911 Communications Center

[ERT-RPG 2]

Station Floor for dispatchers, communications personnel and bull-pen to the offices for the Communications Division. 

Off the main bull-pen for communications officers is the office of the director of communications, the shift supervisor's workstation, a small EOC, as well as washroom facilities and a break room. 

 

[C. Aylward]

*Looking out over the bullpen I see the 911 lines are buzzing. After checking the timers and status of the lines I see its been a considerable amount of time sine Jim's phone was answered. I walk over and see the very large man holding a small sauce cup from the Wendy's presumably from down the street. I see there a few empty packets on the desk. Before he notices me I see him rip open the top of the cup and pour the contents in his mouth, I am disgusted...*

 

'Whats going on? The phones are off the hook and your sitting here.'

 

Big Jim: 'I'm finishing my lunch, You know the union says I have to take a break every 90 minutes.'

 

'The rules say you can not that you have to.'

 

*Big Jim takes a big wheezy breath*

 

Big Jim: 'Its all about how you interpret the rules. I'll get back to work in 3 minutes'

 

*Jim says after checking his watch.*

 

'What are you eating?'

 

*Jim starts tounging his sauce up to get every last drop*

 

Jim: 'Ranch. I would offer you some but this is my last one'

 

*I groan in disgust *

 

'I'm good, Just get back to work.'

 

*I walk back to my desk as I sit down I take a small notepad and put a new tally mark next to the word "Ranch"*

[M. Price]

*Listening to the exchange between Big James and Charles I sit around at my station taking calls and waiting for Big Jim to get back to work so I can take a break.  It wouldn't be so bad but my station is next to Jim and every so often the food he brings to eat topples into my area.  Things like wrappers from Wendy's, onion rings, crumbs from potato chips, pepperoni slices, and various bits of meat that he forgot to finish eating because he started eating something else.   He's not always careful when opening the condiment packets either as I recall one time he was trying to open a package of mayonnaise and it squirted on my face.  Listening to my colleagues talk I take another call*

'911, where's your emergency?' .... Ma'am, your son wearing your clothes is not an emergency....  No, I do not think he is possessed by the devil...'

*She hangs up and I sigh*

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

Finishing my "lunch", I crumble up the open wrappers and put my containers. A giant wad of trash now in my hand I look around for a trash can. I see one across the room. The distance seems like a mile.

Screw it. I'll clean this up later. I think to myself as pile the wad of trash artfully on the corner of my desk where all my 'clean it up laters' are starting to accumulate.

*I let out a loud cough, followed by a thunderous barrage of throat clearings.*

I take a drink from my jumbo sized styrofoam fast food cup filled with diet soda.

*The clock overhead strikes the exact 30 minute mark from when I registered my break.*

'Hey Morgan sweetie, you got any calls holding for me? Just send them over.' I ask her in a slightly raspy voice.

I clear my throat once again as I log back into the CAD using my grease coasted keyboard.

I log into the CAD and start listening to radio traffic.

*Clears throat*

'Uh...medic 14...copy'  *heavy breath over the air*

I squint to read the computer screen. My double chin turns into a quadruple as I then look down at the keyboard.

'uh....I got you transporting to Arcadia community'.

*heavy breathing continues as I close my mic*

*clears throat as I answer a call*

'911, what's your emergency?' *heavy breath*

[M. Price]

'Yeah, sure, I'll send some calls over to you'

*Finally he's getting to work I think to myself as a half eaten pickle flops out of a bacon cheeseburger and lands onto my desk.   Ignoring that I send him over what calls I have before getting up to go on break myself.  Been looking forward to the Chicken Ceasar Salad I have in the fridge all day.*

[H. Goodricht]

'Alright guys, I think I'm clear on this call. I'm gonna sign off to get those reports done. Call out if you need extra hands.'

*I turn off my tower light and put my head down to start typing to my report*

[H. Goodricht]

*I look up from my notes and see a blip on my email. Call action report for a structure fire in Kimberly.*

Call notes:

alarm for shed fire unanswered by kvfr after 5 minutes. Alarm reissued to scfd STN 3. Unit reported response 4 minutes later, full response answered by scfd. Following arrival of scfd, IC reports kvfr chief and engine report to scene, looking to confirm if units were dispatched.

*Well isn't that nice, I think to myself, no response to dispatch, no announcement of response, they just show up. Pretty good.

I click forward and type in the email for the commissioner, ccing the fire liaison.*

Good afternoon,

Please see attached call action notes from kvfr. Units did not answer initial dispatch within 5 minutes, call notes indicate scfd was dispatched and arrived, and approximately 5 minutes later, kvfr was reported as being on scene. No radio contact was made. 

Can you folks look into this? It's hard to run a dispatch when we don't know where one of our stations is operating. They are back on county dispatch, right?

