Biker's Virgin

“Her name is Marta,” I said. “She sits in the cubicle next to mine. She mentioned that this company offers a wide range of courses to their employees at discounted rates. They’re all about educating their staff. They believe it translates into long-term productivity.”

“That’s smart,” Phil said approvingly. “I’m glad there are companies out there who do that kind of thing. You think you’ll take up a few courses?”

“Not right now,” I said. “But it’s nice knowing I have an option. I know this makes me a nerd, but I quite enjoy studying.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he laughed.

“Would you have gone to college?” I asked. “If you had been given the opportunity, that is?”

Phil gave himself a moment to think about it. “It’s hard to say really. The kid I was seven, eight years ago was not right for college. I wouldn’t have had the patience or the diligence to stick to that kind of commitment. I did complete my GED when I was twenty, though.”

“So that you could become a firefighter?”

“Yep,” Phil agreed.

“What attracted you to this career out of all the others?” I asked, realizing that I had never asked him that particular question before.

“I saw a rescue,” he said simply.

“You saw a rescue?” I repeated.

“I was taking my lunch break, standing outside of the convenience store that I was working in at the time, when I saw smoke from a building two blocks down. The smoke wasn’t stopping, and suddenly, I realized it was a full-scale fire.

“Within minutes, the firefighters showed up. They not only stopped the fire, but they got fourteen people out of that building.

“I just watched them work in the aftermath of the fire. They were calm, patient, and kind to the victims. There was one person…she was an older woman, probably in her sixties. She was just wailing, screaming about something, and grabbing one of the firefighter’s hands. She was trying to communicate something to him, but she was speaking another language, and no one seemed to understand her.

“Finally, one of the civilians who had been watching the whole thing alongside me stepped forward and translated for her. Apparently, her dog was stuck inside during the fire, and she was scared he hadn’t made it out. She kept screaming that the dog was the only family she had left. And the firefighter holding her hand did the most amazing thing.”

“What did he do?” I asked, finding myself being drawn into his story.

“He put both his hands on her shoulders and made direct eye contact with her until she calmed down. Then he spoke to her as though she could understand what he was saying. He told her that he was going to try and find her dog. Then he turned and walked back into the building while the civilian translated for the old woman. Half an hour later, he came back out of the building with this shivering little dog tucked into his left arm.”

I smiled. “That’s quite a story.”

“The fire was out at this point, but I suppose I was amazed at how much extra time he had invested into finding this woman’s dog,” Phil continued. “He was so compassionate and patient. It floored me that he would take so much time and effort for an animal. I was so intrigued by that, I actually went up to him later and asked him why he had gone back in for the dog.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He told me that he didn’t go in for the dog. He went in for the old lady. She was obviously hysterical, and the animal meant something to her. He told me that firefighting was not just about putting out fires and saving lives. It was about being there for your community. It was about making people’s lives a little safer and easier and better.”

“And that’s when you knew you wanted to be a firefighter?” I asked.

“I wish I were that smart,” he replied. “No, at the time I just thought the guy was completely off his rocker. It wasn’t until months later that I realized I needed something that made me feel…worthwhile. I needed to give something back to the community. I needed to make a difference.

“I had seen it in that fireman’s eyes that day. He was doing one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, but he was content. He was content because he was doing something that meant something. He was of use.”

“Is it everything you wanted it to be?” I asked.

“At first it was hell. The training was grueling, and the simulated situations you’re put in make you question preserving your own sanity. But once I’d gotten through that part… I realized that I had achieved what I’d always set out to do.”

“Purpose.” I smiled.

“Exactly—purpose.”

“You’re an inspiring guy; you know that?”

“Aw, shucks,” Phil said, feigning embarrassment. “You’re going to make me blush.”