J biggz and the swagmanian Devils

So recently I have embarked on an effort to expel some type of athletic activity. What this means is that my fat ass started playing flag football with a group of his drinking buddies and much more serious athletes. 

I am number 69 for obvious reasons

CMON out they said. It will be fun they said. At first it was, I had no clue what my out of shape ass was getting into. I'm thinking that these are gonna be games of "hee-haw" with the fuck around gang. Boy was I in over my head. The games are beyond fast paced and loaded with real athletes. Now I don't mean like guys that played on high school. I'm talking guys that excelled in the ncaa. 

The first week felt great but it took me almost a week to recover from me getting my ass beat. I even suffered a nice shin to shin contact that left my leg deformed in such a way that the ER docs didn't know what to make of it. Impressive right? 

One thing that this league has given me is the ability to see how long it takes me to bounce back from

Injury and games. A feeling I haven't felt in close to 9 years. 

There was a certain thrill that came along with playing on the offensive line. A place that I felt very comfortable and was good at until I became plagued with injuries. I really did miss the excitement and fun I had playing in the cold weather and just having fun on the team. 

The lessons I learned back then were something that I have taken with me and that I use everyday. Everyone has a job to do and we only reach success when everyone works together. The line, the quarterback, the backs, and receivers all need to keep each other in check or nothing is achieved. The same way the BLS, ALS, Chiefs, staff, engines, trucks, squads, and most importantly dispatch all need to be working on the same page in order to accomplish anything. 

I really do need to thank my parents for having me participate in team sports. They teach a valuable lesson that I think has faded Away over the course of generations. Growing up there was no participation trophy for losing. If you lost, you were the losers. It was simple. There was no pats on the back. You took what happened and you learned from it. Coach didn't say do better next time, you took initiative to watch the film and see what YOU did wrong and how YOU could learn from it. These people are usually identifies as those who will own up to their mistakes and learn from them. Something that many people cannot do, they simply look to point fingers elsewhere. 

I guess what I am saying is that im glad to be back on the field. No matter how much it hurts in the end. 

Why do you work so much?

As I sit in the truck during my 6th of 14 days in a row of working, It dawns on me. The ever popular question that I am asked so often. Why do you have so many jobs? When do you have time for fun? It's a conversation that my partner and I shared several weeks ago when he was having relationship problems. I have finally taken a step back and asked myself the question.

The answer to this is that work gives you a place of refuge. Similar to fishing or sailing for other people, where one can focus all of their attention on what they are doing. It gives them thing that requires so much effort, they don't have any time to think about anything else. This is the same phenomenon. 

Over the last few years I have noticed that my relationships with family and girlfriends have all taken severe nosedives. In an effort to avoid any hostility or confrontation, I would simply pick up an open shift at work. Why? Because it gives me the ability to get my mind off of things and it gives the other party time away from me. A fair balance right? I thought so. The less you'd have to deal with me the better.

The only issue with this mindset is that It doesn't make anything better. It's a temporary fix. This is a band aid, a patch kit, a cover up. Once work is over, you know the argument is waiting for you. So what can you do now. You thought you had it all figured out... Why didn't it work? 

Because although it may get you out of the problem temporarily, more often than not, it's still going to be there when you get out. At the same time where you feel that you may be escaping the issue, you may be just making things worse for yourself at the same time. You may be tied up on that call and you're unable to say that thing you had to get off your chest. Not to say that you wouldn't necessarily have missed out on the opportunity otherwise, but it is a factor. 

I myself have 4-5 jobs at any given moment. I have one full time and 3-4 per diem jobs. Why is this? My answer is simple. I cannot sit idle. I have to be doing something. I need to keep moving. I would rather work around the clock than sit around and wonder "what if?" Don't get me wrong. I enjoy my time off, especially when I have plans made. We all do.  It's when plans fall through or I have no plans at all where I feel like I am just wasting time. It's the fear of the unknown and not being able to adapt to change. Instead of sitting on the couch I could be making money. 

As for having time for fun? Ha! There is no fun for those that don't earn it. There is nothing that irks me greater than seeing people that barely work, and then bitch and moan about how they NEED a vacation. How they can barely survive their 18 hour a week job without needing a get away. The sad reality is that these people aren't escaping their stress. They are trying to escape the sad reality that their life has become. In my opinion(and that's why I started a blog), vacations should be earned. Those who break their asses deserve vacations or rewards. Those who sit and bitch about how it's hard to hold down a job for more than a month have absolutely no business near an airport of cruise ship. 