 

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

*It's almost lunch time, I count down the seconds.*

'Medic 12 copy. *heavy breath* I...uh...got nothing holding for you. You're clear.' I say over the radio as I update unit status on the computer.

I continue to breathe heavily as I always do, completely oblivious. Each breathe in is a rumble, each breath out is another rumble. My neck and chin form a gelatenous blob-like mass as I look down at the keyboard and computer screen. Things are pretty quiet on my front....now just time to wait for lunch. With the radio temporarily silent, I sit back fully in my large comfy computer chair. Tilting my head back. I close my eyes for a second.

I'm hungry. I can feel my sugar getting low.

I feel my phone buzz on the desk. I open my eyes and lean forward to look at the screen. A notification from UberEats informs me that my lunch is here.

I lean back in my chair and look over at Price.

'I'm taking my lunch now, sweetheart.' I say to her. 'All's quiet on the east side.'

I sit back up and push my chair well away from the desk. With a large continuous grunt I struggle to get out of my chair. I use my arms to help lift my massive frame out of my chair.

I manage to get up, leaving a large divot in my chair which is perfectly formed to my large frame. I'm a little out of breath from standing up but damn am I hungry.

*I take one step. Then a second...then a third...and pick up speed*

I waddle out of the room and slowly waddle my way to the lobby of the building, huffing and puffing the entire way.

After what seems like forever, I make it to the lobby where I meet the UberEats driver with my meal. He pulls out two grease covered bags from his insulated bag, thanks me and walks out.

I waddle my way back to the dispatch room.

*Huff. Puff. Huff. Puff*

I barely make it back to my chair. I put the two greasy bags down on the desk and get my chair into position. I back myself in line with the chair and plop down with a giant thud into the chair.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Mannnnn. I wish we were closer to the lobby." I let out with a giant sigh of relief.

I pull myself back in front on the desk and start clearing it. Once cleared, I grab the bags and start pulling out the contents: 2  large, grease soaked fried fish sandwiches, and a big 8oz styrofoam cup of tartar sauce. Opening the other bag, I see it's full of french fries. I open up the first fish sandwich, laying out the wrapper flat on the desk. I pour out a mountain of fries and open the tartar sauce. The stench of cheap, greasy fish starts to fill the room. I open the sandwich up and start to pour in a giant glob of tartar sauce. 

*I take a giant bite of the sandwich. Tartar sauce and grease drip down my unshaven chin.*

"mmmmm. I love these things." I say softly, oblivious that everyone in the room can now smell my greasy meal. 

*I put the sandwich down and push away from the desk. I struggle to bend over to reach under the desk. My massive belly makes it hard to reach the roll of paper towels I have sitting on the floor under my desk.*

I manage to grab it and pull off a wad of paper towels to clean myself with.

I place the roll on the desk and reach over for my 100oz jug filled with diet soda. I take a drink, letting out a satisfied "Ahhh" as I swallow.

I return to the sandwich and proceed to take another giant double bite.

Edited February 19, 2020 by Chris07

[M. Price]

*Just finishing up a call when I see Big Jim return from getting his lunch.  It's not that far from here to the parking lot and he comes back out of breathe.  It's only a 100 foot walk.  Wait, is he, is he sweating?  Just how out of shape is the guy.  As he unloads his meal on to his desk, it really just adds to a pile of other food that he has there, he unwraps a fish sandwich and takes a huge bite.  The sight of tartar sauce oozing out from underneath the bread and onto his beard is enough to almost make me gag.  So I'm thankful that a call comes in to distract me from witnessing my colleague devour fried seafood between bread like a black hole.*

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

*I swallow my last bite of the second fish sandwich.*
 

Damn. Fries are gone.

 

*I use my finger and tongue to lick the tartar sauce container clean*
 

Everything is spotless. Aside from the grease stains, one could reuse these wrappers and containers. I crumble up the wrapper and throw everything into the grease covered delivery bag, which I soon after crumple up too. 
 

*I look at my small desk trash can*

It’s overflowing. I look up for the nearest trash can in the room. It’s large, and can easily accommodate both what I have now and what I have accumulated in my overflowing trash can. Problem is, it’s 15 feet away.
 

No. Forget that. It’s too far.

*I add the crumpled bag to an ever-growing pile of crap on the corner of my desk.*

A couple crumpled wrappers on the corner of my desk from my breakfast and mid-morning snack  three days ago fall off the pile on the desk and onto the floor.

I’ll clean it up later.

I look at the clock. I still have 9 minutes of my lunch break left.

*I lean back in my chair and look over to Morgan. The chair squeeks loudly as it tilts backwards under such tremendous weight.*
 

”My breaks almost over. I’ll cover you in a few minutes. Okay sweetheart?” I say to her.

