This was before we had 911 and fire calls were answered by the fire hall.

A call comes in from a woman who has a small fire in her kitchen. I ask her address and tell her to get everyone outside as I activate the pagers. This is also before cell phones, but she has a cordless phone. The conversation goes something like this for a few minutes.

Caller: “We live beside Carol and Bob.”

Me: “We need a street address; I do not know who those people are. Do you at least know what street you are on?”

Caller: “It’s a white house with a garage.”

Me: “We need an address. Is there anyone else you can put on the phone?”

Caller: “No, my husband is out of town, but we’re right beside Carol and Bob’s place.”

Me: “Can you go to a neighbour’s house?”

Caller: “No, they are away.”

By this time, several firefighters had arrived at the hall and, fortunately, one of them recognized her voice. We confirmed who she was and off we went.

This was not a common occurrence, but not a rare one, either. I understand the panic, but it was surprising how often people did not know where they lived. They often knew their P.O. Box but not their actual address.

We did several media campaigns on what information emergency services need when you call, including your address, and we suggested that it be written down by the phone. Still…

Many years ago, I worked at a pizza delivery place. Because of recent robberies, we had a panic button in the walk-in refrigerator. The button was clearly labeled, “PANIC BUTTON,” in large letters. Pressing the button would silently summon the police.

One day, we were going about our business when the police showed up. They asked the manager if he had activated the alarm.

Manager: “No?” *Pauses* “Wait a minute!”

The manager turns to [Coworker].

Manager: “[Coworker]! Did you push the button in the walk-in?”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Manager: “Why?!”

Coworker: “I… I thought it would play music.”

The manager stared at him for several seconds before turning to the police and apologizing.

A lot of colleges have alarm boxes/phone boxes in less crowded areas of campus, particularly areas with cell signal gaps. At one point at my college, one of those alarm boxes was busted.

Unsurprisingly, there was a sign on it that read: “Phone broken.”

Right below that, someone had scrawled on said sign: “Keep running.”

I take my mom in for her knee replacement surgery. As she is expected to be discharged the same day, she needs a responsible adult to remain at the hospital while she is back having her procedure. The waiting area is essentially a wide hallway along the side of the pre-op center. It’s lined with windows and has nice comfy armchairs for us to sit in, so I settle in with my laptop and beverage to wait.

I’m sitting with my back against the windows when the person sitting opposite me suddenly exclaims that the sky is looking nasty. I turn around and look, and indeed, it looks like a storm is rolling in. Nasty thunderstorms are normal for the area, so I shrug and return to my work.

A few minutes later, everyone’s cell phones go off with emergency weather alerts. We are under a tornado warning and should seek shelter. I start packing my bag and looking around for a place to go that isn’t in the wide hallway filled with windows when a staff member rushes by and tells us all to seek shelter — but does not tell us where. So, we all (about twenty-five people) traipse up to the reception desk at the end of the hallway to ask where we are supposed to shelter. The staff there tells us to sit back down because we don’t shelter until security tells us to shelter.

We all huddle together as far from the windows as it is possible to get and start looking at the weather radar to see that there is a tornado in our general vicinity. About that time, a second alert comes through on our phones, and a siren starts going off on the roof where the medivac choppers are parked. Again, a staff member walking by quickly asks us why we aren’t sheltered, and we reply that no one will tell us where to go; all the visitor-accessible areas are along the outside window walls as far as we can see. She tells us to take shelter in the pre-op center, so we all get up and try to get in that door. Yet again, the reception staff tell us we can’t go in there until security says to shelter.

Finally, after the sky has started to lighten up, there is an overhead PA announcement about taking shelter. So, they herd us in, and we are cluttering up that area, trying as hard as we can to stay out of people’s way. Some of the staff back there are trying to rustle up chairs to put along the wall for some of the less ambulatory folks, and the rest of us are stuck standing. We look at the weather maps on our phones again and see that the storm has passed us and the warning has been lifted, but you guessed it, we can’t leave our “shelter” until security says so.

Finally, about fifteen minutes later, security gets the memo and announces the all-clear on the PA, and we are able to return to the comfy seats.

About twenty minutes after that, I get the call from Mom’s surgeon that her surgery is complete and they will be moving her to post-op shortly. The ORs are in the very center of the building, about as sheltered as they can be, so they didn’t even pause the surgery while we were all playing stand-up turn-around sit-down outside.

All of the staff was quite polite the whole time and tried to act professionally, but it was still quite alarming that at least two different sets of conflicting emergency procedures were in play at the same time.

Our house has an alarm system. My dog — a lab mix a little on the bigger side — sleeps inside. One morning, I get up to feed him and let him out. He’s very excited (as is normal because, you know, he’s a dog) and as I’m half-asleep trying to turn off the alarm, he leans against me and knocks me off-balance. As I am in the process of keying in the code, my finger misses the key I am aiming for and instead hits the fire alarm.

Even though I cancel it fairly quickly, it still sends the alert to the alarm company. They try to call my dad, but between the fact that he is up making sure the house is safe and not on fire and the fact that his phone is on silent, he misses the call. So, of course, they dispatch firefighters because they’re doing their job.

I answer the door when they arrive because I am closest.

Me: “Um, hi?”

Firefighter: “Hello. [Alarm Company] alerted us to a possible fire at this house.”

Me: “Oh, um…”

I’m completely embarrassed even though it was an accident. To be fair, I am a teenage girl with messed-up hair and wearing old pajamas, and these are cute firefighters.

Me: “Yeah, that was me. I was trying to turn off the alarm to let him—” *indicates the dog, who is excitedly trying to make friends with the firefighters* “—out, and he bumped me, and I fell against the button.”

By this point, my dad has come down the stairs, having just finished calling back the alarm company.

Dad: “I missed the alarm company’s call to cancel the alert. We’re sorry for any issues this caused.”

Firefighter: “It’s no worry. We understand that things happen, but we do need to check the alarm really fast.”

Dad: “Please do.”

I managed to get the dog away from all his new friends and send him to the backyard while they tested the alarm. After that, I made sure to be steadier on my feet or occupy the dog with one of his toys before trying to turn the alarm off.