Bless their hearts, some of my friends are mighty lax when it comes to returning my phone calls and/or text messages. I get it, they’re on the phone all day with clients/customers and the last thing they want to do is talk to my sorry ass about an upcoming sale at JC Penney.

However, there are certain times when I need them to respond back to me in a somewhat timely manner. With many of my good friends, they are well aware of my sliding 911 scale which has been perfected over nearly a decade. It originally started in early 2010 when I was livid that my friend Eric simply wouldn’t return my calls. Asshole. “If it’s bad, like really bad, text me 911 and I’ll call you back pronto,” he mentioned nonplused. Two months later I nearly keeled over dead from a stroke. I texted 911—you know after I called the real 911 and regained consciousness in the hospital. He called within two minutes. I’ll be damned, I thought.

It worked.

The scale has become quite useful, and because of that I want to share it with you. You can tweak as needed, but, trust me, I’ve probably used it at least 100 times over the past decade with a shocking amount of success. Use wisely and in accordance with the standards set below:

111 = I have a hangnail. Or maybe an ingrown hair. It’s bothersome. Call me in the next several days to discuss.

211 = The hangnail appears to be infected. Should I go to the doctor? Imma need you to call me back in the next 24-48 hours to help me get a plan of attack.

311 = I’m sick. Not sick-sick. Just sick. And kinda whiny. It might be a head cold. Or Ebola. It’s probably Ebola. Call me in the next day, please.

411 = I’m probably gonna get fired from my job for calling my co-worker a hateful name under my breath with a cough. Also, my third cousin is getting divorced. Call me before bed.

511 = Someone we both know sent me nude pics. If you want the tea, you’ll get back with me later today.

611 = I’ve been in a car accident. Well, it was just a fender bender, but it was still scary. I’m probably gonna be sore tomorrow. Call me in the next couple hours.

711 = I think I broke something. Seriously. And now it’s swelling. I’m headed to the emergency room. Call me when you can.

811 = Check that, it’s a compound fracture. The bone is now sticking out of my skin. Also, blood. Call me quick.

911 = Death or imminent death is, well, imminent. I’m not playing. This is DEFCON 1. Call me immediately.

Finally, I leave you with this nugget regarding my sliding scale. Do not cry wolf—EVER. If you ever text me 911 because your girlfriend of twelve minutes broke up with you, I will defriend you. Seriously. Anything over 511 puts me on high alert and gets my Spidey senses tingling. It’s like DEFCON—save for the military isn’t involved.

Mercifully, I’ve only been texted 911 twice—by two different friends. It works when you need it. Use it. And do not abuse it.