EMS is not the highest paid career choice there is by any means. I mean Children aren't lining up on career day to see the Paramedic thinking "Wow, I bet he drives a Lexus and has a twelve bedroom mansion." No the thought of saving lives and being involved in the Emergency is what brings the kids, that and the lights and sirens. We make sacrifices in life constantly, though it seems EMS is a bit more often.
My Wife and I have done alright for ourselves, both in under paid professions, we own rather than rent and are able to provide for our son. That being said, I have made changes in these economic times to be more fiscally responsible. Packing my dinner rather than buying out, drinking from the stations water cooler, and enjoying being home bodies for entertainment. Its not ideal but it makes life easier on us, and reduces our stress.
Now I'm not blogging for sympathy, or bragging rights, that's not my style. So there is comedic twist to this blog...dun, dun, dun...foreshadowing? But I digress.
I am not afraid to be, as my wife would say, cheap; though I think of it as Fiscally responsible. I go through the couch cushions at the station to find loose change in attempts to scrounge up enough to purchase the item of my desire. After a few weeks I use this said change to treat myself on day four to a soda. Which today was that day, That day where my hard earned work of flipping cushions and combating the creatures of the couch paid off. Three weeks to find enough change to buy an ice cold, thirst quenching, caffeine enthralling Mountain Dew. What a brilliant, magnificent, splendid, resplendent, splendiferous, illustrious, redoubtable day this was going to be!
Much as I enjoy cake and fried foods, I love my Dew. The day I get to purchase my Dew from the vending machine is what I can only relate to as Christmas when I was younger. I wasn't even going to wait for a while before the purchasing and inevitable consumption began. As soon as I clocked in, I headed straight for the back of the ambulance bays, my eyes locked on the light emanating through the stiff plastic logo of the soda incubator. Oh sweet luscious mana of heaven, I thought upon reaching the towering machine. I glance over my shoulders to make sure we're alone and stretch out my arms embracing it in a long, yet surprisingly satisfying hug. Getting lost in the moment I realize I have the correct amount of currency to release this locked liquid crack. Digging through my pockets, I throw unneeded items aside, gloves, spare pens, my junk drive all just to grab the loose change sitting with in its depths.
In my palm sits the key to happiness, I begin to slide my change in the slot of the machine. A quarter followed by another, followed by a few dimes. All was going great until this stationary bipolar vending machine turned on me. Clank I hear as a dime falls down the return shoot. I grab and reinsert. Clank I hear as it falls again. Temperamental piece of crap I think as I try a nickel. Clank, Clank, Clank as it spits out Sixty of the dollar ten it had already been given. The tiny LED marquee reading, Balance: 0.00, "What the hell" I exclaimed "Worthless piece of...Rotten, no good son of a....." Locked within the belly of this beast sits my hard earned, some one else's misplaced, change.
The fit of rage that ensued is not appropriate for all readers. I ended up losing to an inanimate object, out smarted at a game I obviously had no idea we were playing, by a soda machine.
Like the title implies, Ain't this The Glorious Life.