Meet the ‘mid-life crisis’ cops joining the thin blue line later in life
Sunday, 18 January 2026
Mid-life crises are out; mid-life career change is in. In this new series, The Post talks to people who have torn up the script in their 40s and beyond, swapping the familiar for the unknown in their quest for fulfilment. Senior crime reporter Katie Ham meets three “mid-life crisis” cops pulling on the blue uniform for the first time well into adulthood.
David Power has lived many lives.
Now aged 40, he has cooked in high-end European kitchens, fixed skis late into alpine nights, guided mountain bikers through the Austrian countryside, and competed in ultra-marathons.
It’s a working life that’s been stitched together by seasons rather than calendars: winters chasing snow, summers chasing trails.
And for two decades, that life suited him.
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But the idea of following in the footsteps of his father who had been a police search and rescue specialist always hovered in the back of Power’s mind.
Becoming a police officer was something Power assumed belonged to another version of his life - until a conversation with a friend made him realise the policing door was still ajar.
“I was talking to a mate of mine who’d recently joined the army and suddenly I thought: ‘Actually, maybe I’m not too old after all’,” Power recalled.
A “quick bit of research” and an email to the recruitment team later, Power had submitted an application to New Zealand Police.
Data shows Power is far from alone in considering a career change later in life. According to employment website SEEK’s Evolving Life Report, released last year, more than half of Kiwis regret their choice of work.
Of 1045 respondents, 54% had work regrets - 50% said ‘I don’t earn enough’, 36% said their interests and passions had changed, 24% said the work was dull, another 22% gave a poor work-life balance as the main cause.
But while 41% were open to the idea of a career change, only 6% were actively moving towards one. Money worries, cited as the main cause of career regret, were also the greatest barrier to career change.
For Power, the financial hit was significant. Joining the police meant not only a substantial pay cut, but also nearly $10,000 upfront to cover relocation and logistical costs, like having his medical records translated.
Despite considering a move to Canada to continue his outdoor lifestyle, the pull of policing proved stronger, and Power moved back to New Zealand to join the police.
Power landed in Aotearoa just seven days before starting at Police College, with a new home to organise, a car to buy, and the mental recalibration of shifting from decades of seasonal freedom to the unpredictability of shift work.
“But I think that’s one of the best things about being a cop. I don’t know what I’m going to walk into today, let alone tomorrow.
“It feels a bit corny but I think with frontline policing, if you start small, you can actually change the community you live in. There’s no point trying to change the world, but for this community I might be able to make a difference, and that’s really special.”
At college, Power shared a dorm with another older recruit, a builder in his late 30s, and the pair quickly became each other’s lifelines.
Returning to learning later in life, the duo were worried they were more out of practice than those coming straight from school or university, so studied together in the evenings.
Both into fitness, they played to their strengths with physical learning, turning workouts into legislation quizzes.
“We’d do stress learning, where we’d go to the gym and wouldn’t let ourselves put weights down until we could recite all of the legislation. Or we’d do basketball shots or laps and go back to the beginning if we got something wrong.”
Power is now two weeks into a posting at Huntly station, in the heart of the Waikato District.
Even with the pay cut and the lifestyle upheaval, he doesn’t regret the move: “It’s got better every step of the way, I’m loving every moment.”
But Power also doesn’t regret not joining the police earlier.
“I thought I’d missed the boat and that there was an age limit, but to be honest I wasn’t ready to be a cop until later. I think of all the things I’ve done in life that led me here - like waking up every morning and hiking a mountain or watching the sunrise - and I can’t regret those.
“The only thing I worry about is whether I’m going to be able to do it for long enough given how much I like it.”
From here, Power hopes to one day follow in his father’s footsteps and become a search and rescue specialist, combining his adventurous spirit with his desire to help others.
Moulding a new life in blue
When Yon Jarvis spoke to The Post, she’d just finished a shift largely spent trying to talk a young woman in mental distress down from a bridge.
It’s a far cry from the workdays she used to have.
For more than a decade, Jarvis was a celebrated ceramicist, crafting bowls, mugs and plates that found their way into homes across New Zealand and Australia - and onto the shelves of designers like Karen Walker.
Her life revolved around clay and colour as she ran her business, Claybird Ceramics.
“When I was having children, I was doing night classes and pottery, so when my last child went to kindy, I thought I may as well make a business out of it.
