TRANSPARENT SERVICE
BY CARL F. WELSER
The word “transparent” is a good way of describing some important features of the private little world each of us lives in. Transparent means you`re not aware of something until you run smack into it. Or, more exactly, until you run into a NEED for whatever is transparent in your life. Then what was transparent becomes obvious.
I`m indebted to Ronny Coleman, fire marshal for the State of California, for his insights on the transparency of the fire service. His comments are as valid today as when he made them in 1995.
Houses are obvious objects. They are usually large structures, prominently stationed along roads and streets. Houses have some transparent parts called windows built into them. The transparent parts of houses are generally equipped with shades to block out light and lock in privacy.
Unlike houses, homes tend to be completely transparent. A home is built by the people who live inside the house. When something happens to the house–storm, fire, flood, whatever–the home inside the house either becomes very visible or it doesn`t. Then you discover whether you actually had a home or only a house.
Many people–especially younger people–consider their families transparent, like windows. They prefer to look through their families toward things that seem more significant at the moment, until they really need a family. Then what was once transparent becomes more visible.
By all accounts, your local fire department may be one of those transparencies that people daily move through and move past without really taking notice. In fact, most folks prefer it that way. Who in their right mind wants to run into the local fire department for any reason other than a parade?
Kurt Vonnegut, a famous author (Slaughterhouse Five), reportedly said, “I can think of no greater symbol of man`s humanity to man than a fire truck.” That says something really important about how society works. But don`t count on people in your community feeling that cozy about your fire department until they really need a visit from a fire truck.
Most areas in the country enjoy some method of signaling for help when help is needed. 911 Dispatch is a good example. For most people, 911 is a transparent service. Lucky people don`t take daily notice of 911 because they don`t need it on a daily basis. It exists for moments of crisis, but 911 is only the beginning of the end of a crisis. No one would feel helped if a 911 operator would say, “Thanks for calling. We`ll file your complaint in triplicate. And we hope you have an opportunity to call 911 again soon. Good day.” Running a successful 911 Dispatch means being able to assure callers that someone stands ready to do something about every 911 phone call–and do it quickly! Something must back that assurance up.
Having a local fire department is like having an assurance policy. An assurance policy is similar to but different from an insurance policy. For the lucky majority, an insurance policy fades into transparency. You pay a few hundred bucks for an insurance policy on your house and hope you won`t need to talk to your insurance agent again until the premium becomes due next year.
People might think of the local fire department as their local assurance company. Since early American history, it has made sense for the people of towns and townships to band together to support a local crisis assurance company. Neighbors working in groups can help each other in ways individuals can`t. Having a local fire department provides citizens assurance that someone will come quickly when they tell the 911 dispatcher about a crisis in their lives.
Community expectations have changed dramatically in the past generation. And that`s not all. Time was when you could join a local fire department by signing your name on an index card and then just show up the next time the siren sounded. If you showed up warm, awake, and walking, you`d likely end up helping to fight a fire. Most of what firefighters learned, they learned on the job.
Things have grown more complicated. Most of the assurance work done by fire departments relates to sudden illnesses or accidents in the community. And the weight of the laws, rules, regulations, and standards governing this assurance work has cast enormous new burdens on fire departments, especially volunteer departments. For that reason alone, the department deserves greater visibility in the eyes of people who are otherwise content to let the fire department remain transparent.
The need for a few special people to provide the backing for your crisis assurance policy is greater than ever. Not everyone wants the job. Fewer still can qualify. But if your department is anything like ours, then you probably need anywhere from five to 10 new recruits every year to account for both attrition and growth.
Steve is one of the special ones. Steve is in the process of volunteering for service with our department. Steve is a black belt in karate. In real life, he runs a karate barn where people do the kicking now instead of cows. He has chosen the volunteer fire service as his avocation. Steve just wrapped up a 300-hour emergency medical technician course. In September, he enrolled in a 240-hour firefighter class. His department pays for the training, but all those hours are Steve`s free and willing gift to his community. Five-hundred-plus hours amount to a lot of volunteering. But he`s only just begun. And he`ll need every bit of learning to serve his community as a member of the local crisis assurance company. What does the community know–or care at the moment–about that level of service? They all struggle with their own busy lives. They are quite happy if their community assurance company remains completely transparent until the very moment they need it.
Last week, Steve was quoted in the local newspaper, saying, “I volunteer because this is my town. I want my neighbors to know that when they make that call, they know who`s coming.”
Wow! Sometimes you read something so powerful you wish you`d said it yourself. Steve packed a lot of punch into those two sentences. There`s hardly a more sparkling way to distill the spirit of the local volunteer fire department. And it all remains transparent until someone has the need for it.
Or maybe not. The Pew Charitable Trust funded a study a couple of years ago to determine where people in trouble would turn for help. The answers, in descending order, were family members, fellow church members, and the local fire department.
Hey! A pat on the back beats a stick in the eye any time, neither of which is transparent.
We campaigned recently for a 10-year township millage proposal dedicated to the support of our fire department. This millage would generate considerably more funding over the next 10 years than the department has seen in its entire 52-year history. But we also recognize the hazards of our transparency. In any given year, we have direct contact with less than 10 percent of our citizens. We make them happy, but the rest are content to see right through us. We needed something to paint us visible to more people.
In addition to the usual welter of campaign signs and newspaper ads, we landed on a simple but effective presentation for groups in the community. We took a copy of one page of our desk log for a week in July. Line by line, the log sheet lists the 20 scene calls we ran that week. We blotted out the addresses and any other identifying data that might lead to a breach of confidence and made enough copies to hand out at presentations.
As it turned out, there was nothing remotely resembling a structure fire during that entire week–just the usual crazy-quilt pattern of car accidents, heart attacks, difficulty breathing, wires down, and the like. Participants were absolutely astounded. They are all good citizens. None of them intends to have a fire at his own house. With that thought in mind, they all felt safe in coloring the fire department completely transparent.
Then they learned about a half-dozen other 911 events to which any one of them might be prone today or tomorrow. The participants gained a new appreciation for the formerly transparent but now suddenly visible fire department. Folks around town were still talking about the presentation a month later.
And the millage proposal passed by a 2-1 majority.
CARL F. WELSER is a 30-year veteran and training officer with the Hamburg (MI) Fire Department, Inc. He is a member of the Fire Engineering editorial advisory board.
