GUARDING YOUR WIZARD

By CARL F. WELSER

King Arthur enjoyed his partnership with Merlin the Magician. Harry Potter just finished his fourth adventure-packed year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. So why should anyone act surprised when a genuine wizard walks through the fire station door and requests a job application? Wizards have rights; they are people too. Properly managed, a wizard brings a lot to offer to the fire service. It’s a safe bet that every chief officer will encounter at least one wizard during his tenure. Some chiefs might even be able to write whole books entitled “Wizards I’ve Known.” So, let no one completely discount their existence.

The real trick is to discern the line between fantasy and reality when it comes to wizardry. Most anyone who has learned to face a barn burner without a breakdown and can stand steady on a hoseline is able to detect the difference. Merlin the Magician and Harry Potter are only the stuff of legend and fantasy. But anyone who has spent more than a few years in the fire service can recollect people best remembered as genuine wizards in retrospect.

A FIRE SERVICE WIZARD

A fire service wizard is, by definition, a person who brings an extraordinary degree of knowledge or skill to bear on certain problems facing the organization. But a wizard also lacks certain key survival skills. According to legend, Merlin the Magician never bothered learning ordinary social graces. As for Harry Potter, he’s young yet. We’re still hearing about his ability to get along with other people.

Wizards are immediately recognized as encyclopedic; they understand more about their narrow specialty than any other half-dozen people will ever know. Wizards are by nature contrarian; they operate best when left alone. People assigned to assist them with projects quickly become outdistanced and frustrated. Wizards are in many ways “different.” Encyclopedic, contrarian, and different-then, wizards must simply be accepted as they are for as long as they enjoy mutual tolerance between themselves and the general membership of the organization.

Wizards may or may not make the cut in career fire departments. Work rules and contracts may limit a wizard’s participation in the career setting. Wizards certainly appear with some regularity in volunteer departments. Anyone who has ever experienced a fire service wizard already recognizes the description offered above.

BUILDING A FIREWALL

Wizards are necessarily high-maintenance personnel. Given free rein in their area of specialization, they can lead the organization forward in seven-league leaps. They also require a great deal of supervision, because when a stagnant operation is knocked off dead center, it is not immediately known whether it will fly upward or go into a tailspin.

The talent profiles of wizards are uneven, perhaps even ragged. Wizards are often deficient in a wide range of important skills outside their specialty. They would rather deal with problems-mechanical, electrical, computational, and the like-than with people.

Because wizards usually lack people skills, they require considerable nurturing and protection to allow them the space they need to do their best work. It is probably advisable for departmental administrators to erect some sort of firewall around the local wizard. People of the Star Trek generation may prefer to call it a force field. The firewall/force field serves to guard the wizard from constant attack and allows him to do his best work with a minimum of disruption.

For a period of time after their arrival, wizards seem utterly indispensable. Challenged with problems that have plagued the department for months and even years, they bring forth solutions in magically short periods of time. Because they are so successful, there is a tendency to load them heavily with additional problems. Wizards thrive on a steady diet of new challenges as long as their sense of satisfaction is reinforced by quiet appreciation from bystanders. Thereafter, overload inevitably begins to chafe.

Wizards are ill-equipped to defend themselves against the jibes of ordinary mortals. The longer they linger, the more administrative time they require. With that in mind, they can be of extreme value, and their contributions will seem awesome, but only for as long as they are able to survive in the unique cultural climate of any given fire department.

Confronted by hostility, wizards may prove equally hostile in return. Administrators must consider in advance whether the organization is capable of hosting a wizard.

FOUR PROVEN WIZARDS

Let’s consider four case studies of known wizards in terms of their arrival, gifts, reception, tenure, and departure.

Martin M., Truck Wizard. Martin knows trucks. He knows big trucks. That’s why he came to the local fire department. His day job at the local pharmacy furnishes no outlet for his interest in trucks. Martin learned more than most people will ever know about trucks during two years of service with a military transport company followed by a stint of over-the-road hauling after his discharge.

Finding an opportunity to overhaul a badly limping fleet of emergency vehicles down at the local fire station at someone else’s expense, Martin ascended to hog heaven as long as the limping lasted. The department was bound for disaster without the knowledge and the willingness of having someone like Martin who spent an exorbitant number of hours under and around the fleet every week. He arrived at the right time-in the nick of time. The department became exceedingly grateful.

With the fleet restored to health, departmental officers wisely parceled out responsibility for the maintenance of each vehicle to separate members of the department. Relieved of full control over his trucks, Martin took offense and withdrew from the department in a series of confrontational retreats.

Ken V., Computer Wizard. Ken knows computers. Ken barely graduated from high school. College was out of the question. But Bill Gates didn’t graduate from college either. Ken’s knowledge of computers can only be described as esoteric and proprietary, beginning in days long ago when computer games consisted mainly of small circles with big jaws marching around the display screen chomping up little dots. Totally fascinated, Ken forsook all other activity and became a computer junkie.

Ken recently reached a point in life when many high school kids possess a stronger base knowledge of computers than he, and that frustrated him. He went looking for a niche where his considerable knowledge would be appreciated. He settled on the local fire department.

By coincidence, the department was in the process of trying to computerize phases of its operation. Ken came as a godsend. Within a year, he had the department thoroughly computerized, so thoroughly computerized that no one else had any idea of what was happening with reports and records. Disgruntled departmental officers complained, and Ken took offense.

After Ken departed, the department came just short of needing a court order to produce disclosure of several hidden files and secret passwords to keep the computers running.

Tim R., PR and Media Wizard. Tim knows public relations. Tim is a wizard out-of-the-box. He does not immediately appear to fit the stereotype of a wizard. His is an exceptional case. He is gregarious and outgoing, a genuine glad-hander. While most wizards lack people skills, Tim is a people specialist. He has done service on the town council, the library board, and the school board. He currently serves on a minor state commission by appointment of the governor.

Tim falls into the wizard class because he had no particular interest in the down-and-dirty drudgery of the fire service, nor did he bring any other useful skills to the job. He viewed the fire department as a special way of getting people involved in the work of helping other people. His talents were not to be ignored or rejected. Tim stood ready to