For the first time ever the other day, this standard security training was comprised of *two* modules--the standard course I've come to know, and a separate course titled Active Shooter/Attacker Incidents.
Whoah.
I paused for a long moment to take that in before clicking on the link. It's not as though I'm unaware that active shooter incidents are things that happen--frequently, all over the country in fact, and in a wide variety of settings. There was just something disturbing about my company's official acknowledgement of this fact. It was the idea that for a training module on the subject to clear every corporate hoop necessary to be released on such a large scale, it had formally lost its fringe status. The discussion of its possibility had become uncontroversial, non-conspiracy theorist, no longer simply a verse in the rally cries of left-wing gun control advocates.
It was a thing that could happen at my own place of work.
I don't know why, in all the times I've contemplated what I would do in an active shooter situation (and they are surprisingly many), I never imagined it happening when I was at work. Intuitively speaking, a bank seems to be the most likely place I would encounter a person with a weapon.
But a robbery is very different in nature than the incidents we read about involving mentally ill people aiming semi-automatic weapons with either complete indiscretion, or with only a vague sense of purpose in their targets (i.e. I hate this workplace and you happen to work here).
It occurred to me that it was probably about time all companies took some measures to prepare their employees for such a possibility, however futile the attempt to actually prepare oneself for complete chaos and unimaginable violence may be.
The training itself was pretty well done. It was a shorter and more vanilla version of a very good article I read on the subject a few months ago. If you've ever wondered what the fuck on earth you should/could do if you're found in this terrible predicament, you can find that article here.
In taking the training, I couldn't help but think of the recent Pulse night club shooting in Orlando, during which a young employee of my own company was murdered. I wondered if the training had already been in development when the incident took place (likely, since that was just a few weeks back). And I wonder now if that employee might have found a shred of something in that training that could have saved his life.
It's not a pleasant thought to ponder. Then again, what about active shooter incidents is?
***
This is what I imagine, if it's the case that I have to imagine what I'd do in this situation (I'm aware it's not the case that I have to imagine it, but the mind is a wandering child):
The article and the training both mentioned three options to consider in an active shooter situation. The choices, in order of their recommendation are: run, hide, or fight.
Yes! It seems obvious that the first thing to do would be to run. Run fast! Get out of the building! SURVIVE!
Perhaps this is what the our intuitions would have most of us do, myself included.
But if I imagine that I'm not among the running...
If I am physically prevented from accessing an escape route...
I imagine the shooter in my line of vision, and a crossroads unlike any I've come upon. A taking stock. A weighty and potentially paralyzing awareness of my status as a mother. A consideration of these questions:
Is it worth the risk to my life and to my children's future, if I were to try taking out a shooter? vs. Could I live with myself in the aftermath if I survived because I'd hidden away and waited in fear, knowing I could have possibly helped save lives instead?
And if I imagine either of my children there with me, the questions become all that much more complex. I wrote something along the lines of Mama Bear danger/response instincts once here. That's a whole different can of worms.
(It's probably unhealthy: the amount of time I've spent pondering this question.)
And then I imagine, somehow, from the depths of somewhere, a profound clarity and absolute knowledge of purpose. I imagine 38 years' worth of unrealized and therefor unexpressed anger finding its focus in that singular moment. I imagine a clear, tunnel vision-like path between myself and the shooter, the full extent of my strength and concentration, the full power that exists in my aversion to becoming a victim.
More than once I've had this thought: 'woe to the person who finally pushes that button of mine.'
And in a weird way, the thought of taking action in that situation, of NOT waiting around, cowering, crying...the thought of NOT doing that gives me a striking sense of satisfaction. It makes me feel alive, even as I know it may diminish my chances of actual survival.
I imagine a fast-changing scene. others jumping into action, all of us united in a common goal: do not die a victim. And I imagine it working. I imagine an end to the violence. A change in the script.
***
And then, ultimately, I'm left with the disturbing question of why I even need to think about these things. I'm left asking the unanswerable question of why men (as they are almost always men) create these horrific scenes in the first place and attempt to stamp out lives that are so precious to others. Why do we invent and sell weapons capable of such destruction? How can it be that in the midst of our so-dubbed civilized society, I can be contemplating these scenarios and have them not be SO crazy, so unheard of?
How did we get here?
In comparison, the takeover robbery videos I've been watching for the last six years feel like a welcome relief. The objective of the robber is clear; it is to obtain money. The bank has money. The robber can have it. Almost always, that is the end of the story.
The active shooter wants what? Is it even something that can be given?
Nobody can really know and of course it would be somewhat different in each case. And while I actively hope and intend to never find myself close to such a situation, the tiniest, tiniest bit of comfort can be found in taking the time to learn how to increase my chances of survival, if I should.
