as the red light turns

I've always wanted to write some type of soap opera based on fire house living called 'As the Red Light Turns' or something like that. There is constantly an interesting, gossipy, or disturbing happening going on usually filled with high octane drama. What I find truly interesting as a female observer at our fire house is that men can and do gossip with the best of them. I've mentioned the saying before that if you want to spread some news around you 'telephone, telegraph or tell a firefighter'. I've tested that theory. And it works better than smoke signals and morse code. What is ironic is that most often the guys who dish it out the most are the ones who can take it the least. I have had my fair share of ribbing... and the way I've survived apart from growing some shoulders and some teflon skin, is to not show any chinks in the armour. Because once they know what gets to you, they'll pick at your scabs until you yell mercy. But I think the only thing worse than getting picked on is not getting picked on. When you're being ignored that's when you know you're in trouble. To be ostracized at the fire house would be an unimaginable fate. You do not want to get kicked off the island. I have seen it happen at other stations and you do not want to be that guy having to put your own flame out 'after the tribe has spoken'.