Callsign Beet Man
April 11, 2023 – Ames, Iowa, USA
Lieutenant Zander Sandoval strolled into the coffee shop he knew well as a college student. The shelf of used books to borrow had barely changed, but the beanbags had been replaced by a couple of couches. The yogurt and muffin rack now included packaged juices.
The place was almost empty of customers, not totally unexpected for an early Tuesday afternoon. Zander did not recognize any of the employees who were dressed in the same green aprons he used to wear. He took a few steps toward the row of stools lined up in front of a high counter. Then he saw a familiar face.
“Zander? Is that you?” Zander’s old manager, Kyle, stood behind the counter with a welcoming grin on his face.
“The place pretty much looks the same,” Zander called to Kyle, as he sat on one of the high stools.
“What did you expect? You look good. All clean-cut.”
“You look as shaggy as I remember,” Zander replied with a teasing voice, pointing out Kyle’s beard and moppy hair.
“How’d the whole Air Force thing work out? That was your plan wasn’t it?”
“I’m a pilot now.”
“No kidding? What kind of planes?”
“F-22s”
“Which ones are those?”
“Kind of small. Stealth fighters. We go in first and take out all the radar targets.”
“No way. You’re an actual fighter pilot? How long did that take?”
“About three years. I was nearby visiting my parents and thought I’d come back and take a look around.”
One of the green-aproned employees walked behind the counter and Kyle said, “Hey Holly, check this guy out. He used to work here and now he’s a fighter pilot like Top Gun.”
Holly pushed her round glasses up the bridge of her nose and said, “Nice to meet you. Were you an Iowa State student?”
“Yeah. A starving student making coffee to pay tuition.”
“Did you major in mechanical engineering or something?”
“Ha, no. Communications. I was just trying to get out as fast as possible. Then this recruiter talked me into ROTC.”
“So you’re like a Captain now?” Kyle asked.
“Lieutenant.”
“Huh. Lieutenant Zander Sandoval.”
Zander laughed. “It’s funny to hear you say that. When you’re a pilot, you don’t go by your first name very much. You go by your callsign.”
“Oh, that’s so cool,” Kyle said with awe. “What’s yours?”
“Dozer. Everybody calls me Dozer Sandoval.”
“Where did that come from? Are you supposed to be like a bulldozer or something?”
“Not exactly.”
“So why did you choose Dozer?”
“How you get your callsign is kind of a personal thing you don’t share with many people. And it’s like it chooses you more than you choose it.”
“This sounds so cool. We gotta pick callsigns for everyone in the coffee shop,” Kyle said, gesturing toward the two employees who were not standing behind the counter. As they walked over, Kyle called, “Guys we gotta pick callsigns like we’re pilots.”
“You mean like Maverick or Iceman?” DeSean asked with a laugh. He had been using a cleaning towel and he flipped it over his shoulder.
The shop’s fourth employee, Gwen, strolled over and asked, “What are you guys talking about?”
Kyle introduced everyone to Dozer Sandoval and explained how the two of them had once worked together. “Dozer’s his callsign. We’re coming up with callsigns for everyone.”
“I gotta warn you that using callsigns doesn’t work for civilians,” Dozer said, raising up his hands. “It’s something that really only works for military aviators.”
Kyle waved dismissively. “Nah. It’ll work for us too. Don’t you guys think so?”
When Kyle looked toward Holly, DeSean, and Gwen, they each returned a shrug or a short nod. They knew that Kyle could be obsessive and it was easiest to play along with one of his new ideas. And if he wanted them to stand around thinking up callsigns rather than wiping tables and scrubbing dishes, they were not going to argue with him.
“Okay, let’s start with Holly,” Kyle continued. “We need a callsign that totally fits her.”
“Maybe it could be Cappuccino,” Holly suggested. “You know, because I’m the best when it comes to the Cappuccino machine.”
Dozer shook his head. “No, real callsigns aren’t about your personality or some skill you have. I know that’s probably how it’s portrayed in the movies. But real callsigns come from silly stuff. Maybe it’s a play on words with your name. Or some embarrassing thing you did. It could be the one dumb thing people remember most about you.”
DeSean leaned against the tall counter. His mouth slowly curled into a grin. “I remember that time Holly was carrying a whole tray of new cups. And then it slipped out of her hands in slow motion.” DeSean held out his hands to illustrate what happened. “The tray went up and down until every cup crashed on the floor. Kind of amazing. She probably couldn’t do it again if she wanted to.”
“I definitely remember that,” Kyle said with a laugh.
“Her callsign could be Vaseline. Like she has Vaseline on her hands,” DeSean suggested.
