So, you’re considering one of the most exclusive and difficult to master professions on the planet.

Before we begin, some housekeeping items:

• Do not come here for the glory (there isn’t a whole lot)
• Do not come here for the fame (If you aren’t anonymous, it usually isn’t good)
• Do not come here for the praise (your mistakes could be on TV)

Come here because something in you wants to help when others run, to bring order when things fall apart, and to do it all with a headset on and a pen that, at shift’s end, has either disappeared or dramatically changed in shape and texture because of all your incessant gnawing.

Are you still here?

Thus beginith the lesson.

Lesson One: Everyone Thinks They Know What You Do

They don’t.

People will say, “You answer 911 calls?” like you work a T-Mobile kiosk at the mall. Smile politely. There’s no way to explain that what you actually do is juggle a cardiac arrest, a suicidal teen, a house fire, a traffic stop, and a suspicious cow while updating CAD, working three radios, and crocheting a fetching scarf — all without satisfying a need to pee that has become so urgent, you are considering covertly voiding your bladder into your giant turquoise Stanley cup.

Lesson Two: Multitasking Isn’t a Buzzword — It’s Your Operating System

You will type, talk, think, listen, update, prioritize, direct and try to remember every actor who played in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (It popped into your head at the beginning of the shift and you’ll be damned if you’re going to let it go before you can name each of them) — all at once. You’ll do these things while also trying to decipher someone’s location from “I’m by the thing, near the other thing,” or calming a screaming caller while simultaneously giving CPR instructions and mentally preparing to explain street blocks to a brand-new trainee. That same brand-new trainee will NOT be able to help you remember the cast of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, because you will realize that these damned kids today haven’t even seen The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

Lesson Three: Food is Theoretical

You will eat through a snake-like process of flexible jaw whole-swallowing — and do it within 30 seconds — or not at all. Food will be reheated three times. The phrase, “Uh-oh, somebody’s hangry” will be uttered in hushed tones when coworkers see you in this state, and your personal space will be respected until such time as food can be consumed and the presumption of safety can be fully restored.

Lesson Four: The Calm in Someone’s Nightmare (Then On to the Next Call)

You’ll hear things you can’t un-hear. Screams that rattle. The sound someone makes when they realize everything just changed — and not in a good way. Sometimes, just silence. Some of those calls will cling to you like glitter at a craft store. You’ll find traces of them at 3 a.m., in traffic, mid-toothbrushing, and other random times when you were not emotionally prepared for their visits. Others will plant themselves quietly in the background, not saying much, just… existing. You will stay composed. Give help. You’ll learn to shelve your emotions like unlabeled cans in a basement pantry (Are they beans? Are they tears? No time to check). You’ll do it because weirdly, terrifyingly, impressively… you can. And that moment — the one where you realize you actually can — will be one of many to come in which you begin to understand that you are capable of far more than you ever realized.

Lesson Five: You’ll Become a Professional “Voice Illusionist”

You will develop the ability to perform verbal sleights of hand that would make David Copperfield proud, with enough dramatic flair to keep your “audience” believing. “We’ll get someone to you as soon as possible,” you’ll say to emotionally charged callers. Technically, it will be true. Help does exist; it’s just seldom going to take five minutes like it does on TV. Our “soon” is more likely at least 57 minutes out, tied up with a bar fight, a cement mixer in a ditch, or someone threatening their neighbor with a frozen turkey.

Lesson Six: No One Claps When You Hang Up — and Loose Ends Remain

There is no applause. No resolution. The baby might live. The officer might be okay. The fire might be contained. You won’t always know. You will move to the next call without answers, closure, or thanks. This will become so ingrained that when (or, perhaps, if) you DO get a “thanks” or closure or good news, you’ll take a few seconds to test reality, ensuring that you are a corporeal being breathing actual air. You will come to cherish these rare moments, and you won’t forget them.

Lesson Seven: You’ll Laugh Like You Have Lost the Last Vestiges of Your Sanity

You will often laugh so hard at your coworkers that you’ll blow snot bubbles. Your face will take on Muppet-like proportions as you lose yourself in an open-mouthed guffawing so intense, no sound will escape due to the sheer brutality of your laughter (you will also stop breathing during these moments). You will awaken in the morning feeling as if you’ve been battered in an MMA fight, and you will initially wonder how you can be so sore when you did little more than sit 14 hours the night before. Then, you will remember the violent hilarity brought on by your coworkers, and you will start hysterically laughing at the memory, formally dislodging your rib cartilage.

Lesson Eight: Your Coworkers (some of your coworkers) Will Become Your Family

You’ll go through hell together — shift after shift, storm after storm, crisis after crisis. And somehow, even after all that shared chaos, there will still be a few coworkers you’d strongly consider not extinguishing if they burst into flames. But the ones who do become your people? They’ll be the closest friends you’ve ever had. The kind you’d trust with your life—and your snacks. They’ll see you at your worst and still trust you with their lives. You’ll occasionally fight like siblings, but you’ll defend each other like soldiers while sharing a language only dispatchers speak. You will, over time, come to realize that these people are the greatest gifts of your dispatch career.

Lesson Nine: The Headset Will Change You

You’ll start noticing addresses without thinking. You’ll instinctively clock all exit points in any building you enter. You’ll say “vehicle” instead of “car.” When people start to ramble – even those you love – you’ll begin to seize. You will sniff out deception, deflection or discomfort in all the people in your orbit in two syllables or less. Your proclivity for finishing others’ sentences in standard conversations will become, along with your complete inability to actively listen, your defining characteristics.

Lesson Ten: Gabba Gabba, One of Us. We Accept You, One of Us

If you’ve made it this far, welcome! Soon, your DNA will be rewired for dispatch. Friends and family in your non-911 life will begin to notice . . . changes. They’ll learn to accept your deep need to control everything and try not to take your near-feral phone call brevity personally. Others will just quietly wonder when, exactly, you “turned rude.” (Note: You didn’t. You just got efficient).

Are you still here?

Pull up a chair and grab a headset.

It’s time to get to work, and we have no time to waste.

We need you.

Thus endeth the lesson.

 

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.