I knew that being a 911 Dispatcher would come with it’s unique set of challenges, but come on…this was small-town America. What could really happen to make it that busy? I showed up to work in my cutest (still professional) outfit. I wanted to make a good impression…plus, there may have been some single deputies! Don’t judge! I was 20 years old and living with Mom and Dad. I needed to have hope that I would someday have a social life again!
Where was I? Oh, yes…my cute outfit. I sat down across from the Sheriff as he chain smoked (it was the mid-90s) and cleaned his ear with his car key (you can’t make this stuff up). He explained that I would be responsible for dispatching deputies for the city and county, highway patrol in our area, fire, and EMS. I would be taking calls from citizens. I would be responsible for reading a map of the whole county (For all of you younger people, this was when maps were on paper and not a phone screen.). It would be important to know landmarks. Ok, I can handle that…go north on Hwy 92 for 3 miles, and then turn left at Mr. Smith’s four black and white cows. Got it!
He kept talking about taking calls….Wait! Go back! What did he just say? Did he say I have to take the EMT course? I asked the Sheriff if he said EMD (Emergency Medical Dispatch). Yep. He did say EMD. Whew…AFTER I take the EMT (Emergency Medical Technician). The room began to get warm, and I was sweating. Visions of bodily functions and fluids danced in my head. I am a sympathy puker! I see it; hear it; smell it; I’m done. I can’t take that class! I was a Prom Queen!
