I ran into Steve at the local Gas-and-Go today. We had a long chat. I hadn't seen him in over a year.
Steve left our fire department a couple of years ago because he no longer had time to devote as a volunteer, and he was struggling to make ends meet. He needed every hour of his day to be available for work. It had been seven years since he had finally decided at the age of 37 to follow his dream to become a career firefighter, and although he poured himself into the job and every training opportunity, he never seemed to get high enough on any lists to get his career badge.
He wasn't one of those guys that just was never going to make it, he nearly always made the list where he tested, usually in the 20s or 30s at the bigger agencies, in the teens or better at the smaller ones. We all told him that he just needed to keep after it and eventually he'd get in.
When he left our agency, he hoped to get on at a smaller outfit with less activity demands so he could keep the dream alive, but today, he told me that he had finally just let it all go and let his EMT lapse as well.
He needed a shave, and he needed new shoes. He's a good-looking guy, but just not getting any breaks. He was trying to keep his eyes dry and voice steady as we talked about his family. Trouble at home with the wife, but they're keeping things together for the kids for better or worse as long as they can, trying to do the right thing. Upside down on his house equity, and just barely making ends meet with his contracting work.
I've been very fortunate to get a lot of breaks, and I wish I could share some of mine with Steve. He's just sad and far away right now. He needed a hug and I gave him one, and he was unable to stifle a single light sob for that.
Some of us are pretty heady guys, we've got our nice trucks and boats and enjoy a brew with the brothers on someone's back deck from time to time, looking sharp in our FD T-shirts and badass sunglasses. Living the dream.
There isn't much we can do for the Steves of the world to get them into the career gig, but it is worth respecting the commitment they have first to their families by not letting the FD totally consume their lives until they lose everything else. Steve saw the cliff approaching and withdrew from the race before he lost it all, and that is an amazingly honorable thing to do. You don't have to have a badge to be honorable.
Next time you're hanging around with the guys and living the dream, make sure you take a good look around and drink it in. Appreciate what you have, because it is a gift that has no substitute and should not be taken for granted.
God bless, Steve. I'll be praying for you and your family. You are missed.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Genius Fail
So, we've got a guy who is not paying his electric bill. It is months and about a grand behind. It finally comes to the point that we cut him off, and a serviceman goes and boots the meter, mission accomplished.
Not so fast.
Because of previous drama at this address, a meter tech went by there to check things out a few days later. Found the lock ring and boot on the ground, meter back in and spinning. This is called a "self-restore" and a "tamper", which is an automatic $400 fine. Plus, we cut you off "more permanently".
So the next day, one of our nicest and most laid back servicemen, Paul, arrives in Truck 575 to cut this guy off from the pole's service drop. No one is home, but he chats with an elderly neighbor lady who sees him and comes out to visit. We're the Good Guys, after all. Service dropped, he's done and on his way, mission accomplished.
Not so fast.
Our customer service department gets a call, the recording of which I have not yet had a chance to hear, but the notes tell the story. Apparently the homeowner called in and said he was out of town but had heard from his family that the power was cut. That is to say, 217 members of his family. Yes, that is the precise number of people he claimed were at his home during a family reunion gathering, which was ruined by the power being cut off.
Aside #1: I had about 40-50 people at my house for a Memorial Day gathering. I actually did try to count once but couldn't do it. And I was actually present. How he got 217 while not physically present is an amazing feat.
Aside #2: If this family reunion drew 217 people to his home, then why precisely was he himself as host out of town during such an important event?
Aside #3: His house is 1080 sq ft. If all 217 were inside, they each individually had about 5 sq ft of personal space and were very quiet while Paul was there.
Aside #4: And where did those 217 people park their cars, anyway?
But wait, it gets better.
Dirtbag went on to claim that his grandson had approached Paul to ask "what was going on" when Paul went off and "smacked him with a wrench". He says the grandson is in the hospital and will incur medical expenses, and that a police report has already been filed with "80 witnesses".
Oddly, the brothers in blue did not come to arrest Paul on an assault charge, or even try to interview him, or even call any of us at all for any reason. Curious.
The first Paul heard about it is when I asked him if he carried a wrench on his service truck. A little crescent wrench, he said, that rarely gets used, why? Oh the fun we had telling him all about his violent ways that he kept hidden from us. He must have been plenty mad at the dirtbag's family, because he has no memory of the event at all and obviously blocked everything out except the nice chat with a little old lady in front of a small empty house.
Um, dirtbag, we're the power company, not plumbers. Our one-man service crews don't carry weapons-grade wrenches.... anywhere. Now if you piss one of our guys off you might get brained with a hotstick or something.
A wrench? 217 family members? While you're not home? That all stayed hidden? 80 witnesses? And no arrests?
I've stopped laughing, because it is absurd to the point of tragic. Good luck dirtbag. We'll probably bill you for any legal expenses you incur on us, on top of the arrears and tamper fine. Genius, you FAIL.
