New 911 needed so ‘hangry’ eaters don’t kill us all
Reminder: there is no such thing as a fast-food emergency.
But each year, without fail, a rube with bad judgment and a grumbly belly dials 911 because a Burger King has botched a Western BBQ Burger or a McDonald’s has run out of Chicken McNuggets or a Taco Bell is not serving beef burritos. There was the woman who called 911 because her fries were cold. There was the man who called 911 because a deli screwed up the turkey-to-cheese ratio on his sandwich.
Send the police because all I taste right now is mozzarella!
This week, here in Ontario, a 32-yearold woman in Elgin called 911 because her pizza was late. You’ve heard of those 30-minutes-or-it’s-free guarantees? Well, she seems to think it’s 30-minutesor-someone-gets-the-slammer. Imagine being so “hangry” you want squad cars to rush out as cops bust down a pizzeria door and cuff the cook and delivery dude, giving them 5-10 for the ghastly crime of a tardy pie.
This woman probably calls General Electric when it’s cloudy.
It’s not just fried-chicken disputes and milkshake rows that are clogging 911.
In recent years, bewildered dispatchers have fielded urgent calls over everything from the wrong shade of nail polish that was applied in a B.C. salon to a UFO sighting in England that — spoiler alert — turned out to be the moon.
We now have wives calling 911 because their husbands are watching too much porn and husbands calling 911 because their wives can’t find their glasses. Don’t get me wrong. When my wife loses her specs, it’s very stressful. But as I trudge from room to room during these thrice-weekly search-and-retrieve missions while tormenting myself with queries the universe can’t answer — “Why can’t she just keep them on her face?!?” — it never dawned on me to call in a K-9 unit.
You don’t get it! It’s her turn to do the dishes! She can’t see! This is an emergency!
Some recent 911 calls are so crazy, they almost seem like urban legends. There was the guy who called 911 because a strip club wouldn’t admit his drinking partner — a kitten. There was the woman who called 911 because her son has a nut allergy and Amazon delivered a box that contained — wait for it — packing peanuts.
In the annals of Stupid 911 Calls, there is also a subgenre this millennium we might call Idiotic Questions as people blitz dispatchers with frantic inquiries such as “What year is it?” and the ever popular, “Hello, 911, what’s the number for 911?”
That last one gave me an idea. I’m not saying it’s a great idea. But if dumdums are now jamming 911 to report threatening squirrels and skinny-dipping deer and suspicious owls, we need to realize these nuisance calls pose a serious threat to humans who may be in the midst of a real life-and-death situation.
So here’s the idea: what if we created a new phone number? Instead of calling 911 when something terrible happens, what if you dialed 123?
Yes, for public safety, we’d need a transition period during which both numbers would connect to EMS. But after a few months of strategic PSAs and government ads and direct mailing, responsible citizens would automatically dial 123 when circumstances warranted, when something was an actual emergency.
Did home invaders just crash through the patio doors as you’re in bed upstairs? Dial 123. Did you just witness a serious car crash? Dial 123. Having a stroke? Dial 123.
We’d adapt. But just as important, the jackals who now think 911 is the number to ring up when their shrimp fried rice is dangerously low on shrimp or when they’re lost in a corn maze or when a drycleaner fails to remove a stain would not adapt. Think about it. If you’ve reached adulthood and believe 911 exists to resolve burger disputes or serve as a personal service — people have called requesting rides to the airport and dates with hunky police officers they spotted on the street — chances are you will never catch wind of this 911-to-123 change.
This would ensure 123 is not burdened and abused with frivolous calls. And as our wonderful emergency dispatchers start manning the 123 lines, we could staff 911 with robots or volunteers who just feel like having a good laugh when someone calls on a Friday night to demand a SWAT team because his foot-long sub is 11 inches.
123 would be for real trauma. And 911 would be the number to call for suspected poltergeists, putrid lemonade, scary woodland creatures, spousal complaints, political harangues, videogame grievances, lawn violations, cigarette deliveries, missing keys, closed public restrooms, gas-price gouging, unpleasant BBQ odours, confusing return policies and, yes, late pizzas.
Give these people their own “emergency” line so the rest of us can be safe.