Hello [Insert congress person’s name here]:

We would like you to read this – and, with all due respect, please do so with the understanding that enough is enough.

For far too long 911 dispatchers have been treated as the forgotten lifeline of emergency response — essential yet somehow relegated to the background like extras in an action movie where cops, firefighters, and paramedics get top billing.

This isn’t just a minor oversight; it’s an outright injustice.

Manke no mistake: There isn’t a single 911 dispatcher who doesn’t believe that our user agencies deserve every bit of love and recognition that they get. It’s richly deserved and often earned with their blood, sweat and tears.

We’re simply asserting what should be patently obvious at this point:

911 professionals are legitimate first responders, just like they are.

It’s well past time to stop treating 911 like the invisible hand of fate and start giving us the same deference and respect afforded to our siren-blaring counterparts. The 911 SAVES Act needs to be prioritized and voted on, and the results should reflect bipartisan agreement.

In a political atmosphere fraught with difficulties, we’ve teed up an easy one that you can ALL take credit for achieving.

Our case is crystal clear.

Consider: when chaos erupts, before a single flashing light blazes through the night, before an officer shouts “We got a runner,” before a firefighter heroically kicks down a door, we are already in the fight.

The first voice a panicked caller hears isn’t some action-movie cop — it’s ours, working at lightning speed to extract life-or-death details from people who are often in full meltdown mode.

We are the puppet masters of the emergency world, orchestrating responses with a surgeon’s precision, all while ensuring that responders in the field don’t end up charging headfirst into a disaster unprepared.

Let’s talk about stress.

If you think our job is just answering phones, let us introduce you to our reality.

We listen to the sounds of sheer horror — gunfire, screaming, the desperate pleas of an anguished mother, clutching her lifeless infant — and we don’t get to break down, run away, or even swear loudly (that comes later).

We must stay calm, decisive, and professional, issuing life-saving instructions while juggling multiple incoming emergencies.

To do anything less would be potentially catastrophic. And we do it, time after time, call after call, shift after shift at the absolute highest level.

To be clear, we fully embrace what the job demands. We’re cut from the same cloth as those who respond to the scene, willingly charging into chaos, even when our instincts tell us to run away.

Ever tried walking someone through CPR while another caller is reporting a robbery in progress while you’re training a new employee, all while working your second double shift of the week?

Welcome to our Tuesday afternoon.

Despite what we’ve described thus far, you might still say, “But you don’t physically go to the scene.”

• As if being at the scene is the only measure of bravery
• As if being forced to listen, utterly helpless, as a domestic violence victim desperately whispers for help isn’t its own kind of hell
• As if the gut-wrenching silence after a suicide call doesn’t hang in the air long after our shift ends

We carry those calls home with us, tucked between our ribs like shrapnel. But do we get the same PTSD support as our field counterparts? Not usually. Because, apparently, being emotionally obliterated over the phone and on the radio isn’t quite traumatic enough for some.

Let’s talk about skill.

We are multitasking freaks of nature.

We are human Google searches, expert negotiators, and stress-proof communicators all rolled into one.

We must know how to instruct CPR, manage hostage situations, talk someone down from a crisis, and relay complex information to responders without a single beat of hesitation.

We do this while typing faster than a courtroom stenographer, flipping between radio channels like an air traffic controller, and keeping our voices steady no matter how horrifying the call on the other end.

Despite all of that, we’re still largely classified as “clerical workers.”

Sure.

In the same way that a brain surgeon is a “handyman.”

Let’s talk about what this job costs us.

The hours are brutal. The pay is often garbage. The turnover rate is catastrophic. Why? Because we experience the same trauma as field responders but without the appreciation, the support, or even the basic acknowledgment that what we do is life-altering.

Many of us don’t even get adequate mental health care, despite spending our shifts absorbing the collective trauma of an entire city. And while we hold the thin line between chaos and order, we’re too often treated as if we’re just taking dinner reservations.

This must change.

Not just on the state level for a select few, but nationally — for ALL of us.

Recognizing us as first responders isn’t just about respect — it’s about reality.

• It’s about ensuring we receive the mental health resources, the pay, and the protections we deserve
• It’s about making sure we’re not left out when we talk about emergency response
• It’s about making sure that when we thank our first responders, we include the ones behind the radio — the unsung heroes who are always there but rarely considered

So, the next time you consider first responders, remember this: before help arrives, before lives are saved, before the sirens wail, we are already fully engaged, giving every ounce of everything we have to ensure that responders get where they need to be equipped with the information necessary to provide crucial, timely assistance to those in desperate need of it.

We may not wear a badge or ride in a squad car, but we are every bit the lifeline that emergency response relies on.

Those who can’t recognize and respect that have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

It’s time.

911 professionals have always been here for you.

It’s time for you to be here for US.

Sincerely,

The First Responders of 911

 

Kris Inman is the Director of Program Development for The Healthy Dispatcher. A 30-year veteran of 9-1-1, Kris retired in July 2023 as Director of Springfield Greene County 9-1-1 in Springfield, MO. An awarded speaker and instructor, Kris has delivered standout educational sessions, keynotes, motivational talks and yoga instruction to dispatchers across the country. He is also a long-time college adjunct instructor, teaching courses in communication and public safety leadership. Kris holds a Master of Arts in Communication and a Bachelor of Science in Electronic Media from Missouri State University. He is also a registered yoga instructor.