“Hello, my name is Kris and I’m an interrupter. It’s been two days since I last completed someone’s story for them.”

911 training imbues us with all sorts of astounding abilities (see my “Dispatch Avengers” article for more on specific superpowers). These enduring abilities tend to weave themselves into our DNA, restructuring the way we see and react to people.

Regrettably, some of these powers align us more with super-villainy than with gallantry when interacting in the non-911 world.

Case in point: my now complete and total inability to actively, calmly listen as someone attempts to speak to me like non-911 humans tend to do.

You know the type of conversation I’m talking about – long winded, circular, filled with redundant narratives, bewildering detours and complete deviations from the original theme.

I’m describing the way normal people talk. I mean no disrespect with this description, nor am I attempting to suggest anyone who speaks this way is doing a single thing wrong.

What I AM saying is that for people trained to answer 911 calls, it is the literal stuff of nightmares.

One of the first skills required of a 911 call taker is something I call Aggressive Selective Listening (henceforth referred to as AgSL).  It’s an integral part of the gig, and one of the most necessary skills that new call takers must master. It’s where you find your ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ voice, the one you must unholster and blast at callers who need to be shaken by their figurative lapels when you need info RIGHT NOW.

Listening for only what you need – and guiding people to give it to you quickly – is to 911 call takers what fielding groundballs is to baseball players. It’s a routine, basic skill that must be reflexively employed at a moment’s notice while at work. I’ll admit that this isn’t the greatest comparison, because baseball players can take the glove off and not expect a screaming one-hopper at the dinner table.

But 911 call takers can expect a series of rambling, unfocused and meandering attempts at communication at the dinner table – our version of the screaming one-hopper — and it’s nearly impossible for us to take the gloves off when they arise.

Trust me on this if you’re just getting started in your 911 gig — AgSL will reveal itself any time someone speaks to you, and it can’t be turned off.

While you may be unaware that you now listen to others like you “listen” to 911 calls, the people in your life know. They dread conversations with you because they know you’ll be finishing them for them.

You are an interrupter.

Let me share a slice-of-life recreation of how it feels for people trained in AgSL to attempt to act like a regular person when someone is telling them a story. I apologize in advance for the sting of uncomfortable familiarity it will trigger.

Friend: “So, Kris, let me tell you about this cool vacation we went on. It was so awesome. So, first . . . no, wait, before that we started talking about going somewhere else. . . “

Me: [fidgeting uncomfortably]

Friend: “Oh, wait, was that last year we were planning that other thing? Anyway – no, wait, it was. That was the trip we were going to take the year before, I think . . .”

Me: [visibly sweating, twitchy]

Friend: “So, once we started the planning, we were talking about several possibilities, but you have to know what everyone wants, as far as where we’re going to go . . . “

Me: [jaws clenching and unclenching]

Friend: So, we made our decision, and we were sort of sure about where we . . . “

Me: [all semblance of control now lost] “WHERE DID YOU GO? WHEN DID YOU GO THERE? WHO WENT WITH YOU? WHEN DID YOU COME BACK?

And . . . scene.

I know how much this sucks for others. I know it’s rude. I want to be a better, more attentive listener, particularly for those I care for.

I want to kick the interrupter habit.

I’ve even considered creating an “AgSL Anonymous” group, serving dispatch types who suck at listening.

Like me.

Make no mistake: 911 folks are great at being calm when others can’t and are known for their superhuman resiliency, among so many other incredible skills.

But know, too, that there are lingering abilities that . . . don’t come off as noble in the non-911 world.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a support group meeting to plan.

Please don’t bother talking to me about it.

I likely won’t be listening.

 

About Kris Inman:

Kris Inman is the Director of Program Development for The Healthy Dispatcher. A 29-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.