Episode 150 features Don, a Dispatch Manager at Sonoma County SO and Lee Ann, Dispatch Manager with Marin County SO out of California. In this episode we follow the 9-1-1 stories of Don and Lee Ann from the beginning to present day. We talk about the calls that stick with a person and those that can make or break ones career. This episode was recorded live at the National NENA conference in San Antonio, Texas and is a must listen.
As always if you have any comments, questions or you would like to be a guest on the show send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Episode topics –
- Don’s 9-1-1 story
- Lee Ann’s 9-1-1 story
- 9-1-1 calls that stick
- 9-1-1 calls that make or break a career
- Don’s life size pic of Rob
- And more
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By Ricardo — 9 months ago
Today, August 24 2017 marks the one year anniversary of when I started the #IAM911 movement. In this episode we will take a look back at why I started it, the explosion, media coverage and the future of the movement. It has been one hell of a year and I thank all of you for the support. I may have started this but it is because of the entire Thin Gold Line that made it a global success.
If you have any comments, questions or you would like to be a guest on the show send an email to email@example.com.
Episode topics –
Post Views: 135
- Medical recap
- A look back at episode 114
- #IAM911 explosion
- Media coverage
By Ricardo — 4 months ago
“To walk among heroes”
Guest blog post –
Written by –
Billy Short – Technical Trainer with RPSS
It was the last class of my training assignment for a PSAP in Louisiana. The training part of my class was over, so I broke into my post class “appreciation speech.” Since becoming a technical trainer for 911 dispatchers, my eyes had been opened to things that I guess, I had always taken for granted. I shared with the class how that I, as a citizen, truly appreciated the work that dispatchers perform. I had come to realize that most dispatchers were never truly recognized, or honestly appreciated for their work. I shared with them how that I had come to believe that they were the “first”, first responders. I had witnessed many community organizations and churches having appreciation events for other First Responder heroes, but I noticed that the members of the dispatch teams were never given a seat at that table of honor.
I shared how that now, I somewhat understood the roller coaster of emotion that a 911 calltaker could be on, simply by answering the next ringing telephone. I knew that one minute they would be able to feel their blood pressure rise in aggravation to a caller wondering when the electrical power would be restored to their neighborhood, or a caller wanting the phone number to the local tax office. To answering the next call and experiencing the desperate cries of a mother that had just pulled the lifeless body of her toddler from a swimming pool. I shared with the class my appreciation for their professionalism when taking a call from someone who just seemed to be having a difficult day, and needing to complain to someone, to the next call from someone that is having the absolute worse day of their life because their mate of 52 years was lying in the floor unresponsive.
I thanked them for doing the often-thankless job of giving CPR instructions over the phone until EMS arrived at the scene. I thanked them for trying to comfort a scared child, who left alone in the house, hears a scary noise outside. I tried my best to express my love, admiration, and appreciation for the job that they do, day in, day out, around the clock, and through the holidays. I also extended to them my friendship. Even though it would probably be limited to social media, or text messaging. I told them that if they ever needed someone to listen, someone to pray for them, someone to talk to, that I would be willing to be that guy.
I ended my speech with another, heart-felt “Thank You!” After the group began to file out of the room, one guy, kind of hung back a little. I could tell that my “speech” was having some sort of emotional effect on him. When the room emptied, this hulk of a dispatcher walked up to me, with tears now beginning to roll down his face, he asked if he could give me a hug. Of course, I obliged, and bear hugged him right back. With a soft voice he began to thank me. He simply stated that the job had begun to get to him, and that he didn’t know if he could keep going on. But that my speech had reminded him that it wasn’t a job that he performed. It was his calling! He told me that he was fired up and ready to get back out onto the floor and be the professional, the call-taker, the first responder that he was called to be. By this time, tears were in my eyes. I thanked him for sharing part of his story with me. And I thanked God for the little part that I had played in this First Responder Hero’s life calling!
Through social media, I found out a few months after that day, that my dispatcher friend had gotten off work, went home, went to sleep, and never woke up again. I felt the tears coming again! That scene at the door of the training room played back over in my mind. I felt an unexplainable sense of loss. That may sound strange. I had only spent a few hours in a training class with him. I never knew his life story. I never knew his family. I never knew his favorite food or color. But in his death, I knew that the world had lost a hero. To some, he was just a voice on the other end of a phone line. To some, he was just somebody that answered phones for a living. For some, he was just an operator that would give out a phone number. But I can’t help but believe that there were countless people whose lives had been saved, broken hearts comforted, and fears calmed, by this straw haired colored man. I believe that there were firefighters and police officers, that were made heroes of situations because this dispatcher sent them on their way. I believe that the world was a better place, and a safer place because of a that faceless voice on the other end of a mic, or telephone. And I believe that a dispatch team, lost a brother, that could never quite be replaced. And to me, I am reminded that my job is more than a job. It is a calling. A calling to walk among heroes! A calling to play my part in the training of giants! I want to be the best trainer that I can be, so that heroes and giants can be the best dispatcher that they can be!Post Views: 1,163
By Ricardo — 7 years ago
I’m sure you have all taken a random trip some time in your life and whether it turned out good or bad it was still an experience. One of my random trips includes my first Greyhound bus ride from Michigan to Florida. My cousin Mike and I started out in South Haven and the bus station was a hole where it shared a building with dry cleaners and a gyro stand. It was odd but what could we do? The up side of it all was that there was a table top style arcade game of Ms. Pacman and we played until the bus arrived. When it finally did show up we boarded and it was pretty nice. The seats were cozy and had lots of room and we felt that we were headed for a smooth trip. And…We were wrong!
