The Sneezing Superintendent!

I was asked to work at Greater Manchester Police Headquarters for four years and was privileged to support some new and exciting training and development projects for front line officers.

It was an office type role. White shirt and tie, smartly pressed dress uniform trousers and shoes with `bulled` (highly polished) toecaps. Very smart attire, unlike the all-black military style uniform and boots worn by ` operational` police officers which is often described as ` military looking` and much more practical for working on the front line.

The role attracted the intellectually considered nicknames of ` shiny arse` (because you sat at a computer all day) or` plastics` (a term used to signify that you weren’t  a real police officer because you worked inside all the time!) and that`s not proper policing! Nevertheless, it was a very enjoyable time for me, a nice break from front line work and as I was working directly with the Force Command team gave me the opportunity to see how the force operated from a higher level which is always interesting.

Headquarters has lots of bosses in there. Many vying for importance, milling around in a haze of ego induced self-importance as they bustled around from meeting to meeting. The building itself was new and very smart. Open plan areas with breakout rooms on every one of its six floors to hold private meetings, canteens on every floor, a restaurant and lifts which worked! It was a lovely place to work.

I was sat at my open plan desk on the fourth floor surrounded by other open plan desks occupied by people working in an open planned way (get the picture?). Mr Henshaw, a superintendent and three ranks above me worked near us. He was a man full of his own self-importance, one of the more senior ranks on the floor and not adverse to a spot of bullying in his spare time. He had also developed an irritating cough.

He walked past my open plan working space and, without covering it up, let out a rattily, throaty cough as he walked past me. My hackles stand up. Ten minutes later, having exited his tremendously important meeting he headed back, past me again and another cough, right next to me, no attempt to cover it up, straight up into the air. My blood pressure is rising but still not brave enough to stand up and say anything. I looked around at my team. I knew they were thinking the same. The look on my face (my behaviour) told them what I was thinking!

Now it doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened next! Half an hour later, he walks past my desk again, cough, splutter, and full-on sneezes into the air!

Now I don’t know whether this has happened to you? Your body starts moving and doing things and your mouth starts to chuck words out that everybody can hear at the same time your sensible brain is saying “sit down and shut up! “Too late! My `trigger` has well and truly been pulled!

“I`M NOT BEING FUNNY, SIR!” I say in an angry, sarcastic tone; “I  DON`T WANT TO CATCH YOUR COLD AND I`M FAIRLY SURE MY TEAM DON`T EITHER!”!!!!” What a hero!

Now don’t be fooled into thinking this is `something and nothing`. It might be `outside` of the police service where rank and egos might not matter as much, but this was different. This was the `legend` (in his own mind). The great Superintendent Henshaw who`d been humiliated and given some home truths in front of forty or fifty colleagues, all of whom (on a rank scale) were subordinate to him.

My tone of voice whilst espousing my wisdom was one of discipline, which would normally be the other way round during dialogue between Sergeants and Superintendents.

He stopped, I slunk back into my chair, heart pounding (yes, really) a glare lasting a few seconds and then off he went without a murmur. Did he say anything? No, he didn’t. Did he hold it against me? Who knows, suffice to say I was promoted shortly after and given my first-choice division to work on and our paths never crossed again.

Do I regret it? Not one bit, but a good example of my `trigger` being pulled and the reaction which followed.

I could have dealt with it differently and hindsight is a great teacher. I should have recognised a finger was on the trigger because I hate people coughing into the air. He`d done it twice already and my hackles were raised.

I should have acted then, moved away, gone for a walk, or asked him to come into a side room so I could have a `chat` with him. It would have been the more professional thing to do. My trigger, in that moment, decided otherwise.

Do you know what your `triggers` are?

Do you notice when it`s about to be pulled?

How do you respond?

You can read more stories from the frontline, AND learn more about how to keep cool under pressure in my book SAFE AND SOUND – SECRETS OF THE WORLD`S MOST RESILIENT PEOPLE` available here..   https://amzn.eu/d/bzv26yB