Dear Rookie: Stop Crying in Your Patrol Car—Here’s What You Really Need to Know
Look, we’ve all been there—sitting in the patrol car (Fire Truck or Ambulance) at 2 AM, fighting back tears, wondering why we didn’t just become a Starbucks barista instead. But before you draft that resignation email, let’s talk.
Your first year as a first responder is a special kind of hell. You’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and convinced everyone thinks you’re an idiot. Good news? You’re not alone. Every single one of us felt like that. Even the salty old dude who mocks you now? He cried in his car once, too. (Probably more than once.)
But you’ll survive. And when you do, you’ll be stronger, sharper, and ready to help the next rookie wipe their tears. Here’s what you really need to know:
Everyone Feels Like an Idiot at First You’re not stupid; you’re new. Confidence comes later—right now, your job is to survive. The pressure you’re feeling? Normal. Just keep showing up. That’s how you win.
Ask Questions—But Not Stupid Ones There’s no shame in asking for help. But write sh*t down. Don’t ask the same question five times. You’ll learn faster, and your FTO won’t secretly plot your demise.
Stop Trying to Prove Yourself You don’t need to arrest the entire city your first week. Nobody is impressed by overcompensating. Slow and steady keeps you employed.
Mistakes WILL Happen You will miss radio calls. You will lock yourself out of the cruiser. You will accidentally hit the siren instead of the lights and scare the hell out of yourself. Laugh it off. Don’t spiral. We’ve all been there.
Find Your People That one co-worker who actually gives good advice? Stick with them. Build your support system early—you’ll need it. The job is easier when you have a crew who gets it.
Take Care of Your Damn Self Fast food and caffeine are inevitable, but sleep is a weapon. Move your body—I don’t care if it’s the gym, a jog, or rage-walking around the station parking lot. Exercise will keep you sane (and help you chase the guy who runs). Burnout is real—don’t let your ego drive you into the ground.
Crying in your ride doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. The ones who push through this part? They become the badasses you’ll admire later. Now wipe your face and go handle business.