Granted I have my own reasons that have sculpted me into the work-a-holic that I am today. I refused to be backed into a corner and not have a way out. I can successfully, and can proudly admit, I have been able to keep my head above the water thus far. Although it is not easy in any way at all, I am doing. I often joke about the how I have to pay for the mistake I made called college. Student loans are a crippling but sad reality. It all comes full circle when you realize you pay more a month in student loans a month than you do for your rent or car payment. But I'm here and I'm alive. I am tired, beaten, broken down, and defeated...but I'm alive. 

But this is not a forever thing. This is temporary or so they say it is. In the meantime I will continue to work all of my jobs and make ends meet. Until the phone rings with that new job where I won't have to work so much. 

I wish my mind could forget what my eyes have seen...

It has been an emotional roller coaster since the last time I have written. For some fuck known reason, I chose to make excuses about everything that had happened. There were many ups and downs at work, and it knocked me on my ass. In national news, a police officer was shot and killed. This resulted in a threat towards us EMTs. These actions caught us all off guard and we suddenly went from being the heroes, to the targets. For the first time in my ems career and working in jersey city, I felt a fear for my life.

The subsequent days became longer. It was a mad scramble by all of our team to try and secure yourself a bullet proof vest. Your news feed and phone are flooded with messages of rumors and potential threats against you. What is real? What is a hoax? What is someone just looking to get you excited? Deep down you know it's just everyone looking out for your best interest. But it gets to a point where you really don't want to hear it anymore. You become tired of seeing the warnings, yet you never let that constant worry out of the back of your mind. You keep your head on a constant swivel, and you realize one thing... That the town you loved so well, has all changed in the blink of an eye.

Your normal bullshitting around with your partner before the shift, turns into a discussion of what you heard may be going down and making sure that each other's vests are fitting correctly. Now as you get into the truck, you realize more than ever, that it's real now, and you may not come home. 

You become vigilant, almost to the point of paranoia. People who you would walk by on the street, are suddenly a possible threats. You can no longer go grab the casual cup of coffee at 7-11, without having to keep your back against the wall. You no longer park your vehicle in an area where someone may approach it from an unknown area. Your fatigue level goes into overdrive. You're fighting to keep your eyes open and the act of remaining vigilant wears you out. You think it's all over with, and you realize that you are only 2 hours in. There is still 10 to go. 

You struggle to sit comfortable in your truck. And you begin to realize the things that are more difficult do. For example, it is really difficult to take a shit with a vest on. It's also a real pain in the ass to bend over to pick up small objects. But this is your life now. Some people have chose to stop wearing them, and that's their right to do so. I know the partnership that I have, we both wear ours, despite them being very hot and uncomfortable. 

But again, this has become the normal around town. You are faced with the moral difficulty of wearing Kevlar to work, not because you want to. It helps those who don't know what you see. The family and friends who care about you, that you know you couldn't ever tell what you have seen. And that if you ever did, it would give them nightmares. They would never be able to shake. 

All night, you ponder: Why should we do this? We are the good guys! We are the ones who help people! Why are we suddenly targets? It's not supposed to work this way!

Unfortunately, there is no time to stop and think about these kinda of things. You just have to strap on your boots and go to work. There's no time to be scared, there is a job to be done. In reality, Most of us have all accepted our fate in that if we get taken out on the job, it was just in the cards that way. However, you put it on everyday for your loved ones in hopes that they will be able to sleep a little easier until you walk back in that door. 

god damn dispatchers.

It is a very warm summer night, a night that is strange for this time of year. Normally this time of year, there is an increase in shootings and stabbings. One thing that I have learned in this profession is that nobody can ever seem to just “get along” with one another. If the weather is nice then people feel the need to go outside. When people go outside they have a few cocktails. When they have a few cocktails they go one of two ways. The first way, is that they consume booze to the point they fall down and someone calls acting as the Good Samaritan. The other way is that they continue to drink, run their mouth, and eventually get assaulted for offending someone. Moral of the story, don’t attend your funeral as a man named Phil Shiffley.

Also as I continue to sit here, I noticed that I have never really spoke about the unsung heroes and the worst and most hated people in any service based industry. We call these terrible individuals the dispatchers. No don’t get me wrong, there are some very very phenomenal telecommunicators here. There are also some not so good dispatchers here. What is the difference you might ask? Great question!

