An Open Letter to…

A very green EMT’s who doesn’t realize how green they are.

Hi,  Epi here.  I was the one you claimed to have trained earlier.  (That’s something I’m eager to discuss with you, by the way…)  I worked a shift with you not so long ago.  Maybe you remember me.  I was the obnoxiously tall red head.

A few things.  This is coming from love, by the way.

This job is a profession.  You should act as a professional.  I can put up with a lot, I’ve worked with a good mix of people.  I’m extremely patient.  The one thing that I can’t deal with is someone who makes those of us who take this job seriously look like unprofessional, uncaring morons.  It’s a guilt-by-association kind of thing.  I will NOT put up with that.  Not to sound like your Momma, but you really should know better.

So, in that vein, let me offer you some friendly advice.

Do not use foul language on the scene in the presence of our patient and their family members.  Like I tell my daughter, “Use your words,” and by words I mean the ones that you would hear in G rated movies.

Do not dismiss the family members of my patient in any way.  Yes, I realize that sometimes dealing with Family can be difficult.   What I mean is, do not order the Wife of a Hospice Patient to sit in the front seat.  Do not roll your eyes at me when I tell that Wife that she ABSOLUTELY can ride in back with us.  Do not mumble under your breath when the Wife of our patient is questioning the route that you’re taking, especially if I’m also questioning the route you’re taking.  It was ten miles longer than it needed to be.  That’s all I’m saying.

Arriving at work late and blaming it on the fact that you’re hungover will endear you to no one.

Bitching for the entire shift that the company didn’t need to hire so many “fucking new EMT’s” because you are losing your hours to one of the fucking new EMT’s they just hired (hi, me again) is bad form.

Complaining about the number of runs you’re doing during a simple 8 hour shift is just ridiculous.  It’s EIGHT HOURS for crying out loud.  This is particularly ridiculous when the number of runs is three.  And they’re all transfers.  And you didn’t take any of the patients.  You have no idea what it means to run your ass off.  You wouldn’t have lasted a shift at my last employer.  Note the fact that I didn’t tell you that.  Because it wouldn’t have helped the situation.

Telling your partner (who has ten times the experience that you have) that “You can take all the transfers, but I’m going to fight you on any emergency runs” is going to just piss me off.  Did I say me?  I meant that partner.

No, you’re not my Senior EMT.  Again, we’re going to have to have a little talk.

Honey, the ink on your card isn’t dry yet.  You claim to love this job and the company, and I want to believe you.  People are watching you, dear.  When you put on that uniform and step out your front door you are representing all of us from the first responder on up. You’re representing everyone from our company.  You’re representing everyone in EMS, including me, including some of my very best friends. On the scene, at a hospital, a nursing home, or in someone’s home.  You need to get right with yourself. Right quick and in a hurry.

Look, I haven’t been doing this very long.  I’ll admit it.  I have green and  sparky moments.  I used to be embarrassed by these moments, but my tribe has convinced me that it’s okay.   In this profession there is always something new to learn.  There is no need to put yourself out there as jaded, old and salty when you’re clearly not.  It doesn’t make you one of the cool people.  Trust me on this.

Either knock it the eff off, or TOTWTYTR may have an application you might want to consider.

Respectfully (honestly),

Epi