Letter To A 911 Dispatcher: My Best Friend

My dearest friend,

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately as I continue researching the effects 911 Dispatch work has on people as they make their way through a career of helping people. In every interview, the fact that we are all affected mentally, emotionally and physically is solidified. No one comes away from the headset unscathed. Then there’s the current climate externally where it feels all things law enforcement are viewed with skepticism, defiance and hatred. Yet, all these men and women continue to do their jobs with professionalism and compassion as they are faced with name calling, entitlement and disrespect. Everyone knows how you should do your job. Everyone pays your salary. Few callers recognize and respond to the fact that you are human too. Then there’s the field responders. I’d like to believe that they are always respectful and appreciative, but unfortunately, they can also be belittling, demanding and a pain in the bum. Sometimes it seems to come from all sides. So, you get all of this while at the same time facing staffing shortages, mandatory overtime, and really really really long shifts. All the experts recommend good self care and administration talks a good talk about how you should be doing this, but at the same time allows no space to actually do it. I’m watching you struggle with filling the needs at work, being a reliable employee and still finding time to just get out and take a walk or even step away from the console and get some fresh air. It’s hard to watch.

You had been with the department for around 3 years when I waltzed in, a fresh faced kid just finishing a tour in the Navy and barely out of my teens. You had a reputation as a competent dispatcher that the officers had learned to trust implicitly and when I started my radio training, I aspired to earn the same kind of respect that you had from the field. Looking back, I hope my perception that I came close is accurate. During the next 7 ½ years, we became great friends. We spent hours and hours and hours beside each other working the radio and taking 911 calls. We knew each other’s families. We celebrated birthdays and holidays together. (Ok, we celebrated my birthday because I loved them but not yours because you don’t.) We remained fast friends through marriages, births, divorces and graduations. We worked side by side through police tragedies, pursuits and assaults. We kept each other sane during one of the toughest years of our lives, taking turns sobbing while the other handled the officer’s information requests. Then after 7 ½ years, I had had enough of the stress and the internal conflict and the city. I resigned and moved away. That was 12 years ago. You remained, constant, steadfast and determined to continue making a difference in a difficult job.

After I left, I never forgot my roots and continued researching, writing about and speaking on topics that affected my 911 Dispatcher colleagues. I watched you struggle with the stress and becoming hardened, bitter and jaded. We talked a lot about the sorrows that came with the work. I hoped that you were reading my work when I wrote about self-care and the things you needed to be mindful of to survive to retirement. I’m confident that you did because I’ve seen you soften, regain your compassion and stop fighting the whole world. And it’s not been only you I’ve been watching. I left behind some of the most wonderful people who continue to do this job day in and day out. Sadly some have been broken by this work. I see the effects etched in their faces, their prematurely graying hair, their stooped backs and their weight gain. I observe the consequences in their failed relationships and overindulgence in substances, food and alcohol. I mourn for the fresh faced kids they all once were. But, I rejoice in you as I see you break free of this. I clap gleefully every time you post about making the time to take your dogs for a walk, spend an evening with our family and, especially, open your heart to someone outside this line of work. You’ve given 23 years of your life as a 911 Dispatcher. You’ve grown up in this job and you still get up and head in every day. For that, I have such a deep respect. You have less than 5 years left and like so many of your colleagues you’re counting the days. You can’t wait until you say, “10-7, Good night,” for the last time. Until that day, I hope you will continue to breath, exercise, eat well, drink lots of water, take trips, have adventures, laugh, love and live. That is my wish for everyone who keeps on keeping on in this business.

People don’t say it enough so let me tell you.

You are so appreciated and important.

You make such a difference in the world.

You are amazing.

Thank you for all you do.