“Mandatory class?”, I groaned as my sergeant handed me a piece of paper, “What the hell is this about?”. I already had a crappy start to my evening when my car broke down and now this garbage. My sergeant just smiled and shrugged, turning back to his briefing.
I tried vainly to ignore the smirks of the rest of my shift as I took my place for briefing. Distracted, I ignored the usual rhetoric of stolen vehicle descriptions and business checks that our fearless leader loved to throw at us before every shift.
I read the crumpled paper in my hand to find out what new horror I had to face. It was a week long class on developing community and police relations. Great, I knew I was going to have to pay for wrecking that damn patrol car. Maybe I could still get out of it. I waited until the patrol assignments were read out and then I made a bee-line for the sergeant’s desk. A firm grip on my shoulder brought my forward progress to a sudd...
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