Probie XI

“Can you crawl on your hands and knees?”   Fair question, from Fire Chief Cam Radewan, about this time last year.  Cam was at the Village Hall counter paying his taxes.  I knew the Fire Department was having the same recruiting challenges other departments face, so I asked Cam if he thought I could be a firefighter.  Told him my left foot had been exploded by the last car that failed in its attempt to kill me, but that didn’t stop me from climbing mountains, so I was in fairly good shape for all the birthdays in the rearview mirror. 

Can I crawl?   “Sure”, I responded, in the way I’ve responded to (thinking a bit here) every question of my capabilities ever asked.  Determined optimism is gonna be the death of me, someday.  Though, ya know, the five cars which have failed to kill me are a reasonable case study that mortality is not something I need to fret about.  So I don’t.  At least, not in the typical way.  Just play “Left of the Dial” at full volume at the close of the funeral, carve “Pining for the fjords” into the front of the tombstone in well-kerned Helvetica, and I’ll be good. 

That night last year, when no one was looking, I crawled around a bit.  As long as the left foot is in a boot, no problem.

There’s a Task Book probies need to complete before being released from probation.  It is an eighteen-page checklist with 166 separate items.  You need to complete and / or demonstrate your understanding and competency of every item, and have each one signed off on by an officer.  Imagine my dismay to find crawling on hands and knees is not one of the items.  Also, the 166 items are actually more like a thousand things you need to know and / or do.  Because there are many checklist items that require knowledge of dozens of other things to check off one single box. 

What compartment and drawer has the 5” Storz to 4” NST fitting on Engine 33?  What about Engine 31?  Take a twelve-week class and have that count as one thing.  Compare and contrast the Pike Pole and New York Hook.  Describe the limitations of your personal protective equipment in IDLH (Immediately Dangerous to Life and Health) environments and try not wet yourself while doing so.  Tie knots.  Force open doors.  When, why and how do you cut a hole in the roof?  Refill a fellow firefighter’s air-tank, without removing either of your gloves or facemask, in the dark.  What is the difference between a 1 ¾ inch hose and a 2 ½ inch hose and don’t you dare say ¾ of an inch.   What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow and is that greater than or equal to third gear on UTV 1? 

Or, something like that.  For a year. 

I viewed the Task Book as I did my first thesis.  With trepidation and disdain.  Here’s some life wisdom.  If you know someone who is working on their first thesis or dissertation, DO NOT ask them how it is going.  Because the first one is always a grueling exercise, haunted by self-doubt, unwieldly data and the black death souls of the margin police.  And thus the Task Book hung out on the top shelf of my locker, collecting dust and looming over my incompetence like an old man trying to send back soup at a deli.   

I had a plan, of sorts.  Go to every class and training session I could, pay attention to the smallest of details and meter out the dumb questions, so maybe they wouldn’t catch on to the deep reserves of dumbness.  Be childlike.  Children pick up language – especially a new language – through perseverance of silence as they mentally map the new language over the topography of words they already know.  Show up.  Shut up.  Be a sponge.  Worry about the Task Book - and speaking its new language - at the end, not all the way through.  

And so it went.  The Task Book looming over me on the top shelf of my locker.  Me ignoring it while immersing myself in the language and culture of the fire service and department. 

I am (somewhat) shocked to report … it worked.  The Task Book is complete and signed off on.  Thank you to Cpt. Lexin, especially, for help.  The only thing standing between me removing that dopey (though kinda cool in bearing some scars) yellow shield on the front of my helmet that screams PROBATIONARY is a small margin of time and a vote.

Neither of which I take for granted.