Secret Agent

Standing there vigilantly, walkie-talkie in hand, the thought crossed my mind that if somebody did try and make their way forcibly past me, and through the gate I was protecting, I would have no way of actually stopping them, short of jamming my arm through the bars while they relentlessly forced the gate open until my arm finally snapped.
That wouldn’t actually do all that well to be honest.
I mean, the least they could do was provide me with a well oiled and robust padlock, ready to be slammed through the bolt at a moments notice. It surely wasn’t too much to ask.
Without seeming too alarmist I casually walked past the security hut and glanced inside. Sure enough, a padlock was lying on the table. Open. Ready for use.
I measured the distance from my guard post to the table and rehearsed racing to get to it in an emergency.
I should just make it at a push.
There was also a set of hand-cuffs on the table. Nice.
I don’t know why I wasn’t issued a set.
You cannot take school guard duty too lightly.
It is every Fathers responsibility to be on the front line. To be firm with the late drop offs. To give the Principle a nod and a wink. To keep things smooth.
I have watched Munich and read a couple of secret service books in my time. I know the score. I have seen All the Presidents Men. I would have made a perfect secret agent. Cold, calculating, efficient.
While the rest of the countries teachers are on strike, my fifteen year old ten year old is at a school whose teachers are not on strike. This is a school whose fees we cannot afford, yet send our children to in the misguided hope that they don’t turn out to be too much like their old man, and more like their mother.
Don’t worry. They are not spoiled kids. I make sure that they know what this costs and use every available opportunity to let them know the sacrifice I am making using their mothers salary to pay for their expensive tuition.
I get a morning guard duty once a month. You should too. Cowards.
It’s a powerful responsibility, and having a walkie-talkie in your hand is a powerful thing. You gain three inches in height if you hold it correctly.
The best grip I have worked out is the classic Bobby on the Beat posture. I walk slowly and determinedly, eyes scanning vigilantly for any threats, hands behind my back, walkie-talkie held firmly in the outer hand. The trick is that when you reach the end of your beat, you stop and turn your body back, but (this is important), you leave your head facing the way you were walking, for a couple of seconds longer, like your animal sub-conscious has spotted something, a thoughtful, knowing look on your face while your body is turning back. Anybody staking you out with high powered glasses would know that you had spotted something. That you were alert. That they would be fools to take you on.
Another classic pose is The Tapping Arial. Stand watching approaching cars with your left hand on your hip (ready to draw), your right leg is slightly cocked, and with the walkie-talkie in your right hand, you thoughtfully and coolly, tap your leg with the aerial. (Not too hard or it will sting though.)
Another pointer is to make sure you get a good walkie-talkie. I got a terrible one last week. Instead of a good, solid menacing aerial, my aerial was a short solid piece, joined to the handset with a short spring. It wobbled like Noddy’s head and was hardly going to put the fear of god into any would be attackers.
Halfway through my duty I spotted a suspicious car. It had two young men in it pretending to be off to work. It seemed out of place. I carefully marked it in my mind, in case it came around the block again. When they drew closer I narrowed my eyes and clenched my jaw a few times.
I’ve got you marked buddy. You go and look suspicious somewhere else.
Mr walkie-talkie is all over you and your car.
Then it hit me. The flaw.
What if they drove past just once each day? What then?
Shitsake!
There was no way tomorrows parent would know that I had marked that car today.
And then I had this beautiful thought.
What I needed was a button.
If my walkie-talkie had a button on that I could press, that activated a hidden CCTV camera then a high tech control room, manned by SWAT operatives, could get footage of suspicious vehicles.
Better yet would be two buttons. An orange and a red one.
If it was a very dangerous looking car, then I could press the red one. And if it was only mildly threatening, then I could press the orange one.
The SWAT guys (my guys) could triage the footage into two risk groups. They would nod knowingly at each other and say things like “He hit a home run again”, and “Man, he knows his stuff.”
I have suggested the beautiful button idea to the Principle and as soon as he gets back to me I’ll let you know the outcome.
Oh, and to the parents with shitsake cars. We are a brotherhood. I love those occasional rusted, belching, wrecks that come out the gate.They are either making an admirable sacrifice to get their kids a good education, or they just don’t give a flying. You gotta love em.
And on my beat. Keep them safe.