In my shoes

There has been a lot of media attention surrounding the public safety fields in the past few months. Excessive force, officer involved shootings, rude 911 calltakers, the list goes on and on. Somehow I manage to keep my personal opinion off Facebook, but it's driving me crazy.

Have you ever heard the saying "you can't judge a man till you walk a mile in his shoes"? This is the best way to describe my opinion on these topics. I will be the first to say that yes, there are bad cops and bad dispatchers. There are people in this line of work who are racist like there are employees at Microsoft, Target, Starbucks, and the DMV who are racist. I don't condone racism or straight up pointless rudeness. So if we can set aside those incidents (which are far fewer than the media would like you to think) we have the rest of the incidents.

The most recent trend is that any time a white cop shoots a black kid, the media goes ballistic. Has anyone besides me seen the officer's side of this most recent one? How the kid charged the officer multiple times? So I'm an officer sitting in my patrol car, roll up on guys who match suspect descriptions from a robbery, try to contact them and they start fighting me. Call me crazy, but I'm going home to my family at the end of the shift. The officer sustained multiple injuries consistent with someone defending himself, and eyewitness reports collaborate that version of the story. Why is it that the officer who was protecting himself is the bad guy? Cause the guy he shot was black? Answer me this: if the suspect was white would everyone be complaining? How about if the officer was a black female? The double standard is ridiculous.

As a dispatcher, I work with police officers 5 days a week, 8-12 hours per day. I'd count some of my officers as friends. Some of them have added me on Facebook. Some of them I've ridden in the patrol car with. I have first hand knowledge about what police officers are like. I can't stand a few of them, but most of them are good men and women. I salute them for the job they do. For the drunk/clinically insane people they contact every. freaking. day. and DON'T beat up. For the endless string of absolutely ridiculous requests that they field and deal with, for the most part politely. For working up to 20 hours at a time, fully expecting at any second they could be fighting for their lives. For the ability to not only manage the citizens, but also deal with us on the radio. Let me tell you how many domestic violence victims have seen their abusers go to jail because of the police. How about we put the burglary where a K9 track and good police work ended up in an arrest on the news and talk about it for more than 5 seconds?

Ok, now on to something I really care about. The 911 calls. I don't care how much you hate your job, unless you work in emergency services of some kind you have ZERO right to judge a calltaker's work. 

Picture this: you wake up in the morning, make waffles, get your kids dressed, take them for a walk with the dog (who still wants to chase all the birds..grrr), your daughter complains because she wants a popsicle and you won't let her till after lunch. After packing lunches you load the kids into the car and take them to daycare. You get to work, clock in, say hi to the co-worker you haven't seen because they were on vacation, put your headset on, ask your neighbor about how the recipe they posted on Facebook turned out, your phone rings and all you hear is screaming. It's a cell phone (of course) so the only location you have is within 500 meters of where the call is at, so you repeatedly tell the caller "I need the address" which is always followed by "well, I don't know the address, damnit! Can't you just ping my phone?!?" Since you're working on a recorded line you politely explain that you don't have the ability to do that and try your best to get some kind of info so that you can get this person the help they need. You get as much info as you can and hang up. Your phone rings again and you speak with a woman whose cat is stuck in the tree. While you feel terrible for the lady because you love animals, you have to advise her that in your jurisdiction, the fire department doesn't respond for that--she needs to call a tree topping service. "Are you f$56*¡ telling me they won't come out?" Unfortunately yes. They hang up on you. You get a few minutes to finish your conversion about that recipe and the phone rings. A lady had her car broken into. The call is short, sweet, to the point and you thank her for calling as you disconnect. Now you are getting a call about a fight in progress. "The suspect is a white male. Actually a Hispanic male, but I have no idea what he's wearing." Officers happen to be nearby and get there in great time. It's not really a fight, just a group of teens horseplaying. As soon as you hang up, the phone starts ringing again, this time with a report of a "suspicious male who doesn't belong"....because he doesn't look "right".  You have 2 minutes to run to the bathroom because you drank too much coffee and sit back down to a report of the rape of a 4 year old. Then a prank call from 2 kids who just laugh and hang up. And you're only an hour into your 8 hour shift.

Put that on repeat for 40 hours a week. You're dealing with the highest stress moments off people's lives. You get cussed out in a day more than the average person will in a month. And out of the thousands upon thousands of calls you take in a year, maybe 5 will ever give you credit for gathering the info/keeping them calm/sending the appropriate response (which is usually not what the caller thinks it should be.) The amount of ridiculous and bogus calls you take far outweighs the number of legit calls....we're talking 50:1. 

