The "break" Room

On an almost daily basis, I find myself letting my imagination run wild when thinking about material items that I will treat myself to once I finally make it. In fact, there is a game that my girlfriend and I play called, “when I build my house…” The game is simple, when an idea comes to mind, you then say that is what will be put inside your dream house. For example, I always say that when I build my house it’s going to have a 4 car garage. Two bays for my everyday vehicles, one bay for hanging out and projects, and one for my project car that I will be restoring in my free time. This is in addition to my man-cave, which at this point will be all the inane shit that I have collected and currently display in the museum I call an apartment. Then I will also have a large shed that opens up to entertain in my large yard. This will accompany the large fire pit area. The game goes on and on. After I meet all the needs for everything that I will have planned, I realize that I might as well buy a sleazy jersey shore motel and attempt to live in that with my crazy fantasies.

All joking aside, one thing that has come to the realization as I have grown up, is how valuable a helping hand is. The apartment that I am currently living in, has an amazing landlord, a nice set up, and all the accommodations’ that a young person trying to make it and live the "American Scheme" would need. It is well furnished with the furniture that does not match, decorated with art that amuses me, kitchen gadgets that are far from a set, and a collection of firefighting memorabilia. My rent is generously low and the way that I view it, it was given a major gift. If I was in better financial position, I would eliminate the need for a roommate and keep the apartment to myself. But I am not, so here I sit and write another blog.

Check out my new coat hook... Nifty eh?

Being that I feel that my apartment was a gift, I have done by best to continue to pass that gift on along to others that are in need of a helping hand. Over the last several years living in Jersey City, I have had a few different faces come and go. More often than not, I try to offer the room I have to someone that is in need of assistance. Some have been down on their luck and going through life changes, some have been going through divorces, some were trying to start a new career, and a few were looking to make it on their own. Whatever the case may be, I have always tried to use the apartment as a means of helping others.

Which then dawned on me, when I build that house with all the rooms. I plan to build the “break room” (and no, I am not referring to dispatch). Now it’s not your average break room with that over-weight weird guy from accounting that always seems to be constantly microwaving left overs. Nor will it have sexual harassment and right-to-know posters on the wall. No, my break room is for a different kind of break. It will be about lending someone a hand when their back is up against the ropes and they have nowhere to go. Whether it be a friend, family, a colleague, or just someone who needs a place to crash for a while so they can get on their feet, there will be a place for them to rest their head. (DON’T TELL MARE! About this plan! She doesn't know yet!)

In this line of work, and by line of work, I mean in public safety, there is a very high rate of divorce and separation. As if the stress of that isn’t enough, you have to still support a family, while having to have a place over your head. My plan is to be that helping hand. To be the safe haven, that just when you think you have nowhere else to turn to, someone comes and bails you out.  Granted, I speak highly of this now, with no crystal ball to see into my future. For all that I know I may be in need of someone else’s break room, but here's to wishful thinking.

I hope that those who read this, become inspired to help someone else out in a way they may not normally consider. More often than not we find ourselves throwing money at the problem rather than fixing it. I feel that we as a society have become more caught up with taking a selfie with tragedy and despair, rather than be willing to lend a helping hand and help out the fellow man. One thing that was instilled to me as a “yout” and further emphasized in high school was to give and not count the cost. I guess that’s why I still volunteer for some unknown reason. I am in no means saying that you should open up a homeless shelter, but if you know someone in need, and you have some extra space or some way that you can help them out, don’t hesitate to do so. I'm sure someone else with appreciate it, and if nothing else you score a roommate/live in drinking buddy. So you'll have that going for you, which is nice...

I left my hair in hoboken....

Granted it’s not as meaningful as, “I left my heart in San Francisco”, but what does make sense in this blog? Nothing really. It's a statement that is almost like a trophy. Kind of like, "I left it all out on the field". With the exception of leaving an ill fitting fashion prothstetic on the streets of a hudson county city. But hey, you go girl! 