First off the dispatcher is the most despised person for a simple reason. They are the person who tells you were to go and what to do. When you are tired and you want a break, it is the dispatchers fault as to why a call came in. When you want to dodge jobs, and hide, it’s the dispatcher’s fault for seeing what you are doing on their maps and stop you. When you don’t want to pick up a certain regular that you have taken every day for the last 3 weeks, it will be the dispatcher’s fault that you happened to be a block away when the call comes in. No matter what the dispatcher does or says, unless they are cancelling a unit off of an assignment or telling the unit they are clear to return for shift change, you are the bad guy.

Now luckily for me, I am one of the few people here that are cross trained, meaning that I work the street normally, but will be occasionally pull up to dispatched when short staffed, or whenever a crafty plan is devised by supervisors to benefit themselves. (we do what makes them happy). The one thing that I see being a cross trained dispatcher is seeing all of my co-workers react to what the dispatchers say, forgetting that I myself am a dispatcher. Now I know that there is more than a fair share of shit talking about me when I am on the mic. Nobody wants to be working their ass off, nor do we want to make anyone have to break their ass. Sadly, there is still a job to be done.

In my few years of being up here, I can easily say that I am left more drained after a 12 hour dispatcher shift, than I am after working a busy night on the streets. Why? The type of work is completely different. On any given night the dispatcher is responsible for not only screening 911 calls, gathering vitals information, keeping in contact with all the units on the street, dispatching the units, and making sure everyone is safe. All of these things are occurring simultaneously, your eyes are jumping between 5 screens. Your ears are listening to units step on one another while they all attempt to broadcast their message. You are trying to send the closest available unit to an assignment based on what a computer tells you is the closest, yet your street smarts kick in, knowing that there are other units are closer. The phone rings constantly to the point you feel like you are in the movie Casino and your head is being beat in by Billy Sherbert.

After 12 hours of this, you feel like death. You feel like you won’t make it home to your bed. Youre day is shot and you are left with nothing. Now how does all of this tie in together? The difference between a good dispatcher and someone who sits behind a console? The good dispatcher is always a step ahead of the units on the street. They understand the units, they understand the tendencies and they understand how people operate. They know how people are going to sit on scene for 25 minutes after they left the patient. They know who their go to units are, and who they can send on special assignments and things will be handled the proper way. Now as you read this, you may or may not understand of what I speak. And that’s fine. Anyone who has worked a busy system knows exactly what I am saying.

On the other side of the card, there are people who simply read what is on their screen. These are the people that will dispatch the “train accident” in the 3^rd floor apartment. It takes a certain amount of thinking. It is also why it is important that the dispatcher knows the area of which they dispatch. Again, this results in sending a unit to the 30^th floor in an area of 2 story houses. No in some cases the dispatchers catch on to what is happening and they are able to grow and develop. Other dispatchers are similar to stapling jello to the wall, it’s never going to stick.

One thing that is upsetting is the abuse that the dispatchers take for doing their job. They occasionally receive a pat on the back. More often than not, they are being reprimanded for not getting a unit to the scene fast enough, or they are having their heads chewed off by a caller who feels that her toe pain warrants a life threatening response from our units. But night after night the battle wages on. Dispatch does their job the way they are trained and the street units yell and take every assignment personally. It’s the ying and the yang of EMS. If we didn’t have this, the world may implode.

Support.

It has been a very few hectic weeks that have taken quite a toll on my blogging and life in general. I've been finding it's harder than normal to get out of bed and actually accomplish anything. It's been an uphill battle of sleepless nights, insanely long shifts, and an emotional roller coaster not even the best could stick the ride out on. 

This feeling of shortcoming (and dare I say failure) really leaves you with a sense of doubt and wonder why you even carry on. Why not pack it in? Why not just give up and settle for something else? This got me thinking about something, and that thing is support. More often than not you see people get their big break and they disappear. They are gone,and never look back. These people become characters of your war stories, since you never see them. You can't fault these people either. Maybe they are in a relationship that they are very committed to. Or perhaps they are starting a career and have their hands full. This is one of the sad realities of life. It feels as if they leave all those who were close to them behind. And I said to myself, that's not who I want to be. And that's certainly not who I was raised to be. 

With my head going into overdrive. I began thinking about all those who support me, those who look up to me, those who ride my coat-tails, and those who pride themselves on hating my game. Which by the way they people who hate on you are your biggest fans. They are angry and have a jealousy that they aren't you. 

