Some of the students that are ordered to the training are extremely resistant to it, and that really puzzles and bothers me. I don't teach fluff classes. My classes fall solidly into the Survival Skills (Defensive Tactics, Confrontational Simulations); violence prevention (Advanced Communication, Crisis Communication with the Mentally Ill) or not getting sued (Use of Force) categories. This is important stuff. A failure in any of these areas could cost you your life, your job your income... it's potentially bad.
This isn't a safe job. Things have gotten better, but when they tasked me to design the program, 10% of our officers were being hospitalized each year. Yet in every group of people who don't want to attend training, at least one will say that they don't want to attend training because they don't need it. They don't fight. They've been doing this too long and that kind of stuff doesn't happen to experienced officers...
I've visited officers in the hospital who said stuff like that. You don't get to pick whether you get attacked. You don't get to pick whether you will have a bad day or not. We see this all around us. Good officers get taken hostage too. Good officer get clocked (far more rarely than bad officers, but it still happens). We see this, we see this all the time, and still a very small group says, "But not to me."
Watching them, they would get hurt a lot more if not for alert supervisors who assign them to safe places. Why does stupidity about risk so often go hand-in-hand with the kind of blindness and complacency that makes one such a perfect victim? The question answers itself.
Changing tires in the rain, the guy couldn't figure out how to use the rod to lower his spare tire from the undercarriage. I crawled under (why was everyone else hesitant to lie on the wet ground?) and felt for the attachment point. The square end of the rod he slid in was exactly the same size as the attachment. "You have to use the other end," I said, "this is too small to fit over the crank."
"Nope," he replied, "That can't be right. The handle fits on this end. That doesn't make sense."
So let's get this straight: I'm right there. I'm telling him why it's not working and what we need to make it work... and he rejects it because it doesn't make sense from his (completely separated) point of view.
He actually refused, twice, to turn the rod around. After those two failures he acquiesced to try it my way (the way of the guy who was actually there) and in a few seconds, his spare tire was free.
Maybe that would make a good name for a style, translated into Japanese: The Way of the Guy Who is Actually There. Actually there guy-do. Kevin?