”I’m....*heavy breathe*...I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute first...“ *heavy breathe*
 

*I tilt my head back and rest it on the head of the chair. My eyes are closed.*
 

“...just for a minute” I say softly to myself.

within about 45 seconds the snoring begins.

A heavy, yet somewhat soft snore fills the surrounding areas.

 

 

 

 

[H. Goodricht]

*Jesus christ, is that. Snoring?! Fucking Big Jim. I'm here doing his job so he can sleep? Not likely.

*I walk away from my dispatch station, over the Jim's, where he's essentially shaking everything around him with his snoring.*

'For fuck sake's Jim. You've got a call. It's yours now, so help me god.' I say, smacking his chair. 'Next time, I'm pouring a pot of coffee over you.'

[M. Price]

*Looking at the time it's now my turn for a break.  Big Jim is snoring so I look to one of the other dispatchers to take my call as I get up from my seat.*

'Won't be long, I'm just going to go for a run around the building.'

*If I am thankful to Big Jim for anything it's that looking at him motivates me to run ever since I stopped doing track and field.  After heading out the door I do some quick stretches and get running.  Slow pace at first until I hit my stride and then I go into a full burst.*

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

*I startle awake as Goodricht hits the back of my chair*

'Uhhh..I....uhhhh...errrmmm.....'

*I start to choke and cough for a few seconds*

*Clears throat*

'I wasn't sleeping. I've got a couple minutes left on my break. I was just....closing my eyes.' I say.

AS Goodricht leaves I mumble to myself.

'What's his problem? He and Charles always have their panties in a bunch.' I mutter to myself as I lean back in my chair.

*I lean my head back and close my eyes again.*

'I have 3 minutes left...' I say softly as I begin to rest my eyes.

[H. Goodricht]

*The phone rings and I see a hand go up. One of the dispatchers calls me over, and I hurry. It's either really big, or it's Kimberley. God help us if it's both.*

'Sir, we've got a possible structure fire in Kimberley, AFA, should I upgrade anyways?'

'Where?'

'The mill.'

'Just the one call?' A nod. 'Alright, send Kimberley and give them four minutes, if we don't have a confirmation from someone, cancel them and send Clinton. It's probably nothing, but keep me posted.'

*I return to my office and watch patiently. I bring up the call and see that pagers were activated and KVFR already has their star responding. Chief Matthews. I'll be sure to keep aware of the notes.*

[H. Goodricht]

*Walking around the dispatch center, I stop by a few desks. First an update on the Kimberley fire. Apparently it's of a minor nature and the KVFR chief says to stand down any other responding units, they can handle this. Oh boy. Let's hope they'r eright.

*As I approach Big Jim's desk, I'm reminded of our wing date. Oh god.*

'Hi Big Jim, how's it going here on your end? Any calls?'

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

*I sit there licking my fingers, a giant gooey cinnamon roll on my desk with a giant bite taken out of it. The melted frosting oozes all over the giant container it is being held in*

'Oh hey there Henry.' I say while chewing.

'Nope, nothing yet. Must be a slow morning.' I say.

'Hey. I just wanted to say....uh....thanks for staying and chatting with me the other night. It's was quite the time.' I say sincerely.

Not many people I work with seem to hang out with me outside of work, so it was something truly special.

*My station light up*

'Ooops. Well speak of the devil...I got one. Excuse me, Henry.' I say as I answer the phone.

'911, what's your emergency?'

*I take a bite of cinnamon roll*

[C. Aylward]

*As Henry walks to the supervisors desk.*

'Maybe KVFR got the point and got there shit together. Traffic sounds good even though the king of the vollies is' screaming at his guys like that crazy motorcycle guy in Florida.

*I say as I'm listening to traffic from the fire.*

'Who knows, We may even start treating them like people again.'

*I say with a chuckle.*

'So I see you made a friend with Big Jim over there.'

[H. Goodricht]

21 hours ago, J. "Big Jim" Kowalski said:

'Hey. I just wanted to say....uh....thanks for staying and chatting with me the other night. It's was quite the time.'

*Hearing Jim's comment, I think, as big a lard as this guy is, maybe he's a nice fella after all, and we're all just shit to him for no reason. Fuck it, I'll throw him a bone next time. Before I have a chance to response he stops to take a call.*

'Who knows, We may even start treating them like people again.'

'I'll believe it when I see it. Remember, for every transmission we hear on our band, there's probably a hundred on the tight working band that we can't pick up. I wouldn't be surprised if it's a pressure issue and they end up totalling a truck after it. Even if they don't fuck their stuff to hell, there's a good chance they'll never get treated like people.'

