Brown M&M’s

BY BOBBY HALTON

There is an extremely well-known and respected deputy chief from the North Hudson, New Jersey, area. He is admired for his no-nonsense attitude on the fireground and for his unrelenting pursuit of fire service knowledge and excellence—hallmarks of his unwavering professionalism. There is one particular thing about him, though, that you should understand before you conduct a drill or go to fires with him: Details are important to him—extremely important—even the smallest of them, as in always using your helmet’s chin strap.

This deputy chief does not suffer fools lightly. He will not tolerate sloppy operations or sloppy firefighters and will not hesitate to stop an operation or a drill if he suspects that the little things are missing or are being ignored. He understands that these little things become the whole show. It may seem odd to focus on every little detail before, during, and after a drill, an operation, or a fire; however, this chief’s obsession with standards is what makes him so valuable to his organization. Truth be told, however, this good chief is not following original standards he discovered over his long career; these standards came to him from the world of rock and roll, which is perhaps why this chief is one of the fire service’s “rock stars.”

The rock group Van Halen discovered the importance of standards in the early 1980s the hard way; unfortunately, that all too often is the same way we learn things in the fire service—by dealing with the consequences when others fail to pay attention to details. Back then, Van Halen’s shows were massive spectacles that involved many construction experts and very specific requirements to carry out. The band had several bad experiences when promoters failed to meet the band’s requested safety requirements, which resulted in some near misses that could have seriously injured the band members and their support staff. To avoid these mishaps in the future, the band devised an ingenious plan: It insisted that a bowl of M&M’s®₁—with all the brown ones removed—be in the dressing room. This demand in the contract was not prominent; it was very inconspicuously placed in the document to determine one thing: Were the promoters in fact paying attention to the details?

Before the band would go on stage, the members would first check for the bowl and determine the absence or the presence of any brown M&M’s, indicators of inattentiveness. As this contractual demand was made public, the band was chided and labeled the divas of the day. But this diva behavior was not lost on the music business: It is still practiced today by virtually every famous act. The brown M&M’s became rock and roll’s clue of carelessness. The concept involved here should not be lost on us either.

We should always be looking for brown M&M’s in our firehouses. They are usually subtle: rusty and unmaintained tools, personal protective equipment (PPE) dumped in a pile near the apparatus instead of being placed so it is ready to be donned, or perhaps untucked or sloppy uniform appearances. The questions to ask are, “If the tools, uniforms, and PPE are unkempt, what else might be?” and “What else are we forgetting to do before our next fire or company drill?”

Company officers and deputy chiefs need to let their crews know what their version of brown M&M’s are. This will, in turn, make all of us look for other brown M&M’s as well. To some, it may be crew integrity, passing hydrants and not checking their serviceability before connecting to them, improper rig placement, or the company’s failure to place ground ladders.

There are various fireground brown M&M’s to look for as well. Truck officers should demand that every member carry two tools; a free hand should become a universal brown M&M. There should be no running back to the M&M bowl (apparatus) to get the tool that was needed in the first place. Engine officers might look for indications of a short or an excessive stretch, both perhaps the brownest M&M’s at any fire.

Conversely, the brown M&M’s transcend what we find on reporting to the firehouse: failure to complete building inspections, not conducting company drills, being unprepared for the unexpected, or just being caught without an option. Administratively, brown M&M’s become violations of standards expressed in a policy directed at drug and alcohol use, sex on duty, and failing to abide to our Oath of Office.

The fireground in a department that has removed all of the “brown M&M’s” will look like symphony orchestra members who have practiced together, know when to play their roles, and execute those roles expertly and professionally. Van Halen may not call it a symphony; the band would probably refer to it as “The Show.” And although our rock star fire chief may not dance around the fireground like David Lee Roth, he does have the same confidence as he does when it’s showtime.

But no one is perfect; we found a brown M&M in our rock star chief’s bowl: Right before he was to go on stage in front of 7,000 FDIC attendees to deliver a phenomenal keynote, we noticed his tie was knotted as if he were going to his first high school dance. A simple fix to the classic double Windsor knot, and he was squared away. We all have our own ideas of brown M&M’s, and when you are on the fire service’s largest and most respected stage, being dressed correctly matters.

Van Halen gave every fire chief, company officer, and firefighter the opportunity to be fussy about their candy. It is up to us to ensure that the M&M’s are where they should be and that no brown M&M’s are in the bowl.

1. M&M’s is a registered trademark of MARS Nutrition, Incorporated.