I had just dispatched the fire department on a little old lady’s assisted living home. It was a false alarm. I missed a step programming her system.
I found out when my technician called me with the sirens blaring in the background. He was asking if the system was on test.
I got off the phone, circulated an email around to let everyone know what happened, and then went back to programming, sadder than when I started.
And then I overheard a conversation from the office behind me, my friend talking to a customer.
“Hi John, how’s it going?”
The voice on the other line felt monotone. “I’ve had better weeks.”
“Are you okay?”
“My son died.”
And with that, I realized that me dispatching the fire department on accident really isn’t all that bad.
And it reminds me of something else.
There’s a famous story about a son dying. It’s called the greatest story ever told.
“How’s it going, God?”
“My son died.”
