First Due: That Will Change

Give it a few years, that’ll change.” I have heard this statement and others like it too many times to count. It usually comes after I say how much I love my job, of being a part of my department, and how much the fire service is a part of my life. Here’s me, young, excited, eager, a sponge ready to soak up all that there is to know about one of the greatest jobs on Earth, and more often than not I’m met with a senior firefighter (or sometimes a young one) who has a terrible attitude toward the job.

The first time that something such as that was said to me, I was about a month into being a career firefighter. A member of another department came by my firehouse. He asked me, “So, how are you liking it?” Of course, I went down a five-minute rabbit hole of how much I love my job. I smiled as I spoke. My face was bright.

And then he said it: “That will change. In 10 years, you will hate it.”

Why is this the view that many senior firefighters present to eager rookies? Why spread this negativity? Is it almost unbelievable that there are firefighters who genuinely love what they do?

I much rather this person had said, “Hey, that’s great that you have a love for it. This is an amazing thing to be a part of, but that doesn’t mean it always will be easy. It will be taxing on you. Some days, you won’t be in the mood for it.” See? Much better.

The rare confirmation

Last year, when I was at a different department, during a staff meeting, my chief got really fired up for a few seconds in regard to poor attitudes and people speaking negatively of the job. He exclaimed, “If you don’t like it here, leave! If you don’t want to do this job, then go!” The room was silent.

Finally! Someone said it, someone who had 13 years on the job. Finally, I felt on common ground with someone else.

My dad was a firefighter from before I was born to my first year of high school. He was respected but goofy; he was smart, overly qualified, driven, but loved the life of a black helmet. I remember the mornings of my dad’s last few shifts on the job. He loved the job the day that he left as much as he did the day that he started.

Read that again: My dad, who saw terrible things on the fireground and at other incidents, who worked two jobs to provide for me, who was worn out, who was overexerted, still loved his job.

He told me repeatedly after I started my fire service career about the challenges, his achy knees, bad leadership and BS calls. He made sure that I knew that it wasn’t going to be sunshine, lollipops and rainbows always, but he also reminded me about how special it is to be among some of the bravest men and women in the world.

What’s the point?

So, why are there these people who utter those words: “That’ll change”? What is the point that these people try to make with this statement. Are these firefighters so stuck in their own mediocrity and complacency that they aren’t making this job the best that it can be for them? Are they so unhappy that they just can’t appreciate that they get to do a job that a lot of people would love to be able to do? Being a firefighter is a blessing and an honor, to come after those who came before us, who paved the way, who made the ultimate sacrifice.

Many times, young firefighters, myself included, who wanted to train, do a project for the firehouse, learn to be a better firefighter, have been met with smart aleck remarks and have been called a “brown noser.” Is that what the fire service culture has resorted to? Ostracizing and making fun of someone for just wanting to be better? For just wanting to improve the morale in their station?

As a civilian, I hope that the people who show up when I call 9-1-1 would use every opportunity to improve and genuinely love their job. Not armchair quarterbacks who just show up to collect a check. My previous chief and I talked about this, and he said, “Sometimes, people say those things because when that person is trying to be better or has an idea, the other person is mad that it wasn’t his or her idea. So, they shoot it down or belittle that person.”

I’m not a perfect firefighter. I have made mistakes. I have had days when I wasn’t on my A-game, but I love my job. Some people are just meant to be here. I refuse to be sucked into a place where complacency and mediocrity thrive.

Change the narrative. Don’t be that negative person, because for some of us, no, it won’t change.