Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
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Paperwork.
Stacks of it. Piles. Mountains.
One day, you're young and energetic, hopeful and excited. You're thinking about your future, imagining how awesome it'll be to work for your community.
Suit up, protect and serve.
Someone's selling you a dream and they've got you hooked. They hype you up, give you a badge and a gun and say, "Hey, go get the bad guys!" Next thing you know, you've been a cop for almost fifteen years and it feels like all you do is fill out paperwork.
No one tells you about all the fucking paperwork.
So much of it is for the dumbest shit, too. The calls we go on are downright absurd sometimes. Someone is always loitering where they don't belong or trying to buy smokes with a fake twenty. It's the same old drunk asshole causing the same old drunk scene on the same old tired sidewalk he's strolled for years. Or better yet, some old lady named Edith is calling 911 because a bunch of kids are riding bikes down the street.
Those ones are the most annoying to me. When the people sitting around bitching about the good old days, talking about how young people are glued to their screens and devices, are always the first to complain when those same kids are trying to have fun in the fresh outside air. Leave 'em alone. Shit.
I hope I never grow old and miserable. With my mid-thirties looming, I can't deny feeling out of sorts these days. I'm still basically young. Most of the time, I still feel young, too. But some days, man.
Some days, I feel like I'm just a millisecond away from being Edith, the nosy killjoy.
"Shouldn't you be at home getting ready for your blind date?" Johnson, our loyal custodian, interrupts my thoughts with his signature gruff laugh, graciously pulling me away from the daunting stack of reports on my desk. "We need you looking your best if you're finally gonna meet your future wife tonight."
Leaning back in my chair, I throw him a smirk. "If my date is blind, does it really matter what I look like?"
Yeah, I just said that. Because I'm fucking hilarious.
Johnson laughs again, his voice wobbling around in a low bellow like my ridiculous joke was the stupidest funny thing he's heard all day. "Leave that lame shit at home or you'll never find the one."
"Noted," I tell him with an honest salute of gratitude.
I need all the advice and silly reminders I can get. I don't want to be out here jinxing myself for the sake of a laugh. The dating scene is too complex and delicate for that shit. It's hard enough finding someone on the same wavelength as me, I don't need to jinx myself with careless, bad jokes. Especially when it comes to someone I didn't meet organically.
I'm already not feeling great about tonight. This is my first time being set up like this, without having met the person yet, and I've never been more uncomfortable at the prospect of it all. I'm only doing it as a favor to the chief, hoping and praying it doesn't come back to bite me in the ass if this date with his cousin's daughter doesn't go well.
