No one calls 9-1-1 on a good day

I supervise at a 9-1-1 call center. I recently had a co-worker who began yelling at someone while he was fielding their call.

I walked over towards him and could hear the person screaming at him. It seemed— from what I overheard— that he didn’t start the shouting.

A few minutes after he completed the call, I told him, “We can’t match their emotional level.” Then— “When people dial 9-1-1, they’re doing so at a critical time. They’re usually at a high point of need— maybe even anxious and desperate. That’s why we’re here…”

He explained that they cussed at him a few times— “not just cussed on the phone… I’m OK with that… but they cussed ME down, acting like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“I get it,” I told him. “But you have to compartmentalize…”

I told him I imagine myself putting on a coat each day when I walk into the office. Something for my emotions and all the stuff we hear.

“I take it off— invisibly— when I walk out the door. Before I get into my car. I hang it on the light pole outside and pick it back up the time time I return to work.

That day when I got into my car, though, I realized that I was— for the most part— kidding myself about taking the emotional burdens of the day off and leaving them in front of the office. It was the middle of the summer, and I felt like I was wearing an oversized down jacket.

It’s hard to separate that stuff. The toll of it really adds up.