It was early November. The first snow hadn't yet fallen, but the constant chill in the air let everyone know -- it wouldn't be long until flakes fell.
Sleeping the night before my first day of training at 9-1-1 had been difficult. Felt like a kid the night before Christmas. Tossed and turned. Kept checking my clock to make sure I hadn't over slept.
Giving up on sleep, I got ready early and headed into work. I parked in the gated lot, and started in. I knew no one. I fumbled with change for the coffee machine. Hated having to get low to the ground to search around for the quarter that rolled somewhere, but realized -- it was my last quarter. It needed to be found.
When a supervisor came into the break room, I avoided eye contact. Old habit.
"You drive a red Chevy?" he asked.
Mouth went dry. Swallowing was not an option. Neither was speaking. So I nodded.
"It's sitting in the middle of the parking lot. Your car, it's in the middle of the parking lot."
Had no clue what he was talking about. So, wasn't sure what to say. I smiled, "I'll get it."
Not sure what I was "getting." It sounded like something needed to be done.
I went outside.
In the middle of the parking lot -- betwen the rows of parked cars, sat my car.
I shook my head, jogged over, opened the door, and deflated.
The parking brake hadn't been set.
Pulling in that morning, my stomach a jumble of nerves, my brain a mess as well -- apparently, I'd neglected to put on the brake.
Uh-huh.
Now the hard part. Going back inside. The new guy. The new guy who let his car roll through the parking lot.
Silver lining -- always a silver lining -- my car did not hit any other cars ... that morning, at least.
--Phil Tomasso
Fire/EMS Dispatcher