Checking 3622

 

I was in a meeting at church the other day and the topic turned to the advent of the computer age.  We take for granted that our cellphones have many built-in conveniences to include a fully operational computer with more capabilities than the computers used to place a man on the moon.

(Image of Touch Tone Telephone courtesy of Bing)

Back when I was a young police officer in Houston working the street, if we wanted to have a detailed background check on a suspect, we’d ask the dispatcher to check 3622, for us.  If we were at the station, we’d simply dial 3622, that being the last four numbers of the phone number for the folks who had the only computer hooked up to the national system. 

It might be hard to comprehend how different access to the computer room was in that period.  The room was basically a high security vault and only rare few individuals were permitted to enter that room. 

‘Old Head’ police officers knew two numbers, 3622 and 3611, to check for outstanding warrants.  The newer crop of officers might not have heard of the antiquated means of accomplishing this task since every police car has its own computer tied into the national system. 

That part of the history lesson leads to the next part of the story. 

It was somewhere in the mid-70s when I had to work light duty due to an injury.  They put me behind a desk doing menial paperwork.  The Department was in the process of installing computer terminals in most every office, a decided break from having to contact 3622 for such tasks.

My first day working light duty was the same day the computer terminal was installed at the desk where I was to work.  The fellow invited me to become acquainted with all the features and explained, “Don’t worry about damaging anything, just have fun figuring what it can do”.

Wow!  This was neat, getting to have hands-on experience with new technology.  (I can hear the younger generation giggling since they grew up in a different era.)

I set about pushing the keys that ran across the top row and found there was an application built in for creating letters up the chain of command, something I’d become familiar with much more than I would have liked. 

Most officers, when they needed to explain an incident which might lead to disciplinary action, wrote out their thoughts on a yellow legal pad. That information was then handed to the division’s secretary who’d type it out, the officer would then sign that letter and submit the finished version up the chain of command.

With the word processing function available to officers, they could, if so inclined, write and edit their letter until it best matched the desired way it would be received as it went up the chain of command. 

Curiosity took my attention to the last key along the top row of buttons to push.  It was a large Red Button.  Offhand I couldn’t say if it had anything to indicate its function. The invitation offered by the technician came to mind, “Don’t worry about damaging anything, just have fun figuring what it can do”.

(Image courtesy of istockphoto dot com)        

It might have been two, perhaps three minutes before two technicians came hurriedly toward me, a panicked look on their faces indicated the building was about to explode. I’m guessing they came via the stairwell rather than having to wait on the elevator.  My hitting the large Red Key to find out what it did shut down the entire computer system of the Houston Police Department.  Every single computer terminal had been returned to the Stone Age, to include the folks working 3622. 

The technician, the same one who’d earlier been so pleasant as he’d explained, “Don’t worry about damaging anything, just have fun figuring what it can do”, carefully adjusted that to include, “…but never, under any circumstances, touch the Red Key!”

By The Book

One of the character traits desirable in police officers has to do with being able to do things ‘by the book’.  It implies a desire to adhere to standards designed to protect the integrity of the department while establishing boundaries for those working within the ranks.

(Image courtesy of istockphoto dot com)

Back in the mid to late seventies I apprenticed as a locksmith, working for free in order to learn the ‘tricks of the trade’, so to speak.  I’d show up on Saturdays and do whatever I was able during those hours.  Most of the time I’d get a free sandwich as part of the deal. 

At a certain point it became clear that I was able to do some of the simpler jobs and could actually go out on jobs to prove my talents.  Any money collected belonged to the shop since I was there as an apprentice.

It dawned on me that if I wanted to be self-employed, even for very small jobs, I needed to obtain a sales tax permit in order to be within the law.  Doing things by the book was important, especially since I was also a uniformed police officer representing the City of Houston.  It wouldn’t do for me to violate the law as it would be fodder for the local news media.

I drove over to the sales tax offices during my lunch break while on duty.  After filling in a form I handed it over to the young lady sitting at her desk.  She glanced it over, making sure all the spaces had been filled in; but stopped when she got to the line, ‘estimated monthly income’.

I’d done a rough calculation in my head, considering how much I might make doing a job every now and then.  I think the ‘estimated monthly amount’ I wrote down was, $250.00.  The young lady asked if perhaps I’d meant to write, $2,500.00; but I assured her that $250.00 a month would be about right.

She had a look of bewilderment as she lowered her chin slightly and asked, “You mean to tell me you’re going to quit the police department so you can be a locksmith and make only $250 a month?”

Rather than go into details about my locksmith business being mostly a hobby, something to do for fun on Saturdays, I replied, “Oh, yes Ma’am, I really enjoy locksmith work”.  I think she winced and took a deep breath as she stamped the form.  I posted a minimal deposit to cover expected sales taxes to be collected.  The next 40 years in business is, as they say, history.

Doing things by the book was a good idea since that hobby became a primary source of income that supplemented my employment as a police officer until I retired from the Houston Police Department.

That brings up another story regarding doing things by the book.  A couple of weeks prior to retiring from the department I wanted to make sure all my ducks were in a row, pardon the expression. There were things like continuity of medical insurance for my family to consider along with other payroll oriented issues that had to be properly addressed.  The forms were turned in and all that was needed was to finish out the last week on duty.

The next night, after being assigned my regular beat and shop (police car), I turned on the MDT (a fancy term for a laptop that’s attached to the police car).  The login screen wouldn’t cooperate, asking in bold print why a retired officer needed to login.

(image courtesy of wolfcomusa dot com)

I took a deep breath and managed to convince the dispatcher that I had not retired yet, that I still had a few more days to go.  Somehow the dispatcher was able to convince the system to accept a retired officer for active duty that night.

Then, when it was time to fill up the police unit with gasoline prior to going home at the end of shift, the computer at the gas pumps wouldn’t accept my information; again, asking why a retired police officer was trying to obtain gasoline.  Fortunately, my shift supervisor was close by and used his information to convince the system to let me fill up with gas.

The next night, rather than worry about why a retired police officer was on duty, our supervisors agreed that it would be much easier to assign me to desk duty the remainder of my active duty.

Some might argue or question my being a by the book kind of individual; but, for the most part, I did try to stay within the lines.