Warning: Long and Boring post!
Read at your own risk.
I've never posted much on this blog about my job. Mostly because I'm terrible with words; terrible about describing anything with emotion (ask my husband! ha!). And I have never been in any situation that evokes more emotion than this job. I have been there nearly a year and still feel I learn every day and will never be as good as I want to be. I have the normal emotional struggles with being a full-time mom and work a full-time job. Those emotional struggles along with the emotional struggles of what I do and in the environment I do it are literally at times more than I can handle. But I keep seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes it's the light of "Oh, I think I'm getting this! I love my job!" And sometimes it's the light of "I think I can see myself quitting and being okay with it." And I am not joking when I say these two views alternated DAILY.
I found this little tribute on facebook and I wanted to record it, mostly for myself because it touched me. I wanted to share it because I've never said anything much about my job and wanted to explain what I do but this man does it much better than I ever could.
{A TRIBUTE TO DISPATCHERS
By Chief Thomas Wagoner, Loveland Co. PD
Someone once asked me if I thought that answering telephones for a living was a profession. I said, "I thought it was a calling." And so is dispatching. I have found in my law enforcement career that dispatchers are the unsung heroes of public safety. They miss the excitement of riding in a speeding car with lights flashing and sirens wailing. They can only hear of the bright orange flames leaping from a burning building. They do not get to see the joy on the face of worried parents as they see their child begin breathing on its own, after it has been given CPR.
Dispatchers sit in darkened rooms looking at computer screens and talking to voices from faces they never see. It's like reading a lot of books, but only half of each one.
Dispatchers connect the anxious conversations of terrified victims, angry informants, suicidal citizens and grouchy officers. They are the calming influence of all of them - the quiet, competent voices in the night that provide the pillars for the bridges of sanity and safety.
They are expected to gather information from highly agitated people who can't remember where they live, what their name is, or what they just saw. And then, they are to calmly provide all that information to the officers, firefighters, or paramedics without error the first time and every time.
Dispatchers are expected to be able to do five things at once - and do them well. While questioning a frantic caller, they must type the information into a computer, tip off another dispatcher, put another caller on hold, and listen to an officer run a plate for a parking problem.
To miss the plate numbers is to raise the officer's ire; to miss the caller's information may be to endanger the same officer's life. But, the officer will never understand that.
Dispatchers have two constant companions, other dispatchers and stress. They depend on one, and try to ignore the other.
They are chastened by upset callers, taken for granted by the public, and criticized by the officers. The rewards they get are inexpensive and infrequent, except for the satisfaction they feel at the end of a shift, having done what they were expected to do.
Dispatchers come in all shapes and sizes, all races, both sexes, and all ages. They are blondes, and brunettes, and redheads. They are quiet and outgoing, single, or married, plain, beautiful, or handsome. No two are alike, yet they are all the same. They are people who were selected in a difficult hiring process to do an impossible job. They are as different as snowflakes, but they have one thing in common. They care about people and they enjoy being the lifeline of society - that steady voice in a storm - the one who knows how to handle every emergency and does it with style and grace; and, uncompromised competence.
Dispatchers play many roles; therapist, doctor, lawyer, teacher, weatherman, guidance counselor, psychologist, priest, secretary, supervisor, politician, and reporter. And few people must jump through the emotional hoops on the trip through the joy of one callers birthday party, to the fear of another callers burglary in progress, to the anger of a neighbor blocked in their drive, and back to the birthday callers all in a two minute time frame. The emotional roller coaster rolls to a stop after an 8 or 10 hour shift, and
they are expected to walk down to their car with steady feet and no queasiness in their stomach - because they are dispatchers. If they hold it in, they are too closed. If they talk about it, they are a whiner. If it bothers them, it adds more stress. If it doesn't, they question themselves, wondering why.
Dispatchers are expected to have:
-the compassion of Mother Theresa;
-the wisdom of Solomon;
-the interviewing skills of Oprah Winfrey;
-the gentleness of Florence Nightingale;
-the patience of Job;
-the voice of Barbara Streisand;
-the knowledge of Einstein;
-the answers of Ann Landers;
-the humor of David Letterman;
-the investigative skills of Sgt. Joe Friday;
-the looks of Melanie Griffith or Don Johnson;
-the faith of Billy Graham;
-the energy of Charo;
-and the endurance of the Energizer Bunny.
*Guessing this was written a while ago...Melanie Griffith? Barbara Streisand?? Really?*
Is it any wonder that many drop out during training? It is a unique and talented person who can do this job and do it well.}
I am not saying I personally am any of these great things. I go to work every day and I try my hardest every single day and I do get satisfaction from that. Somehow, however, a lot of days go to crap no matter my best efforts. Sometimes the dynamics in the office are, off, shall we say. Sometimes a tragedy strikes close to home and it changes us. I honestly try to take it one day at a time. I find joy in the victories (no matter how small and personal they may be). I also find humor in the smallest things wherever I can. And lastly I allow myself to feel sad whenever I want to! I feel sad for the women who frequently call for violence in their homes. And for the gentleman who keeps calling regarding his mother's fatal accident. But you know what? No matter what overall emotion I leave the dispatch center with on any given night, I ALWAYS have an underlying sense of GRATITUDE for all the blessings I have. I always feel grateful for my husband, because we get along great. I feel grateful for my parents raising me to know drugs ruin your life - I didn't have to figure that out on my own. And I feel grateful for the gospel because it gives me peace in every aspect of my life.
Phew! I really don't know where this post came from. I hope no one had to call 911 for you because you fell unconsious from boredom. I'll post on something not-so-heavy soon! :)
