Lesson of Life

Back in New York, I am the head of development for a non profit called Robin Hood. When I’m not fighting poverty, I’m fighting fires as the assistant captain of a volunteer fire company. Now in our town, where the volunteers supplement a highly skilled career staff, you have to get to the fire scene pretty early to get in on any action.
I remember my first fire. I was the second volunteer on the scene, so there was a pretty good chance I was going to get in. But still it was a real foot race against the other volunteers to get the captain in charge to find out what our assignments would be. When I found the captain, he was having a very engaging conversation with the homeowner, who was surely having one of the worst days of her life. Here it was the middle of the night, she was standing outside in the pouring rain, under an umbrella, in her pajamas, barefoot, while her house was in flames. The other volunteer who had arrived just before me, let’s call him Lex Luther , got to the captain first and was asked to go inside and save the homeowner’s dog. “The dog! I was stunned with jealousy. Here was some lawyer or money manager who, for the rest of his life, gets to tell people that he went into a burning building to save a living creature, just because he beat me by five seconds.
Well, I was next. The captain waved me over. He said, “Bezos, I need you to go into the house. I need you to go upstairs past the fire, and I need you to get this woman a pair of shoes,” I swear. So, not exactly what I was hoping for, but off I went, up the stairs, down the hall, past the ‘real’ firefighters, who were pretty much done putting out the fire at this point, into the master bedroom to get a pair of shoes.
Now I khow what you’re thinking, but I’m no hero. I carried my payload back downstairs where I met my nemesis and the precious dog by the front door. We took our treasure outside to the homeowner, where, not surprisingly, his received much more attention that did mine. A