But then there are those people that keep coming back. The people who will leave your life, and that you think are gone forever. And then they waltz back in. It has always made me wonder why? And then it dawned on me that everyone has a phenomenal support system and you never realize. No matter how bad you may fuck everything up, there will always be those few people that will have your back when all else fails. You may not speak to these people everyday but they are out there and have your back. 

For example, I have my family and that's a whole different kind of support. Your family knows you and they want to see you do well. However what makes a great family is one that will tell you when you are screwing up or about to make a huge mistake. "No really mom, you don't understand, Mexico is a totally safe place for tattoos!" Right. Sometimes you need to shut your mouth and listen to what your family has to say. The most important people in my opinion are the people that aren't family, yet you hold them closer than any family member. 

One example is a friend that I have that links my past back to me and brings everything full circle. I can go to this person with any crazy misadventure I have and it will bring us back to our times shared in high school. Good and bad times, happy and not so happy events. This is the same person that I can recommend a song to in as simple as a few words in a text message and they will return with something just as good if not better. 

I have my friend who took me under his wing years ago and assumed the role as a mentor of mine. Over the last several years has grown an awesome friendship and some really great times shared. Working on all types of projects. All types of road trips and tons of misadventures have been a blast and certainly a learning experience. 

These are the types of things that as society we need to sit back and appreciate. Too many of us are caught up in the things we have or the place we may be in our lives and we forget to stop and appreciate what we do have and the people that support us through the rough times. 

A plumber, a landscaper, and an EMT walk into a bar...

Those who know me, know that I I take my jobs very seriously. I know the difference when it is time to play and time to be serious. I know when to crack a joke to cut the tension and when to stand my ground. This is something that many people don't know. I get upset when I am viewed poorly in the eyes of my managers because I understand that it is my reputation in the line. 

Lately I seem to be I the wrong place at the wrong time. I have become the patron EMT of unruly patients. Not to that this isn't happening to my colleagues as well but I have been a total shit magnet lately. I haven't been going out of my way to start issues with people or patients. I've been courteous and empathetic. Everyone has those patients that are uncooperative or the ones that have crazy requests. Lately I have been getting the young adult on then 4th floor who needs to be carried out of the house because their shoulder hurts. Then they don't want to sit still while being carried, causing my partner and I to get hurt in the process of trying to satisfy the patient or as I refer to them customers. 

The reason I refer to them as customers is because they are people calling for a service. The same way that  one would call roto-rooter or a landscaper. That's right, I believe that my job is no more important than a plumber or a landscaper. In the grand scheme of it, I think that they may have it better. 

Take the plumber for instance. A plumber wakes up every morning and realizes that he is probably going to have to deal with shit. Everyday he will more than likely deal with shit. But the plumber makes a great deal of money for his skill as a plumber. And that plumber knows that when he lays his head down at night, and when he wakes up, he will deal with shit. Maybe more than today, maybe less, but he cannot escape the shit. 

In the case of the landscaper, they are artists of nature. They have the ability to take a jungle of a yard and turn it into a beautiful land. However, the landscaper is going to have to spread a great deal of bull shit in order to make that yard grow. 

Now in the case of ems, we get to be treated like shit. Spit on, kicked, punched, and assaulted. Police and fire are protected by laws where this is assumed to be a hazard of a healthcare workers job. Pretty fucked up right? Makes cleaning shitty pipes look like a vacation. 

We get patients who call and feel that you are their personal servants, and will actually file complaints about you when you don't spend your time feeding their cat. They will then yell at you for doing it wrong. It's the parts of public service where people feel that you are there to wait on their every need that just makes me want to sand boats for a living. Then if you don't fulfill their wildest requests, they make complaints. Then you as the employee get reprimanded for not doing your job when It was something that your not required to do. 

It's a sad reality that was brought up best in "office space". Now granted the movie was about working in an office, but it relates to almost every job out there. For example, similar to office space, I have 9 bosses. That means when I screw up, I have to hear about it 9 times. 

After a while of getting beaten down you eventually hit your limit and stop trying to work hard or go the extra mile. You just do the minimal amount of work to keep you from getting reprimanded. As an employee I have always felt that you should make yourself valuable so that you will be an asset to your company. Where now It's become obvious that you are easily replaceable and that they can hire any shlub to do your job. That's a sad reality but a reality non the less. 

