkan blizzards without heat.
He might think that's thrilling, but a warm room for
a good night's sleep is thrilling to me.
For me, thrilling means not having to think that bombs,
grenades, and gunfire in the night are normal. Thrilling
means stores like Walmart and Kmart--I've lived where the
only food in the stores for long periods of time was
cabbage and potatoes. Don't misunderstand. I'm not
complaining about cabbage and potatoes. I'm glad to get
them, but it is thrilling when someone comes from the
States and brings a bottle of Tabasco sauce for the
cabbage.
I remember how thrilled I was in Brcko (Republika
Srpska) when we finally got running water. Never mind the
fact that it was brown. It was water! And you can't
imagine how thrilled I was when I wandered across the border
into Croatia and found avocados in a store. I had not
even seen one for a year! Now, that was thrilling!
For me, thrilling means having a life that many
Americans view as boring. Living and working in war zones
had made this young cop's "boring life" look very thrilling
to me.
I guess it is human nature to get bored with whatever
becomes usual to us. However, I think when I finally get to
return to America for good, it will be thrilling. I do not
believe I can ever be bored again so long as I can take a
hot bath, sleep in a warm room on a cold winter night, and
eat avocados anytime I want. Now, that will be thrilling!
I must close this little article. The electricity has
just gone off again and I don't want to run down the battery
in my computer. I may need it later for something more
thrilling.
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About the Author:
Kevin W. Smith is the producer and host of a daily talk
show called The Kevin Smith Show. He is also a writer
and publisher of The-KFILES, and an avid public speaker.
He has lived, worked, and traveled in many countries of
the world, and now lives in Kosovo where he works as an
international police officer.
E-Mail: publisher@...
Web Site: http://ksshow.com