Once we made our switch in Michigan City the quality of bus went down, way down. The seats were small, the bus was loud, and the stench from the bathroom was bad and it was hot. We were second guessing our decision but we proceeded with our adventure. We made plenty of stops but I want to highlight on the memorable ones like Chicago. By the time we got to Chicago we were hungry and tired. We went from a stank ass bus to a stank ass bus station. We got in line to get some food and it was set up like a high school cafeteria. We were looking at the food and it was rank! The site and quality was right out of “Rapper’s Delight”, “The macaroni’s soggy, the peas are mushed, and the chicken tastes like wood”. Yep they described it just right but the peas in Chicago had that stale smell to them and were topped with a brown film. We decided to eat burnt burgers and soggy fries and although the food sucked and the place smelled something awful there was a highlight. When we left I was looking out the window and saw a homeless man sitting out back on a recliner and he threw a thumbs up to me. It might seem sad but it was the coolest thing to me.
When we got into Kentucky the entire bus was ready to take out the bus driver. The guy was one of those people that you want to clock in the face and shout, “That’ll learn ya!” At one of our stops he tells us that he is not staying long and for us not to get off. There was an older male up front who had the type of crutches that are clasped around both arms and he said he really had to go. The bus driver yelled at him to hurry up or he would have to catch the next bus. I shit you not we were not there ten minutes and the guy shut the door and left. We were all yelling at him to stop and the guy was just walking out of the station and the bus driver yelled at us to shut up and that he warned him. We left the poor guy there and his luggage was still on the bus. We were all angry and sad but our spirits were lifted when we passed a sign on the highway that said, “Batcave next exit”. Bruce Wayne’s hideout was no longer a secret and yes this seems insensitive but what else could we do or say?
The adventure was pretty interesting and when we were in Tennessee we met a cute hippie chick that resembled Natalie Portman and she gave us her pillow. It was signed, “The Hippie Chick”. We made stops in places that one would not dare get off to have a movement for fear that Leatherface or some other oddity would come out and snatch you. The most vial of all bus stops was in Jacksonville. The food was fine and it had some old school arcade games that I used to play at Aladdin’s Castle in the Westshore Mall but the people were something odd and raunchy. We were sitting at the station and I glanced to the left and noticed a girl walking out of the bathroom. I had to do a double take on her and it wasn’t because she was good looking, it was because she walked out of the men’s bathroom. She stumbled around and appeared drunk. She wore a pink tank top and a very short hot pink skirt with black heels. I’m sure you know where this is going, or do you?
I nudged my cousin and told him to look and when we both turned to look at her again we noticed something fall on the floor. She chuckled and ran out of the station. We tried to see what it was but the janitor got to it first. We heard him gag and we stood up. The janitor was bent over gagging and shouted,
“It’s a condom!”
We laughed and watched as he tried to get it into the garbage can. At that time our bus had arrived and we had to get in line to board. As we walked up to the line we passed a lady who was passed out and laying down on the seats in the main waiting area. My cousin and I stood in line and we could hear her snoring. People were trying to wake her up and I thought they should leave her alone and let her rest but I noticed there was another reason they were trying to wake her. I focused my attention underneath the seats she was laying on and it appeared that she had an accident. Yes folks, there was a large puddle underneath her and when she finally woke she hobbled her wetness to the bathroom to clean up. We thought we had seen it all until we boarded to head to Orlando.
On our way to Orlando we met the Hamburger Guy. I have no idea what the hell his name was but my cousin Mike and I have a good reason for calling him this. Hamburger Guy (HG) was dressed in a stained muscle shirt, cargo shorts, and ratty flip flops. He sat in front of us, turned around and asked if we could smell him. We told him no and he replied with,
“Really? Wow! I only asked because I’m sweating like hell and my pits stink like hamburger.”
We busted up laughing to the point that our stomachs hurt and he said,
“Hey hey, watch this.”
He walked to the back where a girl sat and he asked her the same thing. She actually took a wiff and said she couldn’t smell hamburger but you could see on her face that she was going to blow stacks all over the bus. Finally HG went up front where an elderly man was asleep. He sat in back of him and put his arm up by the old man. HG began to fan his hamburger stench toward the face of the man and the man started twitching like he was having a bad dream. The guy must have smelled pretty bad for the old man to twitch but he never woke up. It was funny and we were cracking up. The adventure was an experience that I will never forget and although we had fun and met some interesting people, I will never ride a GREYHOUND bus again!Post Views: 87