The only people who understand what it's like is the other people you work with. If you don't have the luxury of working days (only 1/3 of our center staff does) you are constantly telling people "sorry, I'd love to come over....or to your kid's birthday party....or to the football game...or to the club meeting but I have to work nights.and weekends.and holidays." You don't want to burden your friends and family with the weight that rests on your shoulders, because you want to keep them clear of the world you see every day.

I remember the outrage over the calltaker who didn't seem overly concerned when the missing girl called 911 and said she'd been missing and gave her location. Did you know I've talked to Jesus on the phone? And people who kindly explained to me how Yoplait is chocolate with a man and a woman. We say "ok", enter the call, and let the police take it from there. It's not my job to counsel you, make you feel good about yourself, or always say "yes" to every demand. My job is to gather the pertinent info in the quickest manner and give it accurately to my units.

Wow that was a lot. It just drives me bonkers. Work my job for even a DAY and your opinions of the garbage the media shows will change drastically. The End.

Rebel Status

I am a rebel. I got a tattoo.

When you grow up in a very conservative home like mine, you learn very early on that tattoos are the devil's ink. There's no good reason to mark up your body. The Bible says no alterations. What if the man you want to marry doesn't approve of them. It might seem like a good idea at the time, but you'd regret it. It's impulsive  and people get it to show gang affiliation.

So when I was in high school, I used sharpie to write things to remember from youth group lessons on my wrist/arm. Usually one-word things like "idols" or "joyful". I can't tell you when, but at some point I started writing the word "love" in script on my ankle. When I began my Police Explorer career, I had to be careful about where I wrote things because any ink had to be covered by my uniform. I wanted to go into law enforcement and the same rule applies to most law enforcement agencies. So I kept writing that word "love" on my ankle. For 5 years.

All through college I was poor and wasn't 100% sure that I wanted it tattooed. But I wrote it by hand every time I came out of the shower. As I started working a real job I kept writing it and began thinking of a tattoo, but I wanted to wait till I had the last piece of the puzzle--a man. Until one of my co-workers said that is a terrible idea. Don't get a tattoo for a person. Get it because you want it. I decided I was tired of it coming off in the shower, and the next day got it done. 

It comes straight from 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient, kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not rude, is not self seeking, it keeps no record if wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth.

It is for my friends who have walked with me, and at times carried me, through my life.

It is for my family who is always there.

It is for my guide dog family--the people AND the puppies who I've poured my heart into. 

It's for my future man who I might not yet know, but who I pray for and know that God has all picked out for me.

It's a symbol that I'm a grown up now. I'm not my parents' robot. I can think, decide, and act for myself. That I can make a choice based on what I want and don't have to live by their rules.

It's a reminder every minute of every day how much God loves me and how He wants me to love people.

And it's a great conversation starter.

So yes, mom and dad, I have a tattoo. And I still love Jesus. And I'm thrilled that I finally have it done.

Those days when you just want to scream

Some days, man..... 

I'm at work and I have at very least one person angry with me because I'm working the radio they were promised to work. It's ridiculous. I definitely have my favorite radios, too. And I understand how it would be frustrating to have your expectations squashed. But in the end, it's JUST a radio. It's 8 hours that you're getting paid to work. You'll go home at the end of your shift and play with your kids or sleep or drink a beer. Get over yourself. 

On the other hand, I have been listening to myself lately and I'm realizing not only how petty other people are, but I can be too. And the petty frustration leads to gossip. Which just causes problems. And I'm discovering more and more that I'm bad about gossip here at work. Where's the balance between frustration and gossip? How do you get out the pent up "THIS PERSON CAN'T DO THEIR JOB" frustration without talking to others and without imploding? I want to do the right thing and not make enemies but that's not always possible I suppose. 

Life is so complicated. Blah. 

In other news...... What a gorgeous boy.

When words aren't enough

"Notify the M.E........" The worst words to hear on your radio. 

I'm not going to get into a long winded post about the meaning of life and how precious it is. Let me just say that natural disasters suck. Sitting here and listening to it unfold and not being able to do anything about it sucks even more. I'm spending my afternoon dispatching people's petty issues. Really? Get your head out of your butt for 4 1/2 minutes. I would say "life goes on" but obviously that's not true for the bodies they're still uncovering. 

I can dispatch a stabbing, home invasion, or suicide attempt. This is the first time I've teared up at work (well other than I frustration during training). 

Lessons in singleness

It hit me the other day that as a single girl I'm all messed up. It really hit me when I saw flowers at the grocery store and was sad because no one brings me flowers. Then I realized, why do I need to wait for someone to bring me flowers? I've spent so long waiting for later that I haven't been noticing what I'm learning NOW. 

With that said, I have a wonderful best friend who I've gone through a lot with. She has taught me 4 things that are priceless:

1. I'm not always right. I'm not the type of person who just says stuff, usually it's based on fact or experience. But as much as it shocks me, I'm not always right. And let me tell you it's the hardest thing in the world to admit that. My best friend has been gracious and loving and sometimes stubborn and I'm learning that it's ok to be wrong. No one is perfect. 