*Pausing for a second to hear Chief Mathers yelling at one of his men, and then dropping an F bomb, I look back to Charles.*

'See, that's what I mean. Might wanna start on the FCC paperwork now. Our chances, they'll be listening to that one transmission and unless we've got a dead firefighter, we'll have a helluva time explaining that one'

[C. Aylward]

'This guys such a dick. Every time they get a job I have to do one of these inquirys.'

*I pull the form up on the computer and fire it off to him and CC Burke and Goodricht.*

'I think his excuse last time was he got too caught up in the moment and forgot he was using a radio.'

*Shaking my head.*

'This guy can't be for real...'

[H. Goodricht]

'I say that literally every time I see him. Honestly, I don't think Burke makes enough putting up with him. Tool doesn't begin to describe it. Think he's bad on the radio? Put him in a room, and watch. I've heard he's even worse to work with in the field.'

*I roll my eyes and check my phone as I see the forwarded message from Charles. Pretty bad it's just an autofil of date and time and then the curse word(s) used now. Every single time.*

[C. Aylward]

*Looking around, I see we're all pretty much sitting around, waiting for a call to come through. Quietly I call over to Price.*

'Price, What's the over under on Kimberley's fire today?' 

 

[H. Goodricht]

*A slow morning turned into a busy afternoon. It's barely noon and we're already running hot. SWAT is on a call, we've had a big drug bust, and hospital ERs are filling up pretty quick. We've got only a handful of ambulances not currently assigned in the county. We might have to flex some units out of their homes and send them across the county. 

*Looking at the Fire Station lists, SCFD has a pretty full lineup right now too, which is strange, even for them. Engine 13, Squad 2 are out at a MVC on the I-848. From the looks of it, they took their chief too. Arcadia just cleared a call and Oxnard just reported a false alarm, freeing them and Essex up. I should head over to the comms center again, just to check up on the guys I think.

*Walking down the hall, I take the long route, past the Commissioner's office and notice he's not in yet, but figure it won't be long until we see him here, given the call I just had. Entering into the bullpen, the first and only one to really look up to me is Big Jim. I decide to make a stop there along the way, doing my tour to Charles, see how Kimberley is doing.*

'Hey Big Jim. How's it going?'

[H. Goodricht]

*After one terrible shift, I figure this is a crew that deserves a break. I buzz back into the comms centre, looking at maybe fifteen minutes from the end of their shift, mine too.*

'Hey everyone, there's this bar out in Kimberley, kind of far, I know, but trust me, the wings are worth it. I'm heading over there after shift, and I'm buying a round if you want to come join me. You all worked amazing today'

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

I waddle into the dispatch center over towards my desk, huffing and puffing as usual. My ass is killing me from my fall yesterday. Lucky for me I got to go home for the rest of the day. Now I'm back, bruised, but ready to serve.

The journey to my desk is met with disappointment. There's my workstation, just as a left it, however, there's no chair present to replace my broken one.

'Uhhh, what the crap? Why hasn't anyone replaced my chair yet?' I say out loud.

'Oh, here. Sorry.' A maintenance worker says as he brings over a cheap plastic dining chair from the lounge. He places it at my desk.

'What the hell is this?' I ask disgusted at the thought of wedging my delicate derrière onto this cheap hunk of metal and plastic. 

'Oh, your chair was a custom order, and it'll take 2 weeks to get a new one in. Unfortunately, the regular chairs are also on backorder for at least another week. I was told to give you this in the meantime.' he explains.

'How the hell can anyone expect me to sit on this all shift long? This little thing can't support a man like me!' I say outraged.

'Easy, Jim. I'm just doing what I was told. We literally have nothing else right now.' he explains trying to calm me down.

'Like hell we don't, come with me....and bring that...thing...with you' I say pointing to the cheap dining chair.  I waddle towards the lounge, the maintenance worker close in tail.

We spend about 5 minutes in the lounge arguing before the maintenance worker finally gives into my demands. He grabs a co-worker and starts to carry out my request.

The two maintenance workers carry out a large brown recliner from the lounge and drop it in front of my desk.

'Thank you, guys. See...now everyone's happy. We got one recliner still in the lounge, and this one can tide me over until my new chair comes in.' I say satisfied. 

*I waddle into position and plop down onto the recliner with a THUD.*

It's not the most ergonomic option, but it will do nicely.

*I pull the keyboard and mouse off of the desk and relocate them to my lap and armrest. I start to take calls while leaning back in the large soft recliner chair*

Edited March 17, 2020 by Chris07

[H. Goodricht]

*Coming into the dispatch centre to check on my people, I see a recliner with Jim's fat ass planted in it. There's a keyboard in his lap and the mouse on the arm. What the fuck is this?*

'Aylward, your office please.' I say to him, trying to take him away from the floor before I try to figure out what the fuck this is*