A Love Letter to that dispatch life.
“Here’s the thing. There are moments in your life that make you. That sets the course of who you’re going to be… It’s what you do afterward that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.”
— Whistler, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
This week on Poetry Thursday, I shared Mary Oliver’s The Journey, a poem that beautifully captures what it means to leave behind the noise of others and step toward the quiet truth of one’s own voice.
And while that poem speaks to where I’m headed, this post?
This one’s for where I’ve been.
It’s for the caffeine-fueled chaos, the console glow at 3 a.m., the muttered officer call signs, the mental Tetris of shift trades and overtime, and yes—the trauma-bonded crew who somehow put the “fun” in dysfunctional.
Late one night (of course), I wrote the following piece for our internal newsletter. It’s intended as an homage to “Seasons of Love” from the musical Rent, but even more so, it’s a nod to The Office episode where Michael leaves and the team sings a parody in his honor.
That bittersweet, chaotic, beautiful goodbye energy?
It’s baked into every line.
This isn’t polished poetry.
This is poetry that’s been lived in, experienced, and felt.
It’s punch-drunk, shift-weary, and proud.
🎤 Seasons of Dispatch
Set to the tune of “Seasons of Love” from Rent.
Props to The Office for inspiring this tone.
Two million, two hundred forty-six thousand, four hundred minutes.
It’s not really possible to do this math.
Two million, two hundred forty-six thousand, four hundred minutes.
That’s just an estimate of how long I’ve worked here.
In consoles,
In shift changes,
In overtime,
In so much caffeine,
In training, in friendships, in laughter, in stress.
In two million, two hundred forty-six thousand, four hundred minutes—
How do you measure a dispatcher’s day?
Running those names?
Closing the air?
Don’t make me answer calls!
Measure in swearing…
Seasons of dispatch…
Seasons of shhhhhh…
Two million, two hundred forty-six thousand, four hundred minutes.
I can’t help but wonder what the real number is!
Two million, two hundred forty-six thousand, four hundred minutes.
How do you measure a dispatcher’s day?
In trades that they’ve done.
Or salty officers.
Radio issues.
In seniority gained!
ACCESS down for maintenance,
Bing-bonging endlessly.
Let’s take the time to acknowledge what we all are:
First responders.
Remember the jokes…
(Like a monkey on a cupcake!)
Remember the food…
(Your Door Dasher is arriving now.)
Remember the love…
(Give grace, sleep more, thank a union rep!)
Dispatcher Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife.
Seasons of dispatch…
Seasons of 911…
The inspiration:
The Office Seasons of love:
Rent: Seasons of Love:
If you haven’t watched the episode yet, you can check it out here:
🎥 Watch Episode 2: “(Poetry Thursday)”
What’s Coming Next
Just like the channel, this blog will follow weekly themes:
- No Filter Friday: The dark side, the funny side, the real side—we have cookies
- Merry Moonday: Rituals, joy, and setting the tone for the week ahead
- Storytime Tuesday: Mental health, media, 911 stories.
Final Reflection
If The Journey is about choosing your next chapter, Seasons of Dispatch is about honoring the one you’ve been living—often on little sleep, lots of caffeine, and in environments that ask you to carry more than anyone should in silence. It’s about recognizing your challenges and the resilience you’ve shown in the face of adversity.
This isn’t a love letter to the system.
It’s a nod to the people who get it—the ones who made it bearable. The ones who laughed with you between calls, brought the snacks, and traded you out of bad shifts without making you beg. It’s the bond and camaraderie that make this journey worthwhile.
To those of you still in it: I see you.
To those of you who’ve left: I get it.
To those of us in-between: We’re figuring out what comes next.
Here’s to the journey.
And here’s to where we’ve been.
(Measure in connection. Always.)
💛
Lucinda
[Dispatch, Tea, and Therapy]