When I Tried To Become A 9-1-1 Operator

I was desperate for a job.  I wanted out of retail.  Temp jobs were not meant to last.  I gave in and applied for government exams.  My father drove me down to the city, where I took the exams, and then I waited.  Months later, a letter arrived.  I was accepted as a 9-1-1- operator, and I thought the job was mine.  I just had no idea of the hoops that I would have to jump through to actually get that job.

A stack of paperwork piled up beside me.  It was my life, every job I had, and the pile grew.  I didn’t realize how lost and desperate I was until I saw that tower lean closer.  Did I really want this, or was this just another mistake?  I wasted so much time, money and energy to chase the possibility of having this job, but did I really want it?  Could I handle the responsibilities or consequences that it came with?

The last step was a psych eval.  I hated those people.  She never opened the folder on her desk.  She asked me one simple question.  My mind was already in turmoil, knowing now that this was a mistake, and I thought about that.  I looked at her finally and gave her a simple answer.  The job interview was over, and I was sent home, desperate to find another job.  But I was grateful not to have this one.

In my video, Hope Over Tragedy, I said that monsters do exist.  They do.  We just never notice them until it’s too late.  We’d rather live in our perfect, glass bubble, but as I sat back in the movie theatre, watching “The Call,” I could feel that bubble break.  Monsters exist like the man bent on tormenting and killing girls, but all anyone saw as they drove by him was a normal guy.  Then, I came home to find my front door unlocked.  Was a monster trying to get in while I was away, enjoying my “perfect” life?

I remember when I cruised the subways, going back and forth to temp agencies, looking for work.  I went downtown and uptown.  I was in parts unfamiliar to me, and as I walked through one subway station, I was unaware of the man walking closer and closer behind me.  I stopped walking, and he nearly barreled into me.  I turned and made eye contact with him.  He backed away, staring at his feet, and his hands curled into fists.  Like the fox with sour grapes, he slowly turned and walked away, but I knew.  I knew he was up to no good, and if I had just walked past that dark stairwell, who would have said what he would have done?

I remember another incident on the subway.  It was during the morning rush hour.  This man sat across from me and started to shout about the “white man.”  He went on and on, making the girl near him burst into tears.  Nobody could get away from him.  We were crammed in like sardines, and he knew it.  And he went on with his tirade.  As he did, he tried to make eye contact with me, but I continued to stare over his head, counting the stops until mine.  When I got off the subway, I reported the incident, but I was told that an actual incident had to occur before something could be done.  And my glass bubble once again shattered under disbelief.

We want to live in a perfect world, but there is no such thing.  Monsters do exist.  In television shows such as “Criminal Minds,” our eyes are open to what exists beyond our normal, ordinary lives.  We don’t want to know, so we change the channel.  We wrap ourselves up in false protection, but the truth is out there.  We’re not safe.  Whether we’re hanging out at a mall or going into the city for job interviews, we need to be aware.  We need to know, and we need to check our doors and windows at night.  Otherwise, sleep will never find us again.