Fred: 911.

Yesterday on the Great Lileks's site, our friend Mongo posted this gem: 

I said the lady should forget it; her husband is a goner. The wise and tasteful Judge Baylor commented, "There he is ladies and gentlemen, Fred Key: World's Greatest 911 Operator!"

And indeed there is some truth to the heavily implied sarcasm. I think I would be a horrible 911 operator. Although I have sometimes managed to be cool in times of crisis, I can also get rather flustered when everyone around me is freaking out and the next right move is not obvious. Also, as a world-class catastrophizer, I have thoughts that not only leap to the worst thing possible, but beyond that to the worst thing imaginable. These are not good traits for someone manning the emergency line. 

Here's how I expect things would go on the first day: 

"911, what's your emergency? What's that? You fell off a swing set? How old are you? I dunno, you sound about thirty. And stoned. Are you stoned?"

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"And where are you, ma'am? Right, corner of Watson and Smith. Hey, that's where the new pizzeria opened up, you know it? Yeah, it's really good. The stromboli is the best I've had around here. No seriously, you should try it. Just the right amount of cheese and the sauce is to die for-- What's that? Oh, yeah, send the ambulance. Hang on."

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"How bad is the break? You can see the bone? Okay, hold on while I throw up in my wastepaper basket."

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"Ma'am, when the ambulance arrives please tell them I'm sorry, I was supposed to send the cops. Are the people still shooting at you?"

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"Yes, sir, I understand. Are you certain that he's dead? Well, can you make sure he's dead? All right, I'll hold." <gunshot> "Hey, did you call just to wrangle me into an old joke?"