911 work takes a special breed

PROVO — For 10 hours a day, four days a week, Sally Carlson sits in front of five computer screens, typing on three keyboards and managing four different computer controls.

As if that isn't enough, she's talking to more than a dozen officers via a police radio while catching pieces of the the frantic conversation between her co-workers who are dispatching fire trucks to a vehicle engulfed in flames.

Carlson hears an address and without waiting for an official 911 report relays it via radio to an officer who, within minutes, is "10-17," which in police code means the police officer is headed that way.

As a Provo city emergency-services dispatcher, Carlson's days are spent multitasking — the only way she could keep up with the stream of stressful situations.

"Not everybody can do this job," Carlson said. "You have to be able to listen to everything that's going on in the room."

Conversations between workers in the dispatch center are constantly interrupted by a normal phone tone indicating a non-emergency police call.

But everyone's pace quickens when it's a multitone warble, signaling a 911 call.

On this day, the warbling continues as five callers report the fire on a vehicle in a turn lane at East Bay and University Avenue, near the Provo Towne Centre.

One of the dispatchers takes 911 calls while her colleague alerts the appropriate fire stations. Carlson handles the radio, sending out police officers to each scene.

"The most important thing is officer safety when you sit in this position," said Carlson, who is also a shift supervisor. "You want to make sure you know where they are."

Her screen shows which officers are assigned to various incidents. One officer might be responding to a traffic violation while another one is "10-17" to a family fight.

Dispatchers use the "10-code" language, although they've been given the OK by Provo police officials to use more "free speech" over the radio, Carlson said.

Still, it helps to know what an officer means when he says he wants a "10-21" so he can get a "10-29" on a "10-59." Translation: the officer requests a phone call with information about possible warrants for a reckless driver.

"Of course you can memorize codes," she said. "But when you start using it, it actually means something."

All of the 25 dispatchers and four part-timers are cross-trained for each specific role in the center.

They all took an online POST (Peace Officer Standards and Training) test, attended an EMD (Emergency Medical Dispatch) and CPR class and were trained in-house on BCI (the computer system workers use).

The alphabet soup means Carlson and her co-workers in the second largest dispatch center in Utah County (second only to the county's) can walk someone through childbirth, the Heimlich or CPR on the phone, use a series of computer programs and pull up drivers' licenses and other personal information.

Learning the lingo, using the equipment and adjusting to the stress takes the full six months of training. After that, dispatch supervisors can tell if someone is cut out for the job.

"A lot of people that apply don't know what it entails," Carlson said. "When someone (calls and says), 'My wife's dead,' that first call leaves you saying, 'Can I do this job?"'

And not everyone can, which is why Provo City honored the dispatchers from April 8 through today in connection with the National Public Safety Telecommunications Week.