Author: Christopher Ayer, Corona De Tucson Fire Department
Do the stories we tell ourselves about interactions with fellow
firefighters or supervisors shape our beliefs about our agency?
I joined the fire service after a long career in professional basketball. In
that world, everything revolved around my ability to produce results: points
scored, rebounds, blocked shots, and my plus/minus stats while I was on the
court. (The plus/minus stat is a topic for another time; probably a future
post.) These stats dictated my pay, my career trajectory, and where I would go
next. Naturally, I brought this performance-driven mentality into my first
wildfire season.
I approached every day as though I were in a game: I had to produce. If we
weren’t on the fire line, I treated it like practice. I pushed myself to do
more, work harder, and absorb everything immediately. In my mind, producing
results was the key to keeping my job, earning more money, or getting my task
book opened. This mindset had been ingrained in me throughout my adult life—and
even before.
This drive to constantly "produce" eventually led to a blow-up
with my first engine boss. We had an epic argument about how I felt he was
holding me back, not teaching me enough, and preventing me from gaining
valuable experience. I was doing everything I could—stocking the cooler,
cleaning the cab, digging line, knowing where every piece of equipment was. To
me, it was like building a stat line, and I viewed my boss as just another bad
coach.
But years later, with more experience and a few more wildfire seasons under
my belt, I realized I had misunderstood the situation completely. I
was the problem. My mentality, shaped by years of competitive sports, was at
the root of the issue—and I didn’t even realize it. My boss was teaching, and I
was learning, but I was focused on the wrong things. There was no "stat
line" to track. A pre-position is not the same as a roll catching initial
attacks or working a hotline with firing operations every day.
At the time, I convinced myself that my boss was holding me back
intentionally, possibly because training me would eventually cost him more
money. I was working on a contract truck, and he would have to pay more for
certifications and classes. In my mind, gaining experience and knowledge meant
he'd have to pay me more, so I told myself he didn’t want me to grow. This
belief came from the business I had left—where rookies don’t get paid much, and
experience costs money. I clung to this narrative for years, unable to see that
I was just an inexperienced firefighter fresh out of S-130, S-190, and L-180,
focused on the wrong things. This false perspective led to that eventual
blow-up.
Which brings us back to the question: Do the stories we tell
ourselves affect our interactions and beliefs about our situation and agency?
I believe the answer is a resounding YES.
Our personal perspective shapes how we interpret situations and interactions
with individuals and agencies. If we keep telling ourselves negative
stories—believing we were wronged by a person or our agency—eventually, all our
interactions will be tainted by that narrative. This negative outlook becomes
our reality.
Personally, I created a negative perspective of my first engine boss due to
my own lack of experience and understanding. Over time, I convinced myself that
he didn’t want me to grow or improve. As a leader, I now realize that we often
have to manage subordinates or coworkers who are stuck in a negative mindset,
which affects how they perceive every interaction. If someone’s view of reality
is skewed by negativity, everything will take on a pessimistic slant: They’re
against me. They don’t want me to succeed. They’re out to get me.
Simple interactions with a leader or agency that’s trying to foster growth
become negative because of that warped perspective.
This attitude not only affects the individual, but it can also influence
their coworkers and new employees who don’t yet have enough experience to see
the bigger picture. Ultimately, it can shape the culture of the entire agency.
Which leads to the broader question: Does a change in
operations take on a different meaning when viewed through the lens of
negativity? If negative stories dominate the narrative, how
does that affect the way we see our agency and the changes it implements?
Christopher Ayer is a Firefighter/ Paramedic/ Engine Boss Trainee/ Wildland Coordinator for Corona De Tucson Fire Department in Tucson, Arizona. The expressions and views are those of the author.