Vehicle Burglary

Vehicle burglaries are unfortunately a frequent complaint in the 9-1-1 center. I worked in the era of CDs. The things cost about $20 a piece, and if you had a Case Logic book with 50-100 of those things in there, the loss added right up. Couple that with the frustration of losing a car stereo, having your car window smashed, and a big muddy boot print on your driver seat, and callers are often pretty hot when we pick up the phone. In fact one of the deciding factors in buying our van was that I couldn’t remember a single time I’d taken a report about a van being broken into.

“My car has been broken into again, and this is the third time this week!” yelled a young man. “The cops haven’t done anything, and now all my CDs are gone!”

I find the best way to diffuse a hostile caller is to jump right into the nuts and bolts of the call – it’s called “gap theory” according to the National Academy of Emergency Dispatch. I got his address, phone number, location of the vehicle, and his best guess of what time the burglary would have occurred.

“What type of vehicle is it?” I asked.

“A Suzuki Samurai,” he disdainfully answered.

“A soft top?” I asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah.” There was now a sheepish edge to his voice.

“So your vehicle has been broken into two times already, but you left your CD case in a vehicle that can be accessed simply by cutting the canvas.” I confirmed.

“Yeah,” he replied. His indignation was pretty much all the way deflated by now.

“I’ll send them right over.”

Dispatch Memories

As excited as I am about the new job (and I am awfully excited) one could accurately say that I have been deeply saddened by ending my career as a dispatcher. My phone doesn't ring at night anymore; I don't get calls on the weekend; no one ever asks my opinion about anything that could cause lives to hang in the balance.

Mary suggested that as a salve for my soul I should probably take time to write some of them down. That seemed like one of those great ideas that I'd just never get around to. I've spent some time recollecting about some memories, and I've typed out twenty-seven pages so far. As these stories are not meant for sharing, I've not been careful about maintaining anonymity. As I've recorded them though, I've found that maybe I'd like to post one or two up here. (Or three or four).

I want to say up front that many times answering 9-1-1 lines puts you in touch with folks at moments when they aren't necessarily at their best. People aren't that dumb; people aren't that mean; people aren't that clueless -- we all get a moment or two in life that we'd like to have a do-over. That includes the caller, my peers, and especially myself. I won't share anything here that could cause someone (even someone I don't know) any angst. I also will remove enough detail that identities will remain safely shrouded in secrecy (except for maybe a coworker or two as a partcipant in the story.)


Let's start with my first night as a dispatcher. (Any naughty words are direct quotes and I use them only if necessary to clarify the situation - there won't be any really naughty words. Just a little bit naughty.)

That Vacuum Really Sucks

My first trainer was C.A.. The first night on graveyard I can remember her telling me that we had some custodial duties to accomplish. After the terrifying experience of trying to talk on the radio and the frustration of trying to figure out the CIS CAD system, custodial duties were something I quickly jumped all over. The center had a central vacuum system which meant that rather than moving a little vacuum and dragging a cord, we had a 20-foot hose that we had to drag out of a closet.

“That vacuum really sucks,” C said to me as I laid the hose across the floor.

“Okay, thanks,” I said. I fully expected the vacuum to start pulling the carpet right off the floor. That warning must mean I should keep my hands and feet away from the nozzle at all times lest I lose a digit.

I plugged one end of the hose into the wall socket right after I made sure that the business end wasn’t in position to destroy furniture or kill small children. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that by saying that vacuum really sucks, she meant that it really doesn’t suck.

New Job

So, I figure having been in a new job for nearly two months, it’s probably time to make some type of semi-formal announcement. (The formal announcement will occur later when everyone dresses in evening gowns and tuxedos.) For most of you in the various spheres of my life, you probably won’t notice much difference. For some of you, like my wife and children, things have changed quite a bit.

I am the new Statewide Interoperability Coordinator (or SWIC) for the State of Utah. “Sounds fancy” you say? One of the big reasons that I have dragged my feet reporting the promotion is that I haven’t yet figured out how to explain what I do before even the most robust attention spans wane.

I can say that my new office is in the State Office Building (affectionately referred to as the SOB) which is on the north end of the State Capitol Complex. I am in the basement in a room called the Emergency Communications Center. I work in the room alone, so if you get an email from me saying, “acka;as;askdfuids . . .” you should probably call me an ambulance.

I have struggled to find an appropriate telephone salutation. “State Interoperability – this is Scott” has been my mainstay so far, but most days it seems like it would be easier to say “The sixth sick sheikh's sixth sheep's sick – this is Scott.”

I guess it also bears mention that I work for the Division of Enterprise Technology. I haven’t yet seen the transporters or the phasers, but I have high hopes.

It was a hard decision to leave the associations in dispatch behind. Spending thirteen years in a profession makes it feel more like an identity than a job, and leaving feels like I’m losing part of my soul. I wish all the best to those noble dispatchers I’ve had the privilege of working with. We who sleep at night owe them a debt we can never repay.

While I was saddened by my decision to leave the 9-1-1 Center, it does make me very happy to be working close to my friends from the Governor’s Office.

Here goes an attempt to explain what I do.

The radios used by police officers, firefighters, and EMTs have lots of options. They go from very simple (and somewhat inexpensive) to very complex (and very expensive.) As each police department, fire department, or ambulance department is essentially on its own to purchase and maintain its own system, frequently these systems don’t communicate with each other. For day-to-day things, this doesn’t matter a whole bunch. Occasionally (and more frequently than we would like) something bad happens where communities need to pool resources to handle it. It’s my job to help communities coordinate their radio (and soon data) systems to work together or be “interoperable.”

How many words into that paragraph did you read before you lost interest? See the problem?

That was my best try, and the shortest I’ve been able to make it thus far. If I keep failing at this, I’m just going to start telling people that I’m in the Ninja Assassination Prevention Agency – or the N.A.P.A.

“NAPA – this is  . . . WATCH OUT FOR THAT SHURIKEN!!!!”

Sheep Round Up

I inadvertently bamboozled Mary by putting the camera on manual focus to try to do some star photography (need more practice)

So when the came down our street, she struggled a bit. I still think she ended up with some neat pictures though. Good job Mary!

 

Pumpkins

Throwing Socks into the Ceiling Fan

12th Ward Chili Cookoff

So this year our ward activities committee decided it would be fun to have a chili cookoff. We went up to the Brigham City Stake Girls Camp (just outside of Mantua) and enjoyed a smörgåsbord of fantastic chilies.

The judging was intense. I'm not saying that Brother Kohler's wife had a pony in the race, but . . . 

Becca and Ellie were extremely hopeful mom would win.

The judges settled on a winner

And awarded the Golden Spoon to Sister Burt

They awarded Mary "The Hottest" . . .

. . . and they liked her chili too. 

White Chicken Chili

1 lb boneless skinless chicken breast, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

1 medium onion

1 1/2 teaspoons garlic powder

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

2 (15 1/2 ounce) cans great dry northern white beans, rinsed and drained

1 (14 1/2 ounce) can chicken broth

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon oregano

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon cumin

1 cup sour cream

1/2 cup whipping cream

2 (4 ounce) cans diced green chilies

Directions

• In large saucepan, sauté chicken, onion and garlic powder in oil until chicken is no longer pink. 
• Add beans, chilies and seasonings and chicken broth.
• Bring to a boil.
• Reduce heat and simmer (uncovered) for 30 minutes.
• Remove from heat, stir in sour cream and whipping cream.
• Serve immediately.

 

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