503, IFT

My first job on an ambulance is for a small company who only does 911 response in my tiny town. I love it. My partner and I don’t have personalities that work well together and I still love it. We respond to emergency calls as well as interfacility transfers, so if a patient at one hospital needs to be taken to another hospital where they have specialty equipment we’ll transport them. When we get a transfer it gets texted to us on the work phone and then we go over the radio to alert dispatch that we will be out of service for a transfer.

The ambulance I’m on is 503.  Once or twice a shift when we get these transfers, all I need to do is get on the radio and say, “503, IFT.”

For whatever reason, this is really hard for me.  I can’t handle the fact that it rhymes and how official it feels on the radio.  It makes me want to laugh to the point that I have a hard time getting the words out, and the fact that it is not less funny to me over time makes me want to laugh even more.  

Every time - there is something about having that radio in my hand, and mentally prepping my serious voice, and starting to actually speak and hearing myself, that as soon as the first word comes out of my mouth my face distorts as I try to keep from cracking up.

Because this is recurrent, I practice saying it quietly a few times to myself before I push the button on the radio.

“What is your problem?” My partner asks. He’s not entertained.

“Nothing dude, I just think it’s funny, OK, give me a second.”

“I’ve seriously never seen anyone have a hard time with this.” He’s actually angry.

I try to ignore him because the fact that he’s getting worked up about something so harmless makes me want to laugh more.

I say it three times fast and then push the button and in a serious, professional voice say, “503, IFT.”

My partner shakes his head at me in annoyance, “God.”

I crack up.

Then, we drive in awkward silence the remaining 23 minutes to the hospital.

“Forty-eight hours with this guy,” I think and imagine that for the first time, we’re thinking the exact same thing. 

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Review

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This story is lighthearted, subtly insightful, and layered with unspoken social tension, capturing the awkward yet relatable dynamics of early professional experiences. On the surface, it reads as a humorous anecdote about workplace mishaps. Beneath that, however, it touches on deeper themes of pressure to conform to professional expectations, emotional restraint in high-stress environments, and the often-unspoken power dynamics between colleagues.

The central theme is the tension between professionalism and human vulnerability. The narrator’s uncontrollable urge to laugh—triggered by something seemingly minor—highlights how our humanity often clashes with institutional expectations of seriousness and composure, especially in high-stress environments like emergency response work.

There’s also an undercurrent of social friction and power imbalance. The expectations of seriousness in high-stress roles are highlighted by the pressure to be “professional” even in moments that don’t matter much can feel suffocating, especially in jobs where stakes are typically high. The narrator’s laughter symbolizes a lighthearted, human reaction to the absurdities of routine. The partner’s irritation, however, reflects the rigidity and emotional detachment often expected in emergency medical services, effectively communicating the silent struggles with fitting in.

The final thought—that both the narrator and partner are silently united in their frustration—reveals an unexpected common ground, even in conflict.