Recently, I was approached by a new guy (who from this point forward shall be referred to as, “new guy”). New guy tries to casually start a discussion during his field training. He started with, “So I have heard a lot about you…”, and I must say, I wasn’t that surprised. I have gained myself quite a reputation as the funny guy, the a-hole, the smart ass, the guy who has no filter, as well as being the most handsome 26 year old man this area has ever seen. When I ask "new guy" how he heard about me, he mentioned a name of another EMS professional that I have never heard of. Here I am thinking that he has heard of me from a party, or some convention where I was whoring myself out by aggressively networking with who I hoped were all the right people. On the contrary, new guy tells me that he had heard that I write an EMS blog and that it apparently has quite a following. I reply with a subtle, “NO SHIT! Don’t bullshit me kid!”

(As I type this, there is a new show about swingers playing in the background. I must say, that I find it quite amusing yet awkward watching these couples wife swap with total strangers in a bar. The face of the bartender watching them spank one another was pretty priceless. Either way, pardon if it appears this was written by a complete scatter brains.)

The news knocked me for a loop. I don’t write this for anyone but myself. Not to sound selfish but I have used this as a place for me to blow off steam. Mainly because you really can’t get away with running outside and screaming your lungs out anymore. Damn local noise ordinance laws and everyone’s hypersensitivity to people having mental breakdowns, has really put a damper on it. 

But would anyone really blame the guy who goes outside and just starts screaming? I wouldn’t, not at all, hell i'd probably join his as he attempts to scream it out in effort to keep it all together. As humans we need that good release of pent up energy. Growing up they tell you to “punch a pillow” or “count to ten”. This gets us absolutely nowhere with the exception of being able to build on the fundamentals of southpaw and becoming masters of 10 digits sequences.

So where does that leave us as people? What do we do when we have hit our breaking point? Well, as Disney has so conveniently drilled into our brains, "let it go". In the case of myself, and those who know me attest, when I become pissed, I tend to rant. Not just a little rant, I make sure those immediately around me know how I feel and then I am fine. Once I get it out of my system, I look back and laugh about it. Then I realize that my behavior was that of a horse’s ass, and I progress forward.

For others, this is not so easy. Many people have their vices and I cannot blame them for that. Some turn to drugs and alcohol to cope with their stresses. Some lose their stresses by walking it off. Some choose exercise (not me), but some people think that is a good way to expel stress.

Now I know you all are sitting back and thinking, “Well Joe, if you say that you rant as a way of stress relief, why do you write?” And that is a great question. I write because I can. I have found that putting your thoughts and ideas on paper or in this case the web, leaves a legacy. It gives you the opportunity to look back and see how far you have come. For me I can look back and see how I am not nearly as stressed and have less to worry about in my life. It also works as a way for me to shed excess baggage silently when there is nobody to talk to.

So now the steam is pretty much clear from this otherwise shitty night. I didn’t get my way at work and I was put in less than ideal circumstances due to what some would say are “life choices I made in the past”. That makes it sound like I used to live a life of drugs and crime, not stepping up and getting my dispatcher certification. (Crazy how certain phrases can be interpreted eh?) So I threw my hissy fit, expressed my dissatisfaction with my coworkers, had my rant, and sat dead silently at my console.

I suffered through the rest of my shift in a room that makes me beyond uncomfortable, listening to the grinding of an antique space heater, making a dangerous grinding noise as if disaster is lurking immediately around the corner. The kind of machine that looks like the cause of a house fire. A loud grinding noise similar to that of a 2-stroke weed whacker engine fills the room, loud enough to drown out the sound of my audio book that I was quite interested in. Which if I could make a recommendation, Simon Rich’s, Man Seeking Woman: and other love stories. It is a hilarious look at dating in this day and age, and some funny ass stories about the insecurities of moving on past a relationship. Quite comical.

Well I think this concludes my rant. I have been slacking on my blogging lately. It has been taking its toll on me and I honestly have been too lazy and busy feeling sorry for myself. So let it be known that I will attempt to be a much less lazy ass and keep writing more. In the meantime, I’m going to go practice my yoga, align my chi, and really focus on my flexibility. Not just the flexibility of this fortress of a body, but my mind, and spirit as well. Namaste. 

