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1
FELICITY
The bell sings as the door closes at Caffeine Addict. Chill bumps launch up my arm as the air conditioning strikes me, cooling me down from the heat outside.
“Welcome to Caffeine Addict,” a barista says.
This coffee shop varies from the lavish ones that request six dollars for a cup of coffee. Not that I never stop at one when I’m out of town, but this one is locally owned. They seem to be so chipper and welcoming. That must be a small town feature, because the coffee shops in Dallas are rude.
“Those calls last night. Sometimes I wonder if this job is for me,” Jennifer says.
I struggle to tune in to what she is saying, but there is so much going on. There is a lengthy counter stockpiled with chrome espresso and frothing machines. Plus, almost a full house of people occupying the tables. All the noise is lending me a headache. Or I’m just getting caffeine withdrawals. Hard to tell.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asks, playfully striking me on the arm.
“I’d say it’s been three years and you’re still there.”
This is what we do. After a shift, we decompress before traveling home. Our position isn’t the most stressful in America, but it has to be at the top. 911 dispatchers are the first point of contact before fielding calls out. We have to evaluate the situation, collect vital information for all factions involved, and occasionally even offer medical advice. It is not for the fainthearted. Our bosses require us to stay calm and think clearly under pressure as we deal with life or death circumstances.
The worst thing is we never know what is going to happen when the phone rings, and we have to be prepared. At the top of our games at all times. It’s mentally exhausting. No measure of guidance can brace you to be a 911 dispatcher, because each scene is unique.
The stakes don’t get much higher. One mistake can cost them their life. We have to stay organized, patient, and decisive, no matter what happens on the other end. We can’t let emotions impair our judgment.
In the last four years, I have failed twelve people. Each time I play back the call and look for areas of improvement. We all have to learn from our mistakes. There is no outline or script.
“Sometimes I think I need to find something else,” Jennifer says.
I heard her but my heart is too full of anxiety to comment now. Instead I impatiently scan the line. We are still two people back from ordering, and my eyes gaze upon the glass case maintaining a selection of snacks. I haven’t eaten since dinner last night, so my mouth waters. Muffins. Sandwiches. Cake Pops. Cafes are smart. They know that the longer you’re in line, the more enticing the display looks. It’s like the selection by the register when checking out at a grocery store. Sure, I just paid two-hundred bucks for groceries, but beef jerky and a soda look good. Shoot me, now.
Once we make it up to the front, I request a hot mocha with a blueberry muffin and she orders a pumpkin spice latte. Why does everyone go gaga over them? I like pumpkin pie, but the lattes are too seasoned for me. The one time Jennifer convinced me to try one, the after taste almost made me throw up. Yuck!
The spaced-out bistro tables are accompanied with contemporary wrought-iron chairs and padded seats. We slip to the one toward the back. Most of the patrons are working on their laptops or reading on their tablets, instead of enjoying the view out of the windows of the street. Cheerful people walking around with their children. A couple having an argument. People watching is one of my favorite things to do.
“Don’t you ever wonder what else you could do?” Jennifer asks.
“All the time, but that means nothing. Don’t you remember what happened last year?”
She rattles her head.
“The dispatcher that got the call about a woman stuck in water behind an apartment complex. The woman died because she didn’t take her seriously. Me and you are good at our jobs, and it saves lives. Just remember that.”
The barista calls out our names and we grab our order. How could I ever survive without caffeine? The sweet, milky, with extra whipped cream contraption is perfect with the chocolate drizzle on top. The warmth cascades down my throat, and then I lick the foam from my lips.
My mind won’t stop wandering over the stupidest things. It’s probably because I’m overtired, stressed, and partly my ADHD.
“Are you ready for this semester?” she asks.
The summer has gone by so fast, and a brand new semester is upon me. I have one semester left to graduate with my business degree, and then this will all be over. No more classes.
“Maybe you will meet the man of your dreams this time. I’m still rooting for it.”
Jennifer seems to think that college is the perfect place to find a boyfriend, but what she doesn’t realize is they are all young. I’m a non-traditional student, and my luck in finding a man that fits my criteria in one of the two classes I have is low.
“Stop trying to find me someone. Some people aren’t afraid to be alone, you know.”
My grandfather has always told me I will be a hard one to match. I’m very outspoken and to the point. There is no sugar coating with me. I like to say I was born without a filter. Thanks mom and dad!
My phone rings and I don’t recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail.
