Kojak Moments #1: Lucky Me
Crocker's thoughts on working for Kojak
Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.
It's been one of those days. Lousy. It's steaming outside and in the squad room. The Lieutenant has been riding me all day, I've got paperwork coming out of ears, and I've been Crocker'd one time too many. All I can do now at the end of my shift is bury my head in my hands before dragging myself out the door.
The Lieutenant, he yells at everybody, but he yells at nobody like he yells at me. Lucky me, right? Sometimes the other guys act like they wish they could spend time with him, and learn from him, maybe show off their stuff, but then they see how he is with me and decide they're better off without that attention.
It isn't just the yelling, either. He likes to mess with me. I can be standing or sitting near him, and out of the blue he'll reach over and fiddle with my tie, or adjust a lapel, brush something off my shoulders. Sometimes he'll be rougher. I'll get a slap in the face, which means different things. Sometimes it means he approves of something I did, other times it's more like a warning-I love ya, but knock it off- when I've mouthed back at him. He's been even rougher at times, too, and it doesn't have to do anything with me, but something else that set him off. He'll grab my tie and jerk me forward to go eyeball to eyeball and to tell me pretty graphically what he wants me to do next on a case. He only does these things to me. Lucky me.
I'm still rubbing my eyes when I feel a hand on the back of my neck. I don't have to look up to see who it is. It's another move he does only to me. He isn't rough this time, just taps a couple of times to signal he wants my attention.
I look up and lock eyes with him. He has the quiet and calm look he gets when someone, like one of the victims we come across, gets to him. "Come on. I'll buy you dinner before we call it a night and start over again tomorrow-or today, judging by the clock."
He isn't actually apologizing-that's not his style-but I get what he's saying. He's telling me I didn't do anything terribly wrong and he isn't really angry with me. Time to move on. I've been upset about his treatment today longer than he likes to see, and he's decided it's time to get me to settle down, and let it go.
We've only watched each other for a second or two, but I already feel some of my frustration dissolve away under that quiet, patient look. He notices it too, and tugs my jacket off the back of my chair.
It's bad enough when your boss knows how to push your buttons, but when the sonofabitch is also the guy who installed the buttons in the first place, it's all over.
I manage to sigh before I stand up, and let it go just like he intended. He tosses me my jacket, and I follow him out the door.
He's got me completely pegged. Lucky me.