One part of my job duties is to issue daily burning permits for my Fire Department. It’s a Monday, and the same number keeps calling and hanging up. Finally, they come through.

Me: “Fire Department, how can I help you?”

Caller: “I need a burning permit.”

Me: “Sure, let me get some information from you.”

Caller: “You issued me one last Friday.”

Me: “Okay, I can transfer the information to the new permit.”

Caller: “Sorry for calling so much. My friend thought you sounded cute and said I should ask you out. But I still need that burning permit.”

Me: “I’m flattered by the compliment, but I am already married.”

Caller: “Do you think you’d divorce him for me?”

Me: “Your burning permit is on its way to your email. Have a great day!”

I did not answer the phone for the rest of the day. My husband got a kick out of it, though!

I am tasked with investigating why a fire was allowed to do so much damage to the basement level of a building when it could have been mitigated. The site had four security guards onsite at the time that the fire broke out, but according to the accounts of people in the building at the time, they didn’t exactly do anything.

The fire was in an electrical room in the basement garage of the structure, which was covered by two cameras. The fire could have been extinguished by our security staff when it was still small instead of being allowed to run rampant.

The building manager and I go to the security control room and start looking at the cameras.

Within seconds of breaking out, the fire is visible and obvious on one of the two cameras, but the camera viewing the security control room itself shows no reaction from the guards onsite.

Time passes and the fire gets bigger, smoke starts to filter into the building from stairwells, and one camera has turned into a bright orange rectangle on the monitors.

There’s still no reaction from the guards on duty, but people within the building are starting to take notice now, and panic is setting in. It isn’t until someone hammers on the window of the control center that the guards react. They are informed of the fire by a tenant of the building just as the strobes start to flash. We watch, in utter disbelief, as the guards start walking casually to the basement. To make matters worse, they don’t take the fastest route; they end up going a longer way so they can take the elevator instead of using the stairs.

Now the sprinkler system has gone off, flooding the basement.

I turn the cameras off. What could have been a minor event turned into thousands of dollars worth of damage because the on-duty officers were not paying attention and seemingly did not care about what was happening. They didn’t even call for a building evacuation. People could have been hurt or killed. 

All four guards are terminated on the spot. The owner of the building makes the call to terminate the supervisor, as well, because he doesn’t trust him anymore after seeing how well his people were trained. 

We all believe that the fire alarms and strobes should have triggered faster, and that is being fixed; however, we have physical security on the site for a reason, and the failure of building safety systems is one of those reasons. When automation fails, you are always supposed to be able to depend on those who are on-site with their boots on the ground. 

Not this time.

When I am in college, I eventually move from the dorms to my own apartment. About six months into the year, the fire alarm over the wall AC unit starts chirping. (I have two fire alarms: one in the kitchen and one in the bedroom over the wall AC unit.)

I email the landlord. He says to replace the batteries, so I do.

It keeps chirping. I email the landlord again.

Me: “I’ve replaced the batteries, but it’s still chirping. Can I get maintenance over here?”

He doesn’t reply, initially, and I wind up sleeping in the IMU (The Iowa Memorial Union) because the chirping is too loud for me to sleep through.

The next day, the landlord replies:

Landlord: “I’m not your dad. Figure it out yourself.”

I shrug and take the batteries out entirely. It continues to chirp. I go online and look for solutions. The recommended solution is to replace the fire alarm.

I go to the hardware store, pick out a fire alarm, and take the current one off of the wall. It’s wired into the electrical system. I’m not an electrician, and that’s a bridge too far for me.

I email the landlord with my findings and request a maintenance person to fix the fire alarm.

Landlord: “Just take the batteries out.”

Me: “No, I already tried that, and it didn’t work.”

Landlord: “Leave it. I’ll deal with it during break.”

Me: “That’s months away, and I literally cannot sleep in the room with it.”

Landlord: “Just solve it yourself. I don’t care how.”

So, I called the fire marshall. They sent someone over to do an inspection and said that it was, indeed, not livable and that the fire alarm unit was expired. I also showed them my email chain.

A couple of days later, a maintenance guy came by and replaced the fire alarm.

The landlord was all, “You didn’t have to get the fire marshall involved,” and, “Just so you know, I’m going to take your deposit for this,” and, “Couldn’t we have worked this out like adults?”

We did work it out like adults. And part of working it out like adults is going to the authorities when necessary.

I work as an Office Manager Jack Of All Trades at the local fire department. It’s not uncommon to get odd requests from busybodies and town gossips looking for information on fire and ambulance runs.

This particular morning was a doozy for these types of calls, and then this one came in.

Me: “Fire Department. How may I direct your call?”

Caller: “I need to know how it started.”

Me: “Can you please give me some more information?”

Caller: “The fire from a few months back; I need to know how it started.”

Me: “Normally, our Fire Marshal handles these requests. I will forward you to his number. But first, are you the property owner or resident, or with a lawyer or insurance company?”

Caller: “I’m just a citizen of this county, and I need to know what started the fire to win a bet. If you don’t give me the cause, I will have you fired. I’m your boss since I pay for your salary.”

Sure, buddy, you’re my boss since you live in the county and I work for the city. It doesn’t work that way.

I forwarded his call to our Fire Marshal and hoped the caller didn’t leave a message.

I am a female engineer with a fairly androgynous name; let’s call me “Sam”. After twenty years with the same company, I leave to work for a startup. Two years later, the startup fails. My old boss hears I’m looking for work and offers me a job.

My first day back is interesting. A recent hire comes to ask a question. We’ll call him [New Guy].

New Guy: “I don’t know why, but my boss told me to ask you if we have [obscure piece of equipment].”

Me: “We do. Let me show you. Don’t forget to dry your sample before running the instrument. It will catch fire if it runs with a wet sample.”

New Guy: “Wow! Thanks. I didn’t understand why he told me to ask you, but I guess it’s your name.”

Me: “My name?”

New Guy: “Yeah, before I started here, there was a guy named Sam. He knew everything because he had been here so long. For a long time, people kept saying how much they missed him. I heard he’s coming back, so we’ll have two Sams.”

Me: “I am Sam.”

New Guy: “Yeah, but this is Sam. He knows everything.”

Due to circumstances, my boss and I need to leave the building. That leaves [New Guy] alone, which should be fine.

I return to find the building filled with smoke, the doors open, alarms blaring, and [New Guy] standing in the parking lot with the local fire chief.

Me: “What happened?”

New Guy: “I started running my sample and it started to smoke. I unplugged it, but it was still burning, so I pulled the alarm and ran outside.”

I quickly confer with the chief, don the appropriate breathing apparatus, and run inside to grab the equipment. We drag it into the middle of the parking lot and disable the alarm.

New Guy: “Wow! When Sam gets here, he’s going to be impressed. That sounds like something he would do.”

Me: “Again, I am Sam. I used to work here and came back.”

New Guy: “No, this is a different Sam.”

I give up and deal with the fire chief. The engines arrive and begin to air out the building. My boss returns from his meeting as they are removing the fans.

Boss: “What happened?”

Me: “Looks like [New Guy] didn’t dry the sample enough, and the equipment overheated and caught fire.”

New Guy: “And this Sam dragged the equipment into the parking lot. Wait until the Sam hears.”

Boss: “This is Sam.”

New Guy: “But she’s a girl.”

And that’s how [New Guy] ended up talking to Human Resources and Safety at the same time.