What I Wish I Knew Before I Joined

Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it: This job is badass—but it’s not easy. And if you’re thinking about becoming a firefighter, you deserve the truth. The real stuff. Not the polished recruiting posters. Not the highlight reel.

If I could sit down with my younger self—the fresh-out-of-the-Army version of me, chest puffed out, thinking I had it all figured out—I’d slap him on the back and tell him a few hard-earned lessons.

So here it is. No filter. No fluff. Just what I wish I knew before I joined the fire service.

1. This Job Will Break You Open—in the Best and Worst Ways

You’ll carry more than hoses and gear. You’ll carry death, silence, and those middle-of-the-night calls that leave a dent on your soul. If you’re lucky, you’ll also carry some of the best moments of your life.

You’ve got to be built for the long haul. Not just physically—but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. If you’re only working on your bench press, you’re f*cking up.

2. The Firehouse Isn’t a Frat—It’s a Pressure Cooker

You’ll live, eat, and breathe with these people. Some days they’ll feel like brothers. Other days, you’ll wanna throw a boot across the bay. Learn to shut your mouth, learn who to listen to, and pick your battles. Fast.

The firehouse will reveal who you are—good and bad. Handle that sh*t like a pro.

3. Leave Your Ego at the Door

Nobody gives a damn how tough you think you are. This job humbles everyone eventually. The loudest guy in the room is usually the weakest link. Show up coachable, shut up, take notes, and earn your place.

Being dependable beats being impressive—every single time.

4. Mental Health Isn’t Optional

You are going to see sh*t that sticks with you. If you bottle it up, it’s not a matter of if it’ll wreck you—it’s when.

I used to think mental health was for someone else. Until I broke down in a parking lot after a double fatality. If you think you’re too tough to talk about your brain, you’re about to get your ass handed to you.

Do the work now. Get tools in your kit. Stay in the fight.

5. Everyone Is Watching

The probie. The old salty guy. Your captain. Your kids. Especially your daughters.

They’re watching how you show up. How you lead. How you lose. The reputation you build will follow you for your entire career. Make damn sure it’s one you’re proud of.

6. You’re Going to Change—Own That

This job will change you. It should. If it doesn’t, you’re not paying attention.

But you get to choose whether it sharpens you or hardens you. You’ve seen the bitter guys—the ones who clock in dead and leave more toxic than they came. Don’t be that dude. Stay hungry. Stay teachable. Keep a grip on who you are outside of the uniform.

7. Nobody Can Want This More Than You

If you’re doing this because someone told you to, or because you think it’s a cool uniform—you’re in the wrong place.

You’ve got to f*cking want this. You’ve got to want it when it sucks. When you’re exhausted. When the heat’s unbearable and the pay’s not enough. When no one’s clapping for you.

It’s a calling. If it’s not in your bones—get out now.

Final Word

I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve buried brothers. I’ve cried in the cab. I’ve watched young guys wash out because they weren’t ready for the real job.

So I wrote this for the college athlete who just graduated and doesn’t know what’s next. For the kid who’s got a fire in his gut but no roadmap. For the one who’s wondering, “Am I cut out for this?”

The answer? You will be—if you do the damn work.

That’s why I coach. That’s why I write. Because I didn’t have a guide when I started. But now I can be one for someone else.

See you out there.

— Branden