Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Ambulance Chronicles
:: Welcome to My Life. Just look around, read some stuff, or laugh in mockery at me.
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[::Get to know me::]
::I'm an EMT, and I work on an ambulance. I'm aspiring to be a paramedic someday, but I might go for the MD also.
::Anne is my silly goose and we have been married for four and a half years. Time flies when you fight wars.
::God is so amazing. He's done so much in my life lately. Just read to the right.
::I am a former driver's ed student and I'm probably that kid that your family talks about almost hitting them.
[::My weather::]
[::Listening to::]
::my IPOD
[::My favorite sites::]
::Annikin's online journal
::SGT Dub's blog
::Task Force Warrior
::Get addicted
::How Stuff Works
::Christian guitar
::Christian happenings
[::..Feeling nostalgic?..::]
[::My contact info::]
::My email
Email Me!!!

:: Sunday, March 09, 2008 ::

I'm not alone in this world

I was snooping around the internet and found the ad my company posted to replace the guy they just fired. I'm half tempted to post an ad above that says "Turn away now" but I think that wouldn't look good upon me. And I did a little chatting with my coworkers today (I know its against store policy) and apparently everyone hates working at that place and everyone hates the wages. Why do we put up with this then? I'll never know.

One guy is working three jobs and most are working two jobs to survive in this city. That's outrageous considering the prices they charge on our merchandise. I would like to see the amount of profit they make a day. Even though they employ a ridiculous amount of employees, I still think they clear a pretty penny. The thing that I think makes it worse is that the owners lie to the customers claiming everything is homemade or imported from italy. If only customers knew that over half of the homemade stuff is opened from a can and repacked into our store packages.

And explain to me how something that is made right in front of the customers is homemade. No one lives at this place and no one cooks at home and brings this stuff. Thus, its not homemade. Riddle me this, Batman.

I guess I'm just being a cynical soldier again. I'm just tired and cranky because for the last three weeks I have been living in New York City, I have only had one day of fun. My other days were driving home or driving back. That's about it. I haven't had any other days off and had my day off pushed back because they fired the other schmo. Riddle me this, Batman.

That's ok though. I don't need fun because working dulls my brain out and I forget how miserable I am without my wife. I don't forget my wife, I just don't pay attention to how lonely I am. And I'm not totally lonely. I have Jill face every now and then when work allows it and I have my friends at work, even though my broken espanol only goes so far.

I just miss my wife. I miss intelligent conversation. I miss human contact (being crammed on the subway doesn't count even if some guy touches my butt intentionally or not.).

Oh well, complaining doesn't solve anything and there isn't anything I can do about it anyway. Just sit and wait and let this part run its course.

I didn't do any deliveries today, but I did sack groceries for well over two hours today. That was at least 30 cycles in my head. And trash took an hour (it usually takes only 30 minutes) so that killed another 12 cycles. That's a lot of time just blown away while I'm not doing my assigned job. I'm still tired of looking like a manager but there is nothing I can do about it. I wore blue jeans today, but mixed it with my outfit my sweet love bought me (black cashmere sweater, white button down, and dark red tie) so I was still looking better than the managers. Plus I shave everyday (yes, halfway voluntarily) and I shave my whole face so I beat two of the four managers.

I'm sorry, I have to deviate from my train of thought and pause to laugh (in silence with the exception of a slight grimace and chuckle) at two guys trying to prove their eloquent knowledge of the New York City MTA subway to each other.

"It's a hard choice to make. Do you take the local or the express? The express only makes sense if you can pass another local train because if not you just have to wait for the local you didn't get on."

They actually were in agreeance with each other.

While this may seem eloquent to the folks at home, it's actually such absurd common sense that uttering aloud should result in wailing and screaming of the offender. And, to top it off, while this monstrosity of a conversation took place (roughly 3 minutes worth), the conductor announced that the downtown 6 train was running express from 14th street to Brooklyn-Bridge / City Hall (thus skipping their intended stop of Canal St); therefore, their choice and the following conversation praising themselves on a job well done was completely irrelevant since their stop was being skipped either way.

Why do I find this funny considering I have been turned around more than once in the underbelly of New York City? I don't laud myself with such esteem publicly so everyone knows how ingenious I am. I use my ignorance as a platform to bring entertainment (and hopefully laughter) to you, my valued readers. I only pray that I have succeeded in this venture.

I have forgotten what I was talking about earlier. Stupid people just can't be blindly ignored and not made fun of. Where is the right and justice in that? I hope that people laugh and post to their blogs in satirical whimsey at my misfortunes in New York City. We all have them so we might as well suck it up and laugh along.

As my train crests the Manhattan Bridge and goes back underground on my late night commute home, I bring this post to a close. It's been a long day. It's been a long week. It's been a long month. It is all worth something though. You just have to sit back and see the lessons to be learned all around you (a faint smell of bleach reminds me of a very important lesson I learned). Life is a giant school book of lessons and even though we all hate homework (well, most. My wife adores English homework with the passion of a thousand ... umm ... passionate people), we all have to study to pass the test called life. I'm just as afraid of what lies after this graduation as I was my high school one.

God is good. All the time.

P.s. This post brought to you while riding the Brooklyn Bridge bound 6 and the Brooklyn / Coney Island Q trains and waiting at the 77th and Lex downtown 6 platform and the 14th St / Union Square Brooklyn NQRW platform of the ever more infamous New York City MTA subway.

P.s.s. I haven't quite figured out what to call the subway system in New York City yet, hence the ever changing name I use in my post scripts. I think I might just stick with New York City MTA or just MTA since I'm only in one city. The infamous part will never change unless the New York City MTA (or MTA, I might flip a coin) decides to give me free rides which I don't forsee in the near, distant, or ever future.

P.s.s.s. I thought there were so many homeless people in New York City that my chances of meeting the same person more than once in my life were one in roughly 8 million. I, and inherently you, am experiencing that one. There is a guy that rides the Q train randomly and sings his own rendition of the opera (any opera, maybe more than one lumped together) interrupted occassionally by his own shouting of "Aye-yi-yi" and barking at other riders on the train. I deeply regret that my words can't give this experience the justice it rightly deserves. Forgive me.

:: Ben 11:36 PM [+] ::
Speaking of homemade, I love the PACKAGES that have "homemade" printed on it! Homemade?!?!
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