An EMT

                                    

                                          
"Blythe. An EMT? What would you do with all that?"
A guy who barely knows me, who I thought respected me at least a little bit,
Said that to me. 
"It sounds like a lot. All the drama, all the injuries."
Like I wouldn't be able to handle it. 
For a bit, any kindness I had built towards him was gone. I respected him, as he's been in the food industry a lot longer than I have, and he's learned quickly. I thought he was having genuine conversations with me. Any oddities in his tone were filed away in my mind as part of his personality. 
But part of me knows now what he probably thinks of me. He probably thinks I'm controlling and too much of a perfectionist. I say this because lately, due to an influx of new people at work and a lot of more experienced people quitting, I've had to try and step it up.
Maybe I should have just stayed in my place. 
It's infuriating, to know that apparently every time I've said I'd love a promotion, asked our assistant manager to talk to the gm, it never once reached his ears. 
But that's fine. I'm leaving soon anyway.
Last EMT shifts are gonna be done before the end of October. 
I'm so done with that place, even though I know they probably need me. 
I'll stick around as a part time if I need it.
"On second thought, I could see you as one."
What?
"An EMT. I could see you as one."
Oh.