Status Updates From Tell Me Exactly What Happen...

“Uh … 322 to 300?”

“322, go ahead.”

“The north rig will be going en route shortly with mom to Regions.” .

“Copy …”

“And I’ll be out with five all under the age of seven. We’ll be … uh … playing with Barbies until Grandma gets on scene.”

“Copy. Barbies. Is the … scene secure?”

“Ah … affirm. For now.”

“10:52.”

“There’s no such thing as a routine traffic stop,” we hear a lot in this business. Unfortunately, that’s not exactly true. There are a lot of stops that look the same. They’re harmless, meaningless, and routine. And cops and dispatchers can get comfortable. And then somebody gets shot in the face.

Maybe that’s the kind of thing that makes humans into assholes. The fear. Or if not the fear, then the stress from stuffing the fear way down.

“911?”
“Yeah, I need you to send someone right now. My kid is out of control.”
“Is that him screaming in the background?”
“Yeah. I took his Xbox away, and I’m trying to get him to go to school. I need someone to come over here and make him go to school.”
“We can’t make him go to school either. Is he violent?”
(Cont in comments)

Colonies of humans will be living on Mars and cancer will have been cured long before any one person will ever draft a schedule that will make an entire staff of dispatchers happy.

"911?”
“Yes, the power is out in my neighborhood …”
“Yes, ma’am, we are getting a lot of calls …”
“Well, when is it going to be back on?”
“I don’t know, but I can give you the number for the power company.”
“Okay, but can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know just …”
“You don’t know?”
“Okay … it’s, uh, probably a busted flux capacitor.”
“Oh, that sounds serious. Well, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”

Hmmmmm kind of cop propaganda-y