By Walter Lewis
In the 25 years that I have been in the fire service, I have had my share of good and bad days, more than some and fewer than others in our business. But each of the days, and certainly the “big events,” have taught me some considerable lessons. I’ve been to fires where people were saved and quick stops were made, and I’ve been at fires where civilians and even firefighters have perished. Our craft is complex, and, perhaps because of those bad days, I take my job seriously.
I also expect that same devotion from my coworkers, but, to my dismay, some fail to see the need to obtain an in-depth in knowledge of firefighting. Some seem unfazed by the fact that there are numerous tidbits of information on tactics, tools, situations, and contingencies that cause us to require minimum and continual training. There seem to be three major culprits when it comes to where our fire service is off the mark: lack of focus, delicate egos, and pride.
LACK OF FOCUS
Lack of focus refers not to the skill level but the drive level. Ask one of the “regular” firefighters you work with who their favorite sports team or player is, then ask what they know about them. They can usually rattle off various statistics, including what high school or college they attended. Then ask them three questions: What do you do when you are at the nozzle and water reduces down to a trickle but the hoseline is still stiff? What do you do if you’re wearing your air pack and, for a few seconds, your low air alarm goes off, then your mask sucks to your face because no more air is flowing? What do you do if you drop the hose bundle accidentally and it’s now a pile of spaghetti? I’m pretty sure they won’t give good answers. If they do, awesome, but likely they won’t. When I ask firefighters those or other questions, I’m happy to share what I can. I’m saddened when they don’t know and aren’t interested in knowing. This is the “lack of focus” showing through.
EGO
Now that I’ve gained some rank, I make a point to share information, welcomed or not. Years ago when I first began roving as an officer and posed questions like those, I felt if they didn’t care to know, then I didn’t care to share. After all, they weren’t “my guys, “ but after some time and a few calls that didn’t go as efficiently as they should have, I changed my stance. If they didn’t know, they were going to be taught it. That doesn’t mean I spent all day training and forcing personnel to learn, but I’d at least take a few minutes or an hour to do so. If they couldn’t remember it, then it was on them (until I rotated back to working with them again).
A few fellow officers took exception to this. I wasn’t trying to change how their crew operated when they all worked together, but I was setting expectations and instilling job knowledge for when I was there. Still, they were offended. I didn’t (and still don’t) care. Why not? Because I was responsible for those people, on those days, and for what actions they took. And some of those actions might lead to suffering for the citizens, the firefighters themselves, or me. That’s not acceptable, especially the “me” part.
So why is it that we take offense on occasions when an “outsider” offers some of their information? Be honest, it has happened. Are we offended when we may be challenged, or do we take it as an opportunity to learn something new or reinforce what we know? Is it a moment when someone’s lack of knowledge may be discovered? Is it our “delicate egos” that bruise so easily? Be open enough to realize that this event will be a good thing–either a learning event, a reinforcing event, or a chance to debate the concept being brought forth. Don’t shut down and deprive the recipients from expanding their knowledge.
PRIDE
Pride can be a good thing but it can also be a firefighter killer. Pride in your company, firehouse, or department is great, so long as it doesn’t inhibit your willingness to listen. Be proud, absolutely! You work with the best company, firehouse, and department going. Why? Because it’s yours.
But pride can also make folks stop striving to be good. It can cause complacency. It can make a humble firefighter arrogant. It can get you killed. Certainly you can be proud of being the busiest company, having the most sought-after unit in the department, or being the best paid. But that can change with a transfer or a change in political winds. Sometimes that cherished position is being in the right place at the right time, and a better qualified individual who wasn’t at that spot doesn’t get discovered. Sometimes, it is well deserved–and if so, keep it that way. Keep working hard. Keep learning, taking care of the tools, mentoring the new firefighters, and being prepared for your “moment.” For those are things to have pride in.
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This misguided pride was another speed bump to befall in my quest to enrich other firefighters’ knowledge base (while improving my chance of survival). Some would “already know that” or feel I was wasting their time. So, each time I had this presented, I would enlist them to help or have them present the info. Sometimes they knew what was up, but once they were engaged, they usually dropped their attitude and got into the drill, sometimes going beyond the intended lesson. Sometimes they realized they knew it, but not all of it. Again, the attitude dropped and buy-in was gained. And sometimes, to my enjoyment, they had depth of subject knowledge and I learned something.
Most of the things I do–take a class, teach, train, share information, what have you–are all done for the selfish reason of wanting to go back home to my family the same way I left them. That includes not having a shift in which another citizen, fellow firefighter, or I suffered from a speed bump, namely my own complacency, delicate ego, or pride. All these objects of resistance are speed bumps. Because I might slow down, but I’m not stopping. Not until the end of the road.
WALTER LEWIS is a district chief in the Orlando (FL) Fire Department, where he has been a member since 1996. He has been involved with the fire service since 1990. Previously, he volunteered for two years for a small department and worked for a suburban department for four years. He served a tour at the Training Division. He is an instructor for the Central Florida Fire Academy and a USAR teaching group. He is a member of FL-TF4 and served on the state committee to create the 40-hour live fire training course required by Florida law for instructors of live burns. He has taught across the United States and in Canada.
