My first day on the job as a police officer. I woke up pretty early—probably because the excitement got the better of me and I couldn't wait for my first day.
I rub the sleep from my eyes, drag myself out of bed, and make my way to the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at the mirror.
"Right... I forgot to shave," I mutter under my breath.
No choice but to shave and take a shower. The smell of pancakes fills the whole house—my mom always made them for special occasions. Yeah, I still live with my parents—I can't afford my own place yet.
I get dressed, pack the essentials into my backpack, and head downstairs to greet my parents. As I walk down the stairs, I hear them talking about something, but I can't quite make out what.
"Morning, Mom. Dad. Why are you up so early?" They both had the day off today. Kind of strange.
"Morning, son," they reply almost at the same time.
"Ready for your first day?" my dad asks, looking me straight in the eyes. It gives me chills. You can tell they're more stressed about it than I am. Actually, Dad's the most stressed—he's always reading and watching stuff about what police officers deal with, especially in New York.
"Of course. I can't wait."
"That's good. Do you know who you'll be patrolling with?" my mom asks curiously.
"As far as I know, I've already been assigned to someone, but I'll meet my partner today."
That's my biggest concern. What will they be like? Will we get along? Will I make a good first impression? What if they don't like me...? But there's no point overthinking it now.
Time for pancakes.
I sit down at the table, and Mom immediately puts a plate in front of me. Dad pours me a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Here you go, your favorite."
"And juice! I squeezed it myself this morning," Dad adds.
"I packed you a lunch for work—only healthy stuff!" Mom says as she goes back to doing the dishes.
Dad nudges me slightly and whispers:
"I slipped in some unhealthy stuff too. Candy bars, gummies, and a Coke... just don't tell your mom."
He smiles.
Yeah, that's always been our little secret. Junk food. We'd sneak out to the shed pretending we had something to fix, then sit there stuffing ourselves with sweets. Mom always cooked healthy meals. No soda, no chips, no junk food. Always vegetables and light meals. It took me forever just to convince her to let me drink workout supplements... let alone protein shakes.
I glance at the clock—6:45. I've got a bit of time to check something on my laptop, and at 7:30 I'll head out in my junker to start this new chapter.
I open my laptop and check my email. I see I've received my schedule for the first week.
"A bit late," I think. "But better late than never."
I open the file and see I've been assigned to Marcus Bennett.
Now I just can't be late—otherwise I'm screwed.
I close the laptop and get ready.
"See you in the evening," I say, noticing my parents watching me.
"Take care, son."
I get into my car... if you can even call it that. It's an old Chevrolet that's falling apart from the inside, but it's never let me down—it always gets me from point A to point B.
I set up the navigation on my phone. The route will take just under an hour and a half. Looks like I'll be cutting it close. Hopefully I don't mess up on day one.
I arrive at my assigned station: NYPD 75th Precinct (Brooklyn – East New York). I park the car and step out.
As soon as I get out, I look around. Then suddenly, I hear a voice behind me:
"Hey kid, you the new guy?"
I turn and nod. Some older officer. Definitely been here a long time—knows everyone. That's why he spotted me right away.
"Come on, I'll help you sort out the paperwork and get you ready to meet your partner," he says with a slight smile.
I don't like that already. But there's no backing out now. I chose this path.
He shows me around the station, helps me get a locker, and sort out all the formalities.
"Am I the only new one assigned here?" I ask.
"Who would want to work here?" he replies with a grin, then continues.
"We picked you because we needed someone who can handle stress, stay calm, and communicate well. From what I've heard, you fit the bill."
"Is there a lot going on here?" I ask.
I'm curious if he'll try to sugarcoat it. He doesn't.
"This area isn't the safest. That's why we try to pick the best officers. It's chaotic—young people with problems, parties. Nights are worse... drugs, fights, calls. But don't worry—you'll start night shifts next week. For now, you'll get used to your partner. And he's not an easy one."
I listen carefully and think:
Fuck... where the hell did I end up?
"So there'll be plenty to do," I say with a smile.
"Definitely. Now come on, I'll show you the most important place—the coffee machine."
Coffee. The most important thing for any cop.
We walk down a hallway full of offices and stop at a door.
"Go on, kid," he says, nudging me forward.
My eyes land on the nameplate.
Marcus Bennett.
The name hits me instantly.
And suddenly, something clicks.
I'd heard that name before.
Back at the academy, older cadets talked about him. Some with admiration... others more quietly. Like they didn't want to be overheard.
They said he didn't take pointless cases. He either finished them quickly... or very quickly.
They said if you got paired with him, you'd either learn more than in the entire academy... or you wouldn't last a month.
Someone once said:
"Bennett doesn't train you. Bennett tests if you're good enough."
And that might have been the worst part.
I didn't know if I'd gotten lucky... or completely screwed.
Apparently, he had his own methods. Not always by the book—but effective.
And one more thing I remembered.
He's never late.
He never repeats orders.
And he doesn't like people who make excuses.
Great.
Exactly what I needed on my first day.
I take a deep breath and reach for the handle.
"Here we go..." I mutter.
I open the door, and the first thing that hits me is a cloud of cigarette smoke.
"Good morning. I'm your new assignment—Jakub."
"Sit."
I sit down. Across from me is a higher-ranking officer. He doesn't look pleased. Can't blame him—he's stuck babysitting some rookie.
"Listen. I'm not here to be your babysitter. I read your file. You seem capable—but we'll see how you handle real work."
He takes one last drag and puts out the cigarette.
"I assume they explained everything to you. I see you've already picked up your gear."
"Yes, sir."
"You don't have to be that formal. We're partners."
That surprises me. Maybe he's testing me.
"Yes, everything's been explained. I've got my gear."
"Good. Let's move. You're driving today."
I nod.
He's definitely testing me.
We head outside toward the parking lot.
"Catch," he says, tossing me the keys—to a brand new Ford Police Interceptor Utility.
Great.
Looks like today I have to watch not only what I say and do...
but also a brand new patrol car.