A Sneak Peak Into The Life

The life of a public safety worker is a highly unique experience. Regardless of station or rank, each and every individual dedicated to this line of work will find themselves overworked, underpaid, and unappreciated. Public safety workers face long, tiring hours and high stress levels. Additionally, they face broken-hearted children who don't understand why their loved ones didn't make their little league game or dance recital. They face spouses who can't comprehend why they answer the phone every time duty calls, instead of saying 'not today' and letting someone else respond to the scene. Public safety workers experience heartbreak daily - at work and on the home front. They hold lifeless children, who had no defense against the flames that engulfed them. They look into the eyes of criminals daily. They face constant attack and criticism from outsiders who don't understand their jobs. And at the end of their shifts, they return home, filled with guilt for not responding fast enough, constantly wondering if a life would have been saved had they been able to shave seconds off their response time. Their jobs are unpredictable, nerve-wracking, shocking, and gut-wrenching.

Why would anybody choose this kind of life?
Why would anyone choose such a horrible job?
Why would anyone decide to live in constant emotional turmoil, always on stand-by, always aware of their surroundings?
What on earth could possibly make such a life bearable, much less worthwhile?

When I first became a 911 dispatcher, it was nothing more than a job to me - a paycheck. I only came to work for the money, which wasn't much, but to a nineteen-year-old living at home with her parents, it didn't take much to get by. I spent my days staring at the clock, dreaming about the days off to come. I lucked out in the schedule I was given. I worked 12-hour shifts for the first three or four days of the week and spent the rest of the week off - the perfect schedule for a young adult in her social prime. Looking back, I probably never would have accepted the job offer to begin with had it not been for my mother, who insisted it'd be fun - the experience of a lifetime. Most likely, her enthusiasm was masking her desperation to get me out of the house, but regardless, I found myself lost in the midst of the heart of public safety - dispatching.

As time went by, I decided that this job may suffice until I could figure out what I wanted to do in life. I changed departments a few times, mainly for the raises that are more graciously awarded in bigger departments, but still ended up finding myself drawn to the family-like atmosphere that smaller departments offered. As more time passed, I developed what could have been a novel's worth of stories to tell - from calls I'd personally taken, calls my colleagues had received, calls my coworkers had responded to, and stories from the countless faceless people I'd build relationships with over the phone and radio working for other agencies. Some of these stories were heartbreaking, others were heroic. Some would have me in tears, while others would put a smile on my face for days. Some were funny, and others made my heart stop.

After a few years the job my mother had originally talked me into taking became a career. Somewhere in between the laughter and tears the job had provided me over the years, I realized that I'd never really want to leave this field. Despite the horrible hours and stressful moments, I'd come to love it all. I looked forward to coming to work. I loved my colleagues and I looked forward to the adrenaline rush the atmosphere provided. I wanted to advance, looking for every opportunity to make myself shine, so when promotions arose, my name might be mentioned. I was ambitious and eager, feeding off the ambitions and excitement of others. And yet, more time passed and my 'career' in public safety became more of a calling. It was fulfilling. It wasn't about making myself better than someone else, or finding ways to advance within the department. It was a passion. I was making a difference - if only a small one - in the world. I rarely left work on time, but stayed after sometimes for hours at a time because I didn't want to miss out on an exciting call. I started worrying about my colleagues when I wasn't there, questioning their safety without me there to back them up.

So, back to my original questions.
Why would anybody choose this kind of life?
Why would anyone choose such a horrible job?
Why would anyone decide to live in constant emotional turmoil, always on stand-by, always aware of their surroundings? What on earth could possibly make such a life bearable, much less worthwhile?

People don't choose this kind of life. This kind of life chooses them. Though it may seem horrible at times, the connections and support you receive from your colleagues are beyond words. The constant emotional turmoil and awareness are counteracted by the peace and security we find in a job well done.
And what would make this life worthwhile?
Knowing that, at the end of the day, you helped improve the world in a small way - whether it was talking a suicidal person from the ledge, putting a criminal behind bars, rescuing an infant from a flaming vehicle, or simply talking to a lonely elderly woman, who just needed to hear a kind voice on the other end of the line.

I could not imagine a job in any other field. I could not imagine living any other kind of life.