Stop Teasing Me, Already!

So, I'm working inside last night - coding reports and other nonsense – and my lieutenant comes in. He looks at me and tells the entire operations room the latest rumor . . .

The police commissioner is promoting detectives at the end of next week.

Uh-huh. If I had a promotion for every time I heard I was going to be promoted, I'd be a captain by now. I voiced my disbelief to the lieutenant – I think I actually said, "Bulls**t" – and went back to my computer screen. He told me that his source is pretty well connected, but I'll believe it when I see it. I know you're all sick of hearing it, but I am currently 18th on the list. The odds are good that I will be promoted in the first batch.

Of course, we're talking about me here, so the city will probably only make seventeen detectives; thus contributing to my already fragile psyche. To be honest, I am really scared that I will make detective, because I don't know if I can handle the job. (Remember, I'm a big, dumb guy.) Not that it's gonna matter . . . it won't happen.