I have received an emailed directive from Megan:
stop what you are doing and blog something right now.
So, here goes:
I’ve been busy as hell. I got the job I was trying to get, and you are now reading the words of the new part-time Telecommunications Operator for a suburban Chicago town, the town in which I went to high school.
Yep, that’s right. When a bunch of teenagers are falling all over themselves, drunk, peeing on lawns, tossing recyclables around in the street, beating each other up in parks, etc., and someone calls up to report it to the police, I’m the one who answers the phone and sends out the officers.
I am a dispatcher. I also take the 911 calls and reports of accidents and thefts and frauds and fires and all that stuff. It’s a little crazy. The job is perfect for me, although several times when I’ve told people about it, the get a quizzical look on their face and say, “Really?” But do you have any idea the kinds of material I’m accumulating? Not just about the people who call for help or assistance, but the officers? Police officers are insane! In a good way, of course.
So, I’m still in training and really enjoying it, but I’m still trying to figure out how to have a job and still do all the things I need to do in a day.
The other thing taking up all my time is Newsvine. I’m totally addicted. I love it. I spend entirely too much time there and need to back off. I keep telling myself to publish everything I write over there over here, too, but many times people here wouldn’t know what the hell I’m talking about, so I don’t.
That’ll change in the upcoming weeks, however, because my Lollapalooza coverage will appear both there and here. And I’m getting really excited for it. I’ve got interviews lined up with Ben Harper (Ben Harper!), G. Love and Special Sauce, Peter Himmelman, and a few others. I’m waiting for confirmation on interviews with a few other bands, and I’m hoping still to land some of the bigger acts like Pearl Jam, Iggy Pop, Patty Smith, Muse, My Morning Jacket, etc.
I’ll also be covering a few of the side-events. There’s some kind of acoustic brunch going on which I’ll be attending Saturday morning, and I’ve just sent off an application for press credentials to an after-party music lounge kind of thing as well. I’ll let you know how that works out.
I want to cover absolutely ever facet of Lollapalooza that I possibly can. Without going insane. Good luck to me, right?
Over at Newsvine, though, I’m spending a lot of my time trying to encourage people to write more, write better, and view themselves as journalists. I just started a group devoted to covering protests around the world, and I’m encouraging others to go to protests and get the story, and post them at Newsvine. So far so good.
So, I’ve stretched myself a little thin here, but it’s all such good stuff, I can’t complain, and I’m enjoying every minute of it.
I think when Megan requested that I stop what I’m doing and write on my blog, she was hoping for a babble. And while the above could certainly be called babbling, it’s not my standard offering. So. Hmmm. What can I babble about?
I know! People who call the police for really random and ridiculous things!
For instance, the woman who recently called the general number and said, “Yes, I have a problem.”
“What’s the problem, ma’am?” I asked.
“Well, you know that nail salon that just opened up in town?” she asked.
Now, here, I’m expecting her to say that she’d forgotten to take the money to pay out of her wallet before getting her nails done, and had asked the manicurist to get it out for her, and the manicurist then stole all her money, or maybe they injured her in some way, or there were rats running around, or something, anything, criminal.
“Yes?”
“Well, I don’t know the name of it, so I can’t get the phone number.”
I paused for a moment, slightly confused. “Well, how can I help you?”
“Can you get the number for me?”
Now, since I’m new on the job, and even if I weren’t, it would be inappropriate to do so, I did not say what I would have liked to say, which was “Are you SERIOUSLY calling the FUCKING police department to ask for the PHONE NUMBER of the new NAIL SALON IN TOWN? Lady? Seriously?”
Instead, I said, “Well, no…”
“I figured the police department would have a list of all the businesses in town,” she said.
“Well, we do, in a way, but I don’t know the name of the salon either, so…”
“Well, what should I do?” she asked, slightly distraught.
“You know what I suggest, ma’am? It’s a beautiful day. Why not take a walk into town and check it out? Last time I drove through, I don’t even think they had a sign up, so you might have to go in. Or, you could drive up.”
I said this very sweetly, without the slightest note of sarcasm in my voice. Really. I did.
Her response? “Oh. Thanks.” Irritated! She was mad that the police department couldn’t provide for her the name and phone number for a nail salon in town! WTF is that? I would have liked to have said, “Yes, ma’am, I have it right here on speed-dial. Would you like me to connect you? Or, would you like me to call up and set up an appointment for you? And then send an officer to pick you up and deliver you to the salon and rub your stupid, lazy feet while you get your goddamn nails painted? Because we are a SERVICE-ORIENTED department, ma’am, and there’s nothing we love more than to cater to the every whim of the spoiled, snotty asshats who live in this town, and I’ll tell you, if you’re not a prime example of a spoiled, snotty asshat, then I don’t know who is!”
But of course, I didn’t say that.
How’s that, Meggy?
