Slightly Off the Mark

We got a new radio system in our dispatch center, and the guy training us on it claimed we could use it at home, on a laptop.

This is a great idea in theory: It would save me gas, and clothes would be cheaper if all I had to buy was pajamas. Of course, video 911 is coming, and callers might not be comfortable with my Star Trek onesie.

Actually, callers might not like seeing me no matter what clothes I'm wearing.

"You got what stuck WHERE?"

This is my thirtieth year celebrating Public Safety Telecommunications Week, which is in April between the snow storms, brush fires, and tornadoes. Since the title's so long, I started calling it PSTW, which is kind of ironic because PSTW sounds a lot like PTSD. Everyone who's dispatched longer than seven years gets to know both. It's science.

Here's the strange thing: I'm burned out on this job. Once too often I've picked up the 911 line only to hear hysterical screaming. Once too often I was the last person someone ever talked to. Once too often the name of a victim or suspect ended up being someone I knew.

Yet it's still the best full time job I ever had.

I actually do wear a cape, but only at home when no one is watching. But yay, cookie! Better keep it away from the dog.

Maybe it's because we're actually doing something important. That's a weird thing to define when it comes to jobs, because the best paying ones often are the least important. When a family member is having a heart attack, you don't call your favorite sportsball player for an ambulance. For that matter, when your water pipe bursts you don't look up the number for Beyonce, or Reba McEntire. (Actually, Reba could probably help.)

But that's the way it goes, and at least I've never been stalked by a 911 groupie.

 

I know the artist!

 

 

If you've considered being a dispatcher, I'd encourage it. It's way more important than being a security guard at the Oscars. Also, you have to be bad at it to lose your job--the demand for dispatchers just continues to go up.

Still, it can be just a bit stressful. When I'm talking to new people, I like to give them a few tips they don't get in formal training:

No matter what the caller says when you pick up the line, never reply with "You gotta be kidding me."

Always know if you have a live mic. Always.

Try to avoid cursing in dispatch--see above about live mics.

Well ... at least try not to curse too much.

If you have to scream in the bathroom, turn the water on first.

 

 

Yes, you are a first responder. When 911 rings, you're the first to respond to whatever the problem is. All the others have the advantage of knowing that problem, because you find out.

Hold your temper if your 911 caller starts with, "This isn't actually an emergency ..." Deal with it if the business line rings and it is an emergency. So it goes.

If you have to bang your head against a wall, choose a different place each time, to avoid damage to the concrete.

And finally: If the melatonin gives you nightmares, try sleepytime tea. Sleep is precious.

On a related note, that idea of dispatching on a laptop from home? No. I already have dreams in which I come downstairs and find the dispatch center has been moved to my living room, and I'm the only dispatcher. Besides, I like my Star Trek onesie, and Star Wars pajama bottoms just wouldn't be the same.

 

 

Buy some books, just in case of an emergency:


·        Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

·        Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

·        Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

·        Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

·        Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

·        Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

·        Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

·        Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

·        Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

·        Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

·        Substack:  https://substack.com/@markrhunter

·        Tumblr:  https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

·        Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

·        Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

 So, I'm retiring. Not from my full time job of dispatching to become a Gentleman Author, as I wanted. (It's like a Gentleman Farmer, a rich person who just farms as a hobby. No real farmer is a Gentleman Farmer, especially considering their ungentlemanly language while going through bills.)

At my full time job we got an email pointing out, now that one of the Sheriff Department detectives has retired, I have the most seniority of anyone there or in dispatch. By six years. Maybe in the entire Noble County Government, although I'm not motivated to find out.

Nor will I retire from writing, until they pry my fingers from the keyboard. Maybe not even then, if I can manage text to speech. No, I'm retiring from what I've done longest (other than biological functions) in my adult life: firefighting.

 That's Phil Jacob standing beside me, holding his pin for being a firefighter for 55 (!) years. I remain unconvinced Phil will ever retire. In fact, I should put off working on my Haunted Noble County book, because fifty years from now he'll be haunting the Albion firehouse. When I look at him (or Tom Lock, who joined up six months before I did), I realize I'd never have the most seniority on the Albion Fire Department.

I don't know how they do it. I beat my body down too badly. After working a fire, I'd be in so much pain I couldn't function for days. My back pain goes all the way back to back to back fires way back in the 80s, where I wore a steel air tank for longer than even a young pup should. It got progressively worse, and I slowly realized over the last few years that I was threatening to become another victim to treat at an emergency scene, instead of contributing.

The tanks are a lot lighter now, but I'm a lot heavier. And I have less hair.

In the last year I developed shoulder problems. Recently my knees started acting up, in a temper tantrum kind of way. (And they make strange noises.) I've got arthritis in my big toe, for crying out loud. Ever since Covid, it's been all I can do to get through a day without falling asleep on the couch. Okay, maybe six decades of living has more to do with that than Covid.

I'm not complaining so much as explaining. I loved firefighting. The guys and gals who volunteer at the AFD, and our neighboring departments, are my brothers and sisters--they're family. But I couldn't even go to the station much, especially between those murderous 12-hour night shifts in dispatch that wouldn't happen if I was a gentleman author.

But I put it off. I didn't want to admit I can't do something I used to be able to do. When I finally told my wife I was pulling the plug, she wasn't a bit surprised. Most likely no one was.

So I wrote the membership a letter, and a few weeks later, when we walked into the annual AFD Appreciation Dinner, I saw my name tag and a helmet with my number on it. It was real. I had by then reached the depression stage of grief. I'll let you know when the acceptance stage arrives.

Here's Brian Tigner, a hard worker for the AFD, giving me my stuff and telling me they'd just as soon I left through the back door. Kidding! The reconditioned barn where we had dinner was awesome.

Wow, this turned out to be more of a downer than I'd planned. It's not all bad: I'll stay on as an honorary member, doing the Facebook page, taking pictures, doing public information stuff, and so on. I'm also halfway done with that new AFD book, which keeps getting put on the back burner for one reason after another. But I'm thinking of going to this year's Fish Fry as a diner instead of a server ... that concrete floor is hell on my back.

I look good in red flannel. I do, TOO.

To this day, I don't know how I worked up the courage to walk into that firehouse door on my eighteenth birthday. Me, the shy, antisocial introvert with no interest in being on a team--except this one. Every time I headed up to the station, I stepped outside my comfort zone. If I hadn't I'd have missed most of the events of my life, and I wonder then if I would have ever had anything to write about.

And for every bad thing I experienced, there were a dozen great things.

• Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
• Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"
• Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter
• Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/
• Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/
• Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter
• Substack:  https://substack.com/@markrhunter
• Tumblr:  https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

If you send a book to every retired person you know, they might not complain that you never come to see them.