“Most callsigns have only two syllables,” Dozer interjected.
“Then maybe Crisco. Or any kind of grease,” DeSean said.
“Crisco sounds pretty good,” Kyle said with a chuckle. “What do you think, Dozer?”
“It’s okay, I guess. But like I said, I don’t think this is gonna work out for civilians.”
“I’ve been trying not to remember those broken cups,” Holly said bitterly. “The best think you can come up with is the one time I dropped something?”
“It’s kind of the first thing that comes to mind when I think of you,” DeSean replied in a teasing voice.
“I’ve known you for a year and a half and that’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Well why do you guys get to decide? It’s my callsign. I should get to decide.”
“That’s not how callsigns work,” Dozer added. “Your squadron decides.”
“Okay, okay. We’ve got one for Holly. Now we need one for DeSean,” Kyle said excitedly.
“Then think of something with my rhymes or poetry,” DeSean said.
“What rhymes or poetry?” Kyle asked.
“You know, because I’m a music major,” DeSean replied.
“Since when?”
Holly ignored Kyle’s confusion and said, “The thing I remember most about DeSean is when he followed that girl over to her table to get her number. And she shut him down like she was slapping his face. He wouldn’t talk to anybody the rest of the day.”
“That happened one time!” DeSean cried.
Holly imitated the pouty look on DeSean’s face after the rejection.
“DeSean should be Reject,” Kyle said with a laugh.
“No! It’s not like I’m begging for digits every day and getting shot down. It happened one time.”
“It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think about you,” Holly added with a smirk.
“This is good. We’ve got Crisco and Reject. Now we need one for Gwen,” Kyle said with a giggle that shook his stomach.
Gwen remained silent as her coworkers looked her up and down. She finally said, “If you can’t think of anything, maybe it could be how I’m training for a triathlon. I could be Iron Woman. Or just Iron.”
“Everybody I know is training for a triathlon. That’s not unique,” DeSean said. “When I think of you, I think about the week you wore the same green shorts four days in a row.
Holly snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, we couldn’t figure out if you were washing them every night or what. We bet on if we’d see them on day five.”
“I don’t even remember that,” Gwen replied in an injured voice.
“We do. First thing that comes to mind,” DeSean added.
“She could be Green Shorts or Leprechaun,” Kyle eagerly suggested.
“Or Lucky,” DeSean said.
“Lucky doesn’t sound bad, but I don’t want it to be because I wore some green shorts one week,” Gwen replied.
“You don’t get to decide. It’s the squadron’s call,” Kyle said. “Crisco, Reject, and Lucky. Perfect. I’m going to start using callsigns from now on. Maybe I’ll get you new nametags.”
Holly, DeSean, and Gwen smiled sarcastically. No one wanted to act like their callsign bothered them. While Kyle giggled, they also wondered if they dared suggest a callsign for him. If he was in the wrong mood, he had passive aggressive ways to inflict punishment. He was the one setting shift hours and raises. DeSean finally decided he could not help himself.
“What about you?” DeSean asked coolly.
“What do you mean?” Kyle replied.
“Shouldn’t we come up with a callsign for you?”
Kyle looked over at Dozer who said, “The squadron leader needs a callsign too.”
“Okay, I’m open to suggestions.”
“Are you really?” Holly asked.
“Of course.”
Gwen sniggered and immediately said, “Beets.” Holly and DeSean knowingly grinned.
“You mean Beats like the headphones? Because of the music I listen to?” Kyle asked.
“No Beets like the vegetable,” Gwen said.
“Because you remind us of Dwight Schrute from The Office,” Holly added. “You act like him a lot sometimes.”
Kyle looked over at Dozer for help. “That doesn’t sound like the same kind of thing as the others.”
“I told you from the start callsigns were a bad idea. But Beets is probably as good as the rest. Maybe make it Beet Man so it’s two syllables.”
“I’m not going to be Beet Man,” Kyle insisted.
“Why not? I think it sounds good,” DeSean called out. “I thought we were all getting nametags.”
“I was obviously joking about that,” Kyle mumbled. “If you were a real poet, you’d recognize sarcasm.”
DeSean knew he had pushed as far as possible without getting stuck on all the upcoming late night weekend shifts. He pulled the towel from his shoulder and wiped at the counter. Holly and Gwen backed slowly away from the conversation, as if they remembered waiting customers.
“Civilians,” Dozer said, standing up from his stool. “Sometimes you’re better off not knowing stuff. Well, I better take off. Sorry for stirring things up.”
“Good to see you,” Kyle mumbled. “Good luck with the planes and everything.”
“I’ll stop by the next time I’m in town. I’m curious to see whether those callsigns stick.”
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