SCENE #6
INT. 9–1–1 EMERGENCY CALL CENTER — EVENING
A small group of operators sit at their respective desks in a quaint, quiet room. It doesn’t take long to tell that very little goes on around here.
Finally, a line rings. An eager beaver OPERATOR #1 takes it.
OPERATOR #1: 9–1–1, what’s your emergency?
She listens attentively.
OPERATOR #1 (CONT’D): (to the room, rolling her eyes) We got another one.
The whole room moans and groans. OPERATOR #2 rises from his seat and heads to a dry erase board in the corner, which is separated into two separate sections labeled BUTT DIAL? and HOSTAGE SITUATION?
OPERATOR #2: Alright, folks, place your bets.
The operators all listen in on the call at their desks.
OPERATOR #3: Oh, shit. I definitely heard “let us go.”
OPERATOR #4: No, they said “lettuce, tomato.”
OPERATOR #1: Nope. “Let us go.” I heard it, too.
She motions to OPERATOR #2, who puts her down for HOSTAGE SITUATION. OPERATOR #3 does the same.
OPERATOR #4: (shaking head) Butt dial for me.
OPERATOR #2 marks the board accordingly.
OPERATOR #4 (CONT’D): Gotta good feeling it’s the new Shake Shack.
OPERATOR #2: Picked up the location yet?
OPERATOR #1: Still working on it.
The whole room waits in anxious silence, as if nothing else in the world matters.
Finally:
OPERATOR #1 (CONT’D): (almost disappointed) Fucking Jersey Mike’s.
OPERATOR #4 rejoices.
OPERATOR #2: Who we got at the station tonight? Jerry? Tell him to pick me up a Chicken Parm while he’s there.
OPERATOR #1: I’ll text him.
OPERATOR #2 erases the board with the palm of his hand. Until next time.
