For a brief period years ago, my next door neighbor was a cop. Not just any cop, but an emergency services cop who worked on the SWAT team. Nice guy. Pleasant, friendly, helpful to a fault. Never, during that time, did I hear a mean word, no less a curse, come out of his mouth. And yet, we talked one day about the way in which he executed his duty, and one of the things that stunned me was that his language changed from my good neighbor to a vulgar animal.
When I asked him why, he explained that it had shock value and enabled him to establish “command presence,” the assertion of control over the person he was dealing with. It showed that he was not “fucking” around, but was both very serious and not inclined to tolerate any challenge. As a cop, this was a life or death need, he explained. Any crack in his commanding facade could spell death for him, and he had no plan to die that day. Continue reading