“Very quickly, it snowballed and I started to get recognised by different people. All of a sudden it was this big machine that I couldn't stop. I got tied into seasonal ranges, and it just kept growing,” Jarvis said.
Where once Claybird was something to occupy herself while her children were at school, the workload became relentless.
“I was working seven days a week, designing and manufacturing. It turned into this giant beast and ran me dry, basically. I was burnt out.“
But alongside the business, Jarvis spent years volunteering - running informal art therapy sessions in schools and with family harm victims.
“Art seemed to open people up, and I wondered whether there was something else I could be doing where I could work with people in a similar way.”
A series of conversations over the course of her ceramics career stuck with Jarvis and she began looking into policing.
In the end, the stars aligned with the opening of the new Police College campus in Auckland last year, giving her the chance to “throw my hat in the ring”.
The smaller, local cohort meant she could retrain while living at home - a crucial factor for the mother of three.
“It would have been extremely hard otherwise. My kids are a lot older now, but my youngest is 16, so I had to think about my family and how they’d be with me being away for five months. But they were excited that I wanted to do something I was passionate about.”
Now aged 45, and just a few weeks into her placement in the Waitematā District, the biggest adjustment for Jarvis has been shift work.
“The job itself is also very tiring, you’re constantly thinking, making decisions, everything’s happening at once […] But you’re not a superhero. You just face each challenge head-on and do your best.”
As she works through her probationary period, Jarvis is keeping an open mind about what comes next, jotting down the roles of other officers she encounters that she might like.
And to anyone else considering making a similar leap later in life, her advice is simple: “Believe in yourself. You can do it”.
From panel beater to painter to patrol
At 52, Phil Neighbour figured the policing ship had sailed. He’d spent most of his working life as a tradie - first as a qualified panelbeater, later as a self-employed painter.
But when Neighbour’s wife was diagnosed with breast cancer, the couple decided to step away from the pressures of running a business in Wellington and relocated to Tauranga where he took a “normal” job in a paint shop.
The move only sharpened a feeling he’d been carrying for decades: he wasn’t where he was meant to be.
“I was talking to my dad while I was working in the paint shop in Tauranga, and I was saying I couldn’t stand being inside all day. I hated it. That’s when dad reminded me I’d always used to say I wanted to be a cop,” Neighbour said.
With his father’s encouragement, Neighbour applied online. Still, he couldn’t shake the doubt in his mind that maybe he was too old after all - until a recruiter called him directly.
“She was brilliant. She said to me: ‘Don’t let anyone tell you you’re too old to do this. We need more cops with life experience’. Hearing that was really encouraging. I needed it.”
One hurdle remained: the notoriously difficult police fitness test. Neighbour trained for 18 months - shaving almost 20 minutes off his run time - and entered Police College in April last year.
Turning up at college, as a self-professed “mid-life crisis cop”, he had no idea what to expect.
“I knew everyone would be younger than me, and having never been to uni I was really, really nervous. For the first time, I was suddenly in lecture theatres looking around thinking ‘How on earth did I get here?’ But I was welcomed with open arms.”
From the outset, his age was treated as an asset, not a hindrance.
Now 53, and three months into the job, Neighbour is a frontline constable at Huntly station in the Waikato District, alongside Power.
Working out of a rural station means there are no placement rotations, just whatever comes through the door.
“In one shift you might do car stops, a family harm, a burglary, an assault, driving an hour each way to Raglan. You do everything. The learning curve is straight up.”
Shift work has been the hardest adjustment. Some days, he loses track of what day it is.
“Everyone will give you tips on how best to manage night shifts, but it takes a while to figure out what works for you.”
There’s been a financial hit too, but for Neighbour, money was never the point.
“You don’t join the police for the pay. I count it a real privilege to go into people’s homes on potentially their worst day and try to help them. Not many jobs let you do that.”
A 2am visit to the family of an elderly woman who’d gone missing from hospital days after brain surgery crystallised that feeling.
“They were terrified, but we were calm and methodical. When we left, they were still scared but they trusted the plan. I can’t think of many other jobs where you get to reassure people like that.”
The support and camaraderie among his peers has also surprised Neighbour.
“I was self-employed for 20 years, so that’s something I haven’t really experienced before. But the support has been phenomenal. No question is too out the gate, and when you have a job where no two days are the same, that’s really important.”
Asked if he regrets not joining earlier, Neighbour doesn’t hesitate: “100%”.
And for anyone wondering if they’ve missed their chance? “It’s like Nike would say: Just do it.”