Disaster Planning.

At work they sent out a document for everyone to write down the names and numbers of three (3) people to call in case of an emergency.

I figured an "emergency" in this case was some generic bit of bad luck, ie. if I ever fall down the stairs, electrocute myself or am taken out by a gun-toting coworker...what other grimness can befall you when you work in a basement, tinkering forlornly with simple electronics?

So I wrote down the usual: boyfriend, brother, mother. Not that I can picture any of these people dealing with some Grumpus-related, run-of-the-mill disaster smoothly and efficiently and with a minimum of yelling. All are difficult to get a-hold of, disbelieving of stated facts, and easily excitable. No one knows my blood type or the medications I'm on either, or even how I wish to be disposed of post-death (may as well take advantage of this forum to publicly state: A+, Citalopram, and "LifeGem," respectively).

In any case, this time the emergency contact form was different. Two of the usual suspects, sure, for your boring work-related, "this is the clinic/hospital/morgue she's at; incidentally we're open between 9 and 5 so you can come pick up her desk shit at your convenience" disasters. But the third had to be a person outside of B.C., to contact in case of a province-wide emergency, SOUND THE KLAXONS!

It's times like this I realize my "six degrees of separation" social force sucks monkey balls. I don't know anyone who doesn't live pretty near to me. I have relatives in Ireland but I don't think they want to hear their long-lost whatever got squished in an earthquake or is currently missing in the B.C.-centric zombie uprising.

But is that really odd? Is it unusual not to know anyone, or at least anyone who could count as an emergency contact, who lives far away? I didn't want to ask anyone, lest they know how alone in the world I am!!

For my elusive contact #3, I gill-netted a random telephone number courtesy of The Inter-Net, and jotted in a caring-sounding name. I doubt that in a disaster our human resources rep, a bubbly girl named Sari who wears prom dresses to the office and gets dropped off by a muscle car every morning, will have the wherewithal to phone everybody's out-of-province contacts to give them the low-down anyhow. Any disaster that befalls us will also have befallen her! So the chances are 99.4% against my employer ever finding out my emergency contact is a pay phone outside a Fiesta Mart in Dallas, TX.

On this note, any out-of-B.C. reader is welcome to become my #3 emergency contact. Just shoot me your name and telephone number and I'll pass my updated information along to Sari, the human resources director at my job!