That night when LITERALLY THE ENTIRE FUCKING CITY OF CALGARY ALBERTA crams into the call queue at once when there are only two people including yourself on Saturday overnight to report flooding and hailstorm damage, because apparently the Western Plains of Canada might as well be fucking Venice if it ever rains, and after FIVE STRAIGHT GODDAMN FUCKING HOURS of nothing but back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back calls, you FINALLY get a Goddamn fucking lunch break and realize you can’t eat because your jaw has been clenched for so long that it hurts too much to chew.