Do you ever find yourself thinking of people who call 911 as “less than” or “other?”

Are you ever buried in a great book, only to be roused by a flurry of rings that leave you furious, wondering, “why would they bother me with these ridiculous calls!?”

Does your tone on the phone ever change because the person you’re talking to “should have handled this on their own” or because “they had no business calling us with this?”

In a job that is, at its base, a customer service gig, dehumanizing the callers to an extreme degree is an ugly place to be – and it does a grave disservice to reason that we’re here in the first place.

Let’s be clear from the outset: removing emotion from our 911 transactions is part and parcel of what we do. To openly feel and express at the expense of efficiency would waste precious time. Taking control, getting the info and getting the call entered is the name of the game.

When we’re new to 911, we are keenly aware of each caller and what they’re going through. We’re less likely to judge or devalue the caller’s purpose – we are, instead, focused on getting the info we need as efficiently as we can.

We’re talking to people, and we still feel it – even though we’re learning how to put feelings aside.

Over the long haul, our ability to discern and gather information becomes nearly automatic. We no longer need to consider how we will ask our questions or contemplate the correct time to interrupt a rambling caller. It becomes reflexive. We don’t even fully listen anymore, because we know how this song goes. We are no longer part of a human-to-human encounter. We are, instead, slogging through calls that are essentially identical to the calls from yesterday, and last week, last month and last year.

As veteran 911 call takers, we slowly become factory workers on an assembly line. The calls come to us, we do our thing, then we send them on down the proverbial conveyor belt. We don’t have the time or the wherewithal to give them much thought or to care much about where they came from or where they’re headed to. We just have our job to do at our spot on the line, and we can now do it in our sleep.

It is here, at the intersection of comfort and burnout, that we can so often begin to think of the people who call 911 as less than we are.

I’m not proud to admit that I referred to 911 callers as “these idiots” on more than a few occasions. I like to think that my attitude didn’t inform the way I worked, but it would be foolish to think otherwise.

Whether it was my tone, my audible lack of patience or my lack of discernable empathy (something that all callers can pick up on in an instant), I provided sub-par service to people who deserved more from me.

Make no mistake: My call entries were quick, my information gathering was top-notch, and my multitasking skills were on point. If you had asked me then if I were doing anything wrong, I would have responded with a resounding, “Nope! Following SOPs to the letter!”

Was I providing the best service, though? Should it matter if I wasn’t?

I wasn’t, and it should.

If you’ve ever called an insurance company, your internet provider or gone down to the DMV for a driver’s license renewal, you know what you generally expect before these transactions occur: That you will be treated as a waste of their time, or that they will stick to a script without listening to you or that you will be exposed to their abject misery and extreme lack of caring.

You are less than or other. How dare you waste their time.

Generally, that’s what you get, and it is infuriating.

But what happens when your expectations are exceeded during one of these encounters? When a customer service agent on the phone actually listens or when a DMV worker smiles and asks about your day?

It makes you feel human and cared for.

You notice, and it matters.

It doesn’t take much, and it doesn’t impede the necessities of the job to see and hear others and to treat them with the dignity that they deserve – particularly when you can get by without doing so.

I would suggest to you that we owe our customers no less in 911.

The next time you are angered by an “idiot” who “has no business calling,” remember the difference you can make by considering the true nature of the job and your role in elevating it.

They’ll notice, and it matters.

About Kris Inman:

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.