This does nothing but breed a force of people only willing to do the bare minimum. Why should work hard, when you're just going to be beaten down? This is a sad reality because I know so many brilliant minds that can offer so many great things to the world, and they have been discouraged to the point that they couldn't care less. 

It suddenly turns us all into Dante and Randall's. People who go through the motions, work at their respective counters, and go home. No passion, no caring, because it's only going to bite you in the ass. Why should I offer up my good ideas so my boss can take the credit, and I'll get burned? 

Back in 2007, while attending fire school I was given a bit of advice that sticks with me everyday. This line of work is filled with two types of people. Heroes and assholes. 

Now when the instructor told us this the class laughed thinking that there's no way that's how it works. Here we are thinking that we have it all figured out. But he was absolutely right in what he said. He said the people that are covered in citation bars are the the dumb ones. These are the people who disregarded their own safety for the sake of someone else. That's all well and good and you dodged a bullet on that one. 

But the heroes that we are talking about are not necessarily those that save the bus of orphans but the people that happen to be in the right place at the righty time. They get their quick fame and they feel good. People congratulate them and they feel good. They get a high, they get their name or maybe their picture in the paper. And that's your 15 minutes of fame. They are the ones who went out of their way and received their special award or they happened to be at the right time. 

On the other side of the coin is the asshole. The person who fucks up or ruins it for everyone else. The guy who accidentally runs over a stairchair the same night he has his hero moment of delivering a baby. 

The world is full of heroes and assholes. Sadly you have have 100 heroic moments, but that one asshole moment, is the one you will always be remembered by. 

The bribe....

As I write this I am crammed in the backseat of a Honda accord coupe. I have learned one fact. There is nobody that can comfortably fit in the backseat of a honda accord coupe. Every attempt I have had thus far of exiting this vehicle looks similar to that of a play-doh fun factory. 

It was quite a weekend. I chose to embark on a trip to Washington, D.C. In an effort to escape the everyday stress. Boy was that a trip. Ended up playing the odd man out being that I was mixed with a group of close friends and I was extra wheel. Not to be out down. I was able to tie one on and make a trip for myself. 

As much as I hate giving other people credit, and the last person I hate giving credit to is my partner Greg Gill, I'm afraid I must. The other evening, a rather intellectual conversation transporting in the cab of our bus. 

Society as a whole is doomed and it's sad. People are afraid to make relationships, and parents are afraid to let kids outside. As I was walking through Alexandria earlier today, I witnessed a woman attempting to coerce her son to get in his strolled with the promise of getting to play with the iphone. If your kid is isn't out if a stroller they should have no knowledge of what an iphone is. None the less what it is capable of doing. For some reason I found this very disgusting. 

I know that it's not okay to hit your kids and that's all well and good. That's part of why kids are such little assholes.  I can proudly say that my dad used to beat the living piss out of me if i fucked up. And they hurt. They were meant to. And his dad would crack him one upside the head if he fucked up too. Now I'm sure some hippy liberal parents who let their kids call the shots are saying that this was really wrong of my dad. Fear not, my mother was normally waiting by the ropes for her turn to be tagged in. 

The point of this is that it made me a disciplined person. If I mouthed off I wasn't sent to "think" about what I did. I was raised to say please and thank you. I was raised to get in the car, put your seatbelt on and shut the fuck up. I was raised to speak when spoken to, and to appreciate what you have. Or else! 

As a matter of fact I learned at a very young age to appreciate everything I was given as a young lad who decided that he no longer needed his dad anymore. I couldn't be any older then 5ish. My father called my bluff and said that's fine, you can leave my house now. As I was leaving he told me that the clothes on my back were his, not mine, I Didn't pay for those. He did. So my stubborn ass stripped down to my underwear and hit the road. And I stood on that porch on Hoboken road, during a cold winter day. It wasn't until my mom yelled for fear of being reported to the police I was let back in the house. From that point on I never saw a reason to bitch and moan about the things that I have. 

Now I know that parenting is a give and take thing. I'm aware that parents need to choose there battles and almost all kids are small germ factories/ terrors. Their hands are always sticky with something and they love to share. But I don't think that it's that hard difficult to use a phone as a means of bribing a kid. What happened to the days of a handful of Cheerios being a good enough incentive to behave? 

To those parents who raise their parents the old fashioned way I salute you. You let your kids cry it out, and you tell them no. You realize that parenting is a dictatorship and not a democracy. You are a dying breed but keep up the good work. The future depends on it.