Not so fast.
Because of previous drama at this address, a meter tech went by there to check things out a few days later. Found the lock ring and boot on the ground, meter back in and spinning. This is called a "self-restore" and a "tamper", which is an automatic $400 fine. Plus, we cut you off "more permanently".
So the next day, one of our nicest and most laid back servicemen, Paul, arrives in Truck 575 to cut this guy off from the pole's service drop. No one is home, but he chats with an elderly neighbor lady who sees him and comes out to visit. We're the Good Guys, after all. Service dropped, he's done and on his way, mission accomplished.
Not so fast.
Our customer service department gets a call, the recording of which I have not yet had a chance to hear, but the notes tell the story. Apparently the homeowner called in and said he was out of town but had heard from his family that the power was cut. That is to say, 217 members of his family. Yes, that is the precise number of people he claimed were at his home during a family reunion gathering, which was ruined by the power being cut off.
Aside #1: I had about 40-50 people at my house for a Memorial Day gathering. I actually did try to count once but couldn't do it. And I was actually present. How he got 217 while not physically present is an amazing feat.
Aside #2: If this family reunion drew 217 people to his home, then why precisely was he himself as host out of town during such an important event?
Aside #3: His house is 1080 sq ft. If all 217 were inside, they each individually had about 5 sq ft of personal space and were very quiet while Paul was there.
Aside #4: And where did those 217 people park their cars, anyway?
But wait, it gets better.
Dirtbag went on to claim that his grandson had approached Paul to ask "what was going on" when Paul went off and "smacked him with a wrench". He says the grandson is in the hospital and will incur medical expenses, and that a police report has already been filed with "80 witnesses".
Oddly, the brothers in blue did not come to arrest Paul on an assault charge, or even try to interview him, or even call any of us at all for any reason. Curious.
The first Paul heard about it is when I asked him if he carried a wrench on his service truck. A little crescent wrench, he said, that rarely gets used, why? Oh the fun we had telling him all about his violent ways that he kept hidden from us. He must have been plenty mad at the dirtbag's family, because he has no memory of the event at all and obviously blocked everything out except the nice chat with a little old lady in front of a small empty house.
Um, dirtbag, we're the power company, not plumbers. Our one-man service crews don't carry weapons-grade wrenches.... anywhere. Now if you piss one of our guys off you might get brained with a hotstick or something.
A wrench? 217 family members? While you're not home? That all stayed hidden? 80 witnesses? And no arrests?
I've stopped laughing, because it is absurd to the point of tragic. Good luck dirtbag. We'll probably bill you for any legal expenses you incur on us, on top of the arrears and tamper fine. Genius, you FAIL.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
When Did That Happen?
Engine 51, Engine 54, Medic 97, motor vehicle versus bicycle.....
The address is a fast road. This could be messy.
As I arrive in the engine, I see a pickup truck in the middle of the road and a small gaggle of bicyclists around one of their own who is sitting on the shoulder behind the guardrail. No blood smeared on the pavement. Whew.
He has no obvious visual injuries, but is clearly in some pain. Turns out he was not paying attention and rode at high speed downhill into a curve and the path of the truck. The truck screeched to a halt, and the rider decided that it would be better to sail over the guardrail rather than leave his bodily impression on the truck's grille.
He surfed the guardrail long enough to take a post top to the ribs. He's an slightly older guy, salt and pepper hair, in good shape, tells me he's a doctor. He seems to be an agreeable sort and I tell him that, like us firemen, docs and nurses are our best or worst patients. He laughs, winces, and says he'll go with whatever I want to do.
This is a no-brainer full c-spine job. Another friend tells me he's a doctor, too. Of what I never found out, but they were good guys. I asked the doc friend to take c-spine and went on with the full physical assessment without finding anything else of note. His helmet had a good scuff in it, though, another skull saved. E54 arrived and one of their guys wrote down all the info and we packaged him up without delay.
I wished him good luck as we loaded him into M97 and he thanked us for the help.
Other than the poor judgement on the downhill piloting of his bike, he is clearly taking care of himself and looks like he could keep up with most of the younger guys. The paperwork is mine and we all clear the scene.
Later...
Filling out the report that E54's backwards rider gave me, I see the DOB.
He was two years younger than me.
Damn. I'm getting kind of old. When did that happen??
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Hope to see you on Facebook.....
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Like
Or like not.
Either way, this blog has succumbed to the Facebook monster and has been assimilated.
https://www.facebook.com/ThreeMouseClicksFromDisaster
It isn't clear to me yet if this will be useful or not, but we'll see what happens.
Either way, this blog has succumbed to the Facebook monster and has been assimilated.
https://www.facebook.com/ThreeMouseClicksFromDisaster
It isn't clear to me yet if this will be useful or not, but we'll see what happens.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Keep Your Hat On
A little shout-out to those arriving from Radio Reference: The post you're looking for is from December 2009, and can be found here.
