One summer I read electric meters. It was the greatest job I ever had, I got paid a lot of money for my age and I got to drive around or walk around all summer long and be outside. The good days were when you walked up to a house and there was a cute girl outback laying in the sun or when it was a complete walking route and you could take your time and listen to your headphones. There was nothing wrong with the job. Another cool aspect of the job was that you were given a route and if you finished it early you were done for the day but still got paid eight hours.

One day, I drove my car up to a house and saw that there were two dogs, one on a leash and one running free. In the yard there was a man gardening. i rolled down my window and asked "is it okay for me to exit my car? Are the dogs friendly"? He said that the dog off of the leash was friendly but to stay away from the one on the leash. I got out of my car and almost immediately the dog that was running free ran right up to me and bit into my leg, taking out a big chunk of flesh. I began bleeding all over the place. The man in the garden was very nice, took me inside and dressed my wound. We both agreed that I would need stitches. I went to the emergency room and got the stitches. But because I was injured at work, I was forced to take a drug test. Of course, the test results came back positive. All within the same week I was bit by dog, had to get stitches, and was fired from my job. My boss was a giant stoner, but his hands were tied.

So, I can sort of relate.