The first critical incident call we take as 911 telecommunicators is the one that determines whether we are capable of what the job demands.

Especially when that call involves a child.

Anyone who works in 911 will tell you that, despite what you see on TV, 80% of the calls that come in are a familiar “call salad” consisting of parking calls, traffic calls, alarms, stealing incidents and disturbances (or some semblance therein). Over a fairly short period of time, these calls begin to mesh into one big bowl of undertakings that become easy to process with little thought given to them afterward.

Other than asking the proper questions and following policy and procedure, these calls don’t tend to take much of a toll beyond making sure that all our training bases are covered. A modicum of comfort settles in after a few repeats.

But the critical incident call involving a child is the one we train for. It’s the call we anticipate most, every time the phone rings.

We know it’s coming, and we know we’ve been trained to be ready.

Still, we wonder. We hope that we can be who we need to be when it comes; that we can set aside the horror and the unimaginable pain that will wash over us as we hear it.

All the training, the call simulations, and the shared wisdom of those who have taken these calls before us somehow don’t feel like enough when we hear a parent’s raw anguish or a child’s pain in a call that we are taking.

It is at that moment that people who have chosen to attempt 911 as a career find out for themselves if it is something that they can actually do as a career.

For many, this call leads to the exit door. There is no shame in that.

To be able to compartmentalize a call like this while taking the next, as if nothing happened, is simply not what most people are wired to endure.

But, for those who are able to continue forward, a series of realizations slowly become stunningly apparent:

• I can be there for someone I do not know.
• I can do what needs to be done in the face of unimaginable trauma.
• I am stronger than I ever imagined.
• I am needed more than I ever knew.
• I have become something far more than I thought I could be.

It is at this moment that we begin to evolve into what the job demands.

Discovering that you are capable of far more than you realized is, perhaps, the greatest payoff of working in 911. And the initial critical incident call in which children are involved is the first, most important test of that concept.

As 911 people will tell you, this isn’t the only test. The first time a responder is in trouble while you are on the radio is a test of mettle. Taking calls that involve people you know is extraordinarily challenging. Calls involving injured animals can be difficult to hear and overcome.

And there are many more still.

But nearly all of us find that our careers are separated between the way we performed the job before we took that difficult call and our place in 911 after.

For many (if not most), working in 911 is a result of another job (or series of jobs) not working out, or it is the unintended consequence of a job search begun with nothing particular in mind. It is seldom the culmination of a long-sought journey with a comm center as the pre-planned destination.

This almost accidental nature of even being in the job to begin with makes the heroic work of those doing it even more improbable – and more worthy of celebration, admiration, and reverence.

The challenges and potential obstacles are many – from the multitasking to the hours worked, and so much in between.

But for the people of 911, the initial critical incident call is the ultimate test of what it means to move beyond what we think we are capable of. When kids are involved, the challenge is extraordinary.

It changes us at our core, in ways we weren’t necessarily supposed to be changed.

For the veterans, the long-haulers and the life-timers, that first emotionally critical call is the beginning of true public service at its most crucial.

It is the moment we become something far more that we thought we could be.

 

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.