The Difference

I might have been 6 years old when my dad let me tag along for a trip to town. I was the baby so I think I probably got that privilege more than my two siblings. Besides that, I was a daddy's boy. We made our way into Florence, AL. I have no idea for what only that I was excited pops had included me in the adventure. We took a side street and in front of Fire Station 1 were a few firemen watching another play with a radio controlled car. I went nuts! I begged dad to go back. What could be more exciting? Toys AND fire trucks in one stop? If you knew my dad you'd know how much of a long shot my request was. He didn't even balk though. He spun around and we wheeled onto the pad. The guys were giants in my mind. They expressed real interest in a chubby faced curly headed country kid. The firefighter with the toy took a knee, talked to me like I mattered, showed me the car and then the station. It was my earliest memory of a real fire truck. I have no idea who that guy was but I wish I could tell him how that day impacted me. I owe him more than I could ever repay but I'd like to start with a steak dinner. 

Let’s change gears. Your last shift approaches. 25+ years spending a full 1/3 of your life away from family and away from home. Soon you'll be home full time though (or more likely picking up another job to make ends meet). Let your mind see that day. You hang your bunker gear on the rack for the last time. The door closes behind you and things will never be the same. Drop by sometime after that and you'll be welcomed with a cup of coffee, laughs, and tales of old times. Walk back out that door and what will be said?

"I hated to see him retire" or "I hated him and couldn't wait for him to go."

"He was a hell of a firefighter" or "he can go to hell".

It's not about being liked but it is about making a difference. We don't work retail. A bad day at the office doesn't equate to an angry customer or a burnt waffle.  In our world not doing the job right today might mean someone isn't in this world tomorrow. Nothing is more infuriating and pathetic than someone who is just showing up. I don't care how much talent, ability, or even experience you have, if you aren't engaged and trying to deliver the best service possible, why are you here?

I already know this will ruffle feathers. Good. That means you are still capable of being convicted.

How can we settle for anything less than being the firefighter we would want coming for our family? I've often used this illustration when training. Fires in modern structures can double in size in as little as every 30 seconds. Let’s imagine that the call comes in just after shift change for a fire with confirmed entrapment. You are still in street clothes because that's just the culture at your firehouse. You run to grab a shirt, wasting a minute. The fire is spreading. You snatch your gear from the rack and get dressed. You haven't drilled PPE since recruit school so a 45 second task takes you 2 minutes. The smoke inside that structure is now pouring under the only door keeping the family alive. The street address really didn't ring a bell since territory study hasn't been a priority. Two wrong turns and two more wasted minutes later we are finally there. Conditions inside are now almost untenable. You dick around with retrieving a ladder as you see a civilian frantically waving from a smoke filled window. Clumsily you stumble through the yard looking like a first day recruit. Set the ladder, fumble with the halyard, finally ready. Mask up, climb up, forever too late.

Lay your head on the pillow after that and see how you rest. We can't make every rescue. We can't always be the hero. We will see unspeakable things in a career that makes peace impossible as it is. You will lose sleep. You will carry the weight of things you didn't create and couldn't solve. Add on top of that a career spent in incompetence and I don't know how anyone could handle it. We owe our citizens more. We owe them our best. Anything less is sickening and unacceptable. If you aren't willing to put in the work do something else. We will carry on without you just fine.

This isn't a side job. This isn't just a pension and benefits. You will be called upon during the worst imaginable times, face overwhelming odds, and suffer great loss. You will spend Christmas morning on an engine, a ladder, or a rescue while your family goes on without you. You will understand what 48 hours with barely a nap feels like. You will leave hot meals behind. You will suffer more than your share of bumps, bruises, and burns. Your spouse won't understand why you aren't yourself. Your civilian friends won't either. There will at least be one time during your career that you question if you made the right choice. However, if you prepare, if you train, if you seek wisdom from the senior man, opportunities will come that make it all worth it. Maybe a family will stop by with tear filled eyes to tell you how grateful they are to have another year with their loved one. Perhaps you'll see a baby brought into the world under less than ideal circumstances. CPR will finally work. It might be as simple as a child who decides to follow your footsteps because of a small act of kindness.

Do your job. Do it right. Never settle. Never surrender. Be relentless. Go out on your terms. It's not too late. You never need to ask permission to do the right thing.