Cheeseburger Flavored Bread.
So, what do I do when I've done nothing at work? How do I please the millions of feverish readers who religiously follow these chronicles of excitement and adventure? This is a site about the awe-inspiring life adventures of a paramedic. These words are written to motivate and to reach deep down into your soul and shake loose any, and all, of the cobwebs restraining one's love for life.
Nothing happened tonight.
Really. I mean, we did some calls. But, who wants to hear about the baby who scratched her nose with her fingernail, or the kid that bent his thumb backwards while wrestling? Doesn't make for an attention-grabbing, unbelievably amazing, on the edge-of-your-seat story, does it?
Well, I warned you that it's nothing like on TV.
But, I got to thinking last night, anyway.
Sitting, cramped, in the front of an ambulance in a grocery store parking lot having a diesel engine idling war with the parked semi next to us (who my partner was convinced was watching porn in the back, because "that's what truck drivers do"), I began to ponder. To wonder, how can I make more money?
I mean, if I was independently wealthy, or won the lottery, or just happened across a lot of cash, that would make my job a whole lot better. I could then do it, because I like it. I mean, I like it now. But, whenever you do something that is a primary means of support for you and your family, regardless if you like it or not, you begin to hate it.
Driving that beer truck. Making those donuts. Being a rock star. They all feel the same way I do. They all get sick of their jobs. You know, somewhere, sometime, some super star has said before playing in front of thousands of screaming people:
"Man, this sucks!' It's true. Just ask. After you get his autograph.
Anyway, that leads me to my get quick, money-making scheme that would allow me to enjoy my job like I should.
Cheeseburger flavored bread.
Nothing happened tonight.
Really. I mean, we did some calls. But, who wants to hear about the baby who scratched her nose with her fingernail, or the kid that bent his thumb backwards while wrestling? Doesn't make for an attention-grabbing, unbelievably amazing, on the edge-of-your-seat story, does it?
Well, I warned you that it's nothing like on TV.
But, I got to thinking last night, anyway.
Sitting, cramped, in the front of an ambulance in a grocery store parking lot having a diesel engine idling war with the parked semi next to us (who my partner was convinced was watching porn in the back, because "that's what truck drivers do"), I began to ponder. To wonder, how can I make more money?
I mean, if I was independently wealthy, or won the lottery, or just happened across a lot of cash, that would make my job a whole lot better. I could then do it, because I like it. I mean, I like it now. But, whenever you do something that is a primary means of support for you and your family, regardless if you like it or not, you begin to hate it.
Driving that beer truck. Making those donuts. Being a rock star. They all feel the same way I do. They all get sick of their jobs. You know, somewhere, sometime, some super star has said before playing in front of thousands of screaming people:
"Man, this sucks!' It's true. Just ask. After you get his autograph.
Anyway, that leads me to my get quick, money-making scheme that would allow me to enjoy my job like I should.
Cheeseburger flavored bread.
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