PRIVATE DICK.

February 23, 2007

I wrote this one out of sheer frustration—and a creeping sense of violation. The job already demands so much: your time, your sleep, your sanity. But it shouldn’t demand your privacy. That week, I was sick and off-duty, and that should’ve been the end of it. Instead, some investigator decided to play shadow games—digging through records, pulling dispatch info, calling in-laws—all to serve a subpoena for a call I could barely remember. It wasn’t just intrusive, it was personal. I don’t walk around with “Paramedic” stamped on my forehead. Off-duty, I’m just a regular guy trying to live a quiet life. Writing this post was my way of drawing the line—because if we can’t have boundaries in this job, what the hell is left?