"I didn't ask for this beer, but I'll accept it anyway"...or somethinglike that. A scene from outside healys tavern and an agreement to makeit the next blog title.

Things have been quite an up and down of events but, neither fun yet exciting. As usual, life has been plagued by the adventures and  exciting times on the bus. Recently, my promotion as a field training officer has been in overdrive. I have been doing my part to mold the future of the organization. In doing this I have been delivered a severe blow as to what the future holds. 

As I am always reluctant to do, I must give thanks to my parents and coaches growing up for turning me into the man I am today. I can only wish that today's youth could have such a guiding light, because.... DAYUM! 

We have approached two polar opposites of the new employee who has entered not only this organization but society as a whole. There are the obedient and respectful. And there are those who feel they are entitled and need to be put into place. 

The respectful are few and far between, but much appreciated. When given information they accept it and remember it for what it is. They are willing to ask questions and not just assume things on their own. They have manners not only for their coworkers but their superiors as well. They make working a breeze and it makes the job so much more meaningful.

As far as the entitled, they have made working an utter nightmare. They have it all figured out despite not seeing a thing. They want to drive when they are clueless about the response area. Yet they act like we should consider ourselves blessed to be in their presence. 

I wish I could say that this was a thing when I was their age, but only a few short years ago it wasn't. I was raised by people who taught you how to behave, when to speak, and when to keep your mouth shut. We had discipline. We knew not to show up to a job interview in a pair of jogging pants and sneakers. 

(And yes that really happened.)

Now lets take a second and look at what is going on here... At what point in any one of our lives were we told that sweatpants were acceptable to wear to a job interview? Hell, I freak out if my suit is not absolutely perfect when I arrive for an entrance exam. Granted I look like 10 points of shit in a 5 pound bag, but I atleast make an effort. Then the real kick in the ass is when you see the "specimen" that had barely had his shit together when going through the hiring process on the truck going to a working fire, and youre on the sidelines with your jump bag and a yellow helmet that clearly says, "I'm still waiting for my shot to move out of this job!"

The youth of America lacks discipline. They were never told the word know and they don't understand rejection. I find it amazing that this is how things have played out. Maybe it's just how I was raised but we really have gone down a horrible path. 

Where have we gone wrong as a society? Why does it feel like those with common sense are the ones who finish last? Why does it feel like those who are in positions of authority are lacking intelligence. Granted, not all those in leadership positions are, but I've found a great deal of those who are put in control of serious responsibility have a difficult time with basic life skills. I don't mean life skills like math and reading, but more so on a primitive level. Skills such as breathing, walking, or sitting down without injuring themselves. 

A perfect example of this is when I need to obtain transcripts from the college in which I graduated from. Many of those who work there cannot execute basic tasks nor can they function without the direct orders of a supervisor. That is scary knowing that these are the people who run out higher education. Which is proof that those that make it through college bear no weight at all on society. God only knows the Rhode Scholars that are running admissions. I would assume they spend most of the day coloring pretty pictures for mommy and daddy to hang on the fridge. 

I've quickly come realize our future is doomed and I know why the elderly are so angry at the youth of today. I think we are doomed. But in the meantime, I will continue to try and keep the future of EMS alive and well. Weeding out the those who are not cut out of this line of work, and those who just seem to take to this job, like a duck to water.

Now I know this doesn't solely apply to EMS, everyone has that person they work with that they feel only had gotten their job because someone had felt really bad for them. Or that they may be part of a employment aid program giving people jobs in a half-assed attempt to help the economy, knowing whole-heartedly they will blow their entire paychecks on sour patch kids and video games. You know, those who really need and can appreciate the title that they hold... But until then we all keep out heads held high and spew lies of optimism through out teeth. We give Oscar worthy acts of excitement for these organisms as we pull the emotional knife from out abdomens and continue to press on. However, one day our call will come, and then we will have the chance to serve under the kid who interviewed in sweatpants.