How many of you can say that firetrucks and ambulances arrived at your work twice in one week (hospital workers don’t count)? Neither could I until this past week. And not only did I have a 9-1-1 emergency twice in one week, but I had a visit by a big red truck to EACH of my jobs. I like to keep things even. If Sola Coffee Bar gets a visit by Mr. Fireman on Thursday, then you better belive that the Arizona State University Language and Literature Building is going to demand the same visit the following Monday. People say my schedule is too busy, but I like to think that the more jobs I have the more I can utilize our civil workers and make sure tax payer money never goes to waste.
Now let me start by saying these emergencies were kosher, mild, almost mundane. No one got hurt. But just because I think it’s so weird to have an “emergency” at both my jobs in the same week, I feel I must explain.
I work Thursday afternoons at my church’s coffee shop in the heart of Old Town Scottsdale. It’s a cool, trendy, little rocker joint with cement floors, exposed beams in the celing and a turntable that’s constantly spinning albums like The Black Keys and Ryan Adams and other people that I’m not quite cool enough to know much about. The 20 year olds that manage the shop are both musicians and rock music is their thing. Yes, I have two managers that are the same age as the students I teach… Anway, our shop serves great coffee, offers a cool atmosphere, and helps our church be a part of our community. Last Thursday, I arrived to my shift at 2pm and soon noticed that the lights were blinking on and off occasionally. About every 20 to 30 minutes, I would notice these little power surge-spasm-things until finally at 5pm the power turned off completely. Since other buildings around the block still had power, I knew it was something specific to our building. Thanks to the ever-faithful head lamp I keep in my car (seems nerdy, but you have no idea how often it comes in handy… think flat tire at night sort of thing), I was able to work my way into the back office, find the fuse box, and try to play Electrician. However, according to the fuse box nothing was wrong, no shorted circuits, nothing. I finally called our pastor, Heath, and he came down to check it. Meanwhile, I am tyring to clean things up around the shop as best I can with no electricity, since Heath told me I could close up early. Right when I am about to stick my hands in a sinkful of warm, sudsy water to finish the dishes, Heath comes back in and tells me to “get out of the building now.” The fire department says we have to evacuate the building. Evacuate, really? I’m not afraid of the dark.
It turns out there was an old electrical line sparking and smoldering above our building. Doing the dishes could have been the death of me, I guess, but instead I got off work an hour early, which was a lovely surprise. I left the shop just as two firetrucks and a first aid car were pulling up, and shoppers in Old Town were lining the sidewalks to watch the drama unfold. I guess they got it fixed, because I got off work late tonight and I defintely had to wash ALL the dishes.
So fast forward past the weekend. On Monday morning, I dropped my lovely girlfriends off at the airport and headed to ASU to get a little work done before classes started on Tuesday. The university was closed for MLK Jr. Day, but thankfully a door to the English building was unlocked and I was able to get into my office on the third floor. The building seemed desolate on the holiday. I worked for about an hour and then left my office to grab some papers off the printer down the hall. As I left the printer room, I was greeted by smoke, yes visible smoke, all over the hallway around my office door. I freaked out and ran into my office to save my computer and my books (pretty sure they don’t teach you to run toward the smoke and save your personal belongings in all the those fire safety courses you take in elementary schools…but I defied my childhood schooling and preserved my laptop anyway) and then ran down the hall, away from the smoke this time, to an outer stairwell. When I got to the stairs, I stopped. What should I do? Just leave and hope it was something stupid like someone burning popcorn in another office. But what if I left and learned later that day than an entire academic building at ASU burned down because I didn’t notify anyone? I didn’t really want to make a big deal about it, because I knew that most likely it was nothing. I couldn’t see any flames, feel any heat, and by this point (I kept sticking my head back through the doors to gauge the situation) the smoke was diminishing, not growing. I tried to call a few administrative offices on campus, but of course, no one was there because of the holiday. Finally, I decided I needed to be a drama queen and call 911, even though I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t ethically leave the building without notifying SOMEONE and the only someone I knew how to get a hold of at this point was the fire department. Three minutes later two fire trucks were pulling up to the building. An ambulance arrived a minute later. And a minute after that the Fire Batillion from the next town over arrived. Apparently, they really try to prevent state universities from burning down. Right after they arrived, a little old lady walked down from the 3rd floor to explain that she had burned a plastic plate in the microwave, which had caused all the smoke…
As fun as these little adventures were, I would love to go at least a few weeks without seeing any fire trucks or ambulances on the job. I just don’t get paid enough for that sort of thing to happen regularly…