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I was out in my staff pickup doing some mundane power company errands when my FD was dispatched into the local small town to assist them with a reported traffic accident. It was fairly close by, but not in my fire jurisdiction, and I was not dressed for the part in any case.
I lug along the fire radio and power company radio in the car with me most places, as you never know what you're going to find or get asked to go do. Can't actually wear all that crap though. Gee whiz, if I tried to carry everything.... my Minitor, Mayberry's Minitor, my fire radio, my power company radio, my cell phone.... I'd walk in circles and develop a limp worthy of disability. But I digress.....
But, since I had the fire radio in the truck, I turned it on anyway just to be nosy. The small town FD arrived and was unable to locate. Boring. I turned the radio back off. Attention fully back on my power company business....
Several minutes ticked by.
"Dispatch to 570." That's Bruce.
Hmmmm, could it be? The Valley Road comes out into town and changes its street name, but some of the locals call it the Valley Road through town to the county line. The original traffic accident call I heard was on the town portion of the "Valley Road". I called my dispatcher on the phone.
Clicked together like new Lego blocks. I had turned off the fire radio a tad early. The original UTL had evolved into finding the correct location, in my "home" fire district..
Where's Bruce coming from? A long way off, as it turned out, perhaps 30 minutes.
I arrived to find a long backup of cars, some of them trying to turn around. Finally getting to the good part, there's our Engine 55 and the small town Engine. There's a couple of spans of wire on the ground, and a broken pole.
Keep your hat on.
It's so easy to stumble into trying to do both jobs, but that is just begging for confusion. The white staff hardhat came out, the turnouts stayed in the truck.
I found the IC, E55's captain. Sweet! he laughed, our dual subject matter expert!
He asked me if I'd carry the fire radio so he could reach me easier as we worked the scene, and I agreed to do it to keep track of their actions, but avoided actually talking on it. I nearly tripped up and used it a couple of times, but stayed clean.
This scenario happens once in a while, much more often since I got my new gig. It's old news for me, but this one seemed like a typical keep just one hat on kind of day, and it worked perfectly. I guess my message to you guys, if ever you find yourself in a place where you potentially have more than one role, is that things go so much better when you stick to one function and don't have two bosses with widely varied goals and needs. Nonetheless, it is always fun meeting my guys from one agency when working the other.
Stay safe out there.
---------------------
I was out in my staff pickup doing some mundane power company errands when my FD was dispatched into the local small town to assist them with a reported traffic accident. It was fairly close by, but not in my fire jurisdiction, and I was not dressed for the part in any case.
I lug along the fire radio and power company radio in the car with me most places, as you never know what you're going to find or get asked to go do. Can't actually wear all that crap though. Gee whiz, if I tried to carry everything.... my Minitor, Mayberry's Minitor, my fire radio, my power company radio, my cell phone.... I'd walk in circles and develop a limp worthy of disability. But I digress.....
But, since I had the fire radio in the truck, I turned it on anyway just to be nosy. The small town FD arrived and was unable to locate. Boring. I turned the radio back off. Attention fully back on my power company business....
Several minutes ticked by.
"Dispatch to 570." That's Bruce.
"570."
"Bruce, sent a call to your screen on the Valley Road, request from fire dispatch."
Hmmmm, could it be? The Valley Road comes out into town and changes its street name, but some of the locals call it the Valley Road through town to the county line. The original traffic accident call I heard was on the town portion of the "Valley Road". I called my dispatcher on the phone.
This is Grumpy, I'm near Valley. What's Bruce got?
Got a reported car versus pole at 4567 Valley Road.
Clicked together like new Lego blocks. I had turned off the fire radio a tad early. The original UTL had evolved into finding the correct location, in my "home" fire district..
Where's Bruce coming from? A long way off, as it turned out, perhaps 30 minutes.
I'm about two minutes away, I'll head over and see what we've got.
I arrived to find a long backup of cars, some of them trying to turn around. Finally getting to the good part, there's our Engine 55 and the small town Engine. There's a couple of spans of wire on the ground, and a broken pole.
Keep your hat on.
It's so easy to stumble into trying to do both jobs, but that is just begging for confusion. The white staff hardhat came out, the turnouts stayed in the truck.
I found the IC, E55's captain. Sweet! he laughed, our dual subject matter expert!
He asked me if I'd carry the fire radio so he could reach me easier as we worked the scene, and I agreed to do it to keep track of their actions, but avoided actually talking on it. I nearly tripped up and used it a couple of times, but stayed clean.
This scenario happens once in a while, much more often since I got my new gig. It's old news for me, but this one seemed like a typical keep just one hat on kind of day, and it worked perfectly. I guess my message to you guys, if ever you find yourself in a place where you potentially have more than one role, is that things go so much better when you stick to one function and don't have two bosses with widely varied goals and needs. Nonetheless, it is always fun meeting my guys from one agency when working the other.
Stay safe out there.
Tags
fire,
power company,
two-hatting
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