I have never truly owned a job the closest I can come to it is when I did volunteer work at the OSU medical center at Doan Hall. I was stationed at the PPRC (post procedure recovery center) and was given assignments akin to what might be expected of an orderly whether it be wheeling patients from place to place or assembling Blood Test kits or even compiling charts for the doctors. It was a rather quiet place sometimes eerily so the halls would echo with the beeps and whistles of the various machines, and long silent corridors would suddenly come alive, as MDs would stealthily dash through the halls like thieves in the night and whisk certain patients away on there beds into elevators never to return. But not all was so lifeless as I managed to overhear some amusing things from the patients and nurses.
One such occasion was when I was tasked with taking an out going patient to his car. He was an elderly man at first glance he appeared weathered his skin like tanned leather. I assumed he was a farmer of some sort as he was clad in blue jeans and a plaid button up shirt that drew up pictures in my mind of people I had seen on TV working farmland. As we strolled over to the parking garage his wife called out to him,
“Ted do you remember where we parked the car” she said,
“yeah number 32 didn’t you look” he replied,
“of course I looked its not there” she fired back,
“well maybe you’re looking in the wrong place” he answered.
She gave us both an exasperated look and stormed off toward the cars
“women I tell ya” he said silently as held his head, “ better not scratch my truck that’s all know”. He murmured a few more things to himself before a large black Chevy pulled up in front of us, “about time” he said as he stepped out of the wheelchair, he and his wife continued to quarrel as they both got in and eventually drove off, I remember thinking to myself I cant believe Im not getting paid for this.