2. When to just say "ok". Along with that last one, when I know I'm correct I don't like to let it go. Deep down it's a pride issue. I know I'm right and you're wrong, and I'm going to make you see that. Even if it makes you upset or hurt, I have a need to justify myself and always prove that you're wrong. After a few arguments that hurt a lot (and I'm sure hurt her, too), I've found that I care about her so much that I don't want her to be sad over a ridiculous issue. It really doesn't matter if she thinks that we didn't talk about our weekend plans...instead, just move on and discuss it again. What good does it really do to correct every little thing? Sure sometimes I need to adamantly defend a position, but most of the time, it's ok to just let stuff go.

3. How to be KNOWN. I struggle with being vulnerable. I'm really good at pretending to be. I've gone through some crappy stuff but I don't mind talking about it and sharing my story with people. It makes it seem like "oh wow she really opened up to me", but I really haven't. When I hang out with people or start new relationships I like to ask questions. I'm a communication major so that's naturally what I like to do--communicate. People love to talk about themselves, and I love to listen, so that's usually my "job" with my friends. There are very very very few people who actually know me. Who I feel like I can express the full extent of my emotions or experiences to. It's scary because once you share that with someone, they hold a piece of you that they can either choose to protect or share with other people. I told her something the other day that I hadn't shared with anyone, and it was terrifying. But it's safe with her.

4. How to accept gifts/compliments. So we've already established that I have issues. One of them is that I don't believe people are being genuine when they give gifts or compliments. In my head, saying someone looks good or does their job well is kind of expected. Same with giving gifts...people do it either to get on someone's good side or because they feel obligated. Part of being loved by someone is to learn to take things graciously and to believe in their sincerity. I'm still cynical enough that I don't think the majority of people are genuine, but the ones who truly care are just trying to express how they feel. 

So the way I'm trying to look at things is instead of wasting these years of singleness, it's a perfect time to just grow and learn things that God has for me. I'm sure my future man will appreciate it :)

Shifts

It occurred to me that not everyone understands work schedules that aren't the normal 9am-5pm so let me enlighten you. 

I work swing shift. It means that I don't start work until well into the afternoon. (I'm not posting my exact schedule online, sorry). So for "normal" people, if you wake up at, say, 6am you need to go to bed around 10pm to get your 8 hours of sleep. Now, if you work till,say, midnight (because you're on swing shift), I can guarantee that you're not going to be able to fall asleep immediately after work. At least not if you're in a field like mine where lives depend on the fact that you are alert and thinking until the very end of your shift. So my guess is the average person would be asleep by 3am. 8 hours of sleep takes you to 11am. And that is IF you're not working overtime or delayed by something. 

So, my dear friends, getting up in the middle of the afternoon might not be your "normal", but it doesn't mean I'm being lazy or sleeping in every day. Don't tell me I'm lucky....I'm just getting my 8 hours like everyone else. Probably less actually. So when people act like I should just be able to get up at 8am to meet them somewhere, it makes me frustrated. I'm not being difficult--just imagine being told you needed to wake up at 2 or 3am on a work day....

Ok ok rant over.

All the single ladies....

Pastor Mark made a super interesting comment the other day. Instead of just making a list of things you want in a spouse, make a list of things you want to be for your future spouse.

A best friend. I want to be the first person he thinks of texting when he hears a funny story or wants to complain about the overtime at work. Who he pictures going with him to the Seahawks game. 

An encourager. I want to help him pursue his dreams. On those days that just suck, I want to speak words of life to him. To find ways to let him know I care and am behind him 100%. 

A helper. And it kills me because every feministic bone in my body is screaming at me for typing that. But it's true. I want to make a beautiful and relaxing home. I want to make breakfast for 2 in the morning, and spaghetti for dayssss. I want to help him fix the car and mow the lawn. I want to work hard in my career field to help make money not so much of an issue.

A mom. I want to have a big family with so much love and patience and jokes and silliness and loud laughter. I want to teach my kids what the difference is between chloroform and chlorophyll. I want to let them watch "Up" while we're all snuggled up on the couch. I want them to "read" their Bible with me before bed, and to get to tell them the Jesus stories over and over. I want to have foster kids who rebel and make us want to cry.

A sister in Christ. I want to go to church together. To sing about Jesus together. To pray together every day. To ask him tough questions and discuss our thoughts. To hold him accountable in the areas he's struggling with. To lead a community group with him.

That's just the beginning. I want to be someone he's proud of. When I walk in the bar while he's talking with his friends, I want him to be so excited to tell his friends "that's my wife!!"