Pissin' Off State Troopers Is What Sassy Dispatchers Do Best

Typing this entry alternating my free hand between a beer and a bowl of coffee ice cream, so, that should tell how my night was-- let's dive right in.

0600 hours:  after a standardly busy but not unordinary Friday night and one of our boros has a home invasion involving a gun. I'm not working the district handling the incident, I'm working the backup position-- arranging regional response (including the state police) and making sure the correct information goes out over all the districts. The closest state police barracks is made aware of the incident and the very nice dispatcher on the phone tells me she's sending a car.

A few minutes later the state police hotline rings and I pick it up:

SP: Hello Willowdale Barracks [chipper, as per my 0600 manifesto]

A Trooper, who I'm going to call Not The Dispatcher on account of his piss poor attitude starts in on me:

NTD: I need the phone number for the boro Sgt. 

SP: He's in the middle of a robbery, what do you need?

NTD: [annoyed] Yeah. I know. I have, like, five cars going. 

SP: Okay, what do you need? 


NTD: I need to know where he wants us to respond to. 


SP: Stand by, I'll have his dispatcher ask.

NTD: [muted on his end, but not quite enough he unleashes a string of expletives describing my work ethic, and possibly something about my mother.]

*unreadable radio transmission from the OIC*

SP: Hang on, we didn't hear that. 

NTD: [now making NO effort to cover the receiver on his end he starts to question my dispatch skills. This is war.]

SP: Yeah. I can still hear you. 


NTD:  Yeah and  I'm waiting! 

SP: [gleefully]  The OIC is advising he has enough cars already - but if you'd like to respond to the general area, that's fine. *click*

A couple notes here. Under no circumstances do I, or anyone else in my comm center give out officer cellphone numbers. We don't care if it's God calling, it's not done.  Even if we did, I am not giving out an officer's personal number so you can call him in the middle of a hot call to ask where he wants your cars. That's what the dispatcher is for. Having the dispatcher coordinate it also ensures that most of the other units in the area hear where your cars are responding to, so we can avoid, what is called in the most technical of terms: a cluster fuck.  I'd also like to think he'd like the cellphone hand free for his gun, but that's just me.

Trooper Not The Dispatcher calls back a short time later and my partner picks up the phone. He wants my name. Names, in addition to personal phone numbers, are something we don't give out. She gives him my badge number and boy is he pissed. Hotline rings again 30 seconds later and I pick up, now he wants my supervisor. Instead of just being sort of smug that I stuck it to an asshole trooper, I'm doing my Christmas Morning Dance in anticipation of my supervisor having my back, so I practically sing for him to pick up the Willowdale hotline.

In the end, my supervisor nicely and calmly told NTD to go pound sand. Your intrepid blogger finishes her beer and ice cream, reflects upon how nice it is to have a supervisor that stands up for you, and wonders if troopers are (mostly) universally assholes because they wear the hat too tight.