September 11, 2001. My niece's first birthday.
It began like any other for me. At that time, I still worked in the call center, starting at 7am, so my day was well underway and close to my first break time around 9am when I got a customer phone call placing an order, or something. We were winding up the call and she said, "Did you hear the news about the plane crashing into the World Trade Center?" I pretended to be concerned, because I had no idea where the WTC was, and I replied nonchalantly, "No, we don't have televisions here in the office." We completed the call, and I went to go ask my supervisor where the WTC was to see if there were going to be any delivery delays.
Literally, on my way to his desk, a co-worker came rushing in, "Bob, I'm sorry I'm late, but there is terrible news. There are two planes that have crashed into the WTC."
Another associate, who was going to school to be a high school history teacher said, "It's got to be a conspiracy, what are the odds of two planes crashing into two buildings, right next to each other, 20 minutes apart?"
Announcement over the intercom: "All managers to Conference Room A at this time."
Nearly immediately, our phone volume stopped. An average day for me is about 80 phone calls, multiplied by about 200 people in our center, plus 2 other call centers. That's a lot of phone calls.
Stopped.
My teammates and I started calling each other to make sure our lines were working, and there appeared to be nothing wrong with our phone lines. Someone broke a rule and went online to check out the news.
We were stunned to see photos like the ones shown in
this photo essay and others.
The gravity of the situation began to settle as our managers came back and told us that all deliveries to the Manhattan area were stopped indefinitely, and to expect delays elsewhere.
As the morning wore on and we were glued to the news websites, rumors began to circulate that the US was going to war now, and that fighter jets took down United 93 in a field. It was all surreal, and Hollywood-like.
When I got home that afternoon, my husband was already home, trying desperately to get online with our miserable dialup service. This became pretty much our life for the next week, hoping there would be survivors, praying that the few people we knew in NYC weren't anywhere near the site.
I know this seems rather disjointed, but that's the way the day was. For weeks afterward, whenever the managers were all called to a conference unexpectedly, we were all very nervous and checking the news headlines.
While these events unfolded back into everyday life, it was distinctly shadowed by the tragedy. I found my comfort in this: come what may, my life and future are in the hands of God. Though there be wars and rumors of wars, here and abroad, I don't have to be afraid.
And in that, the terrorists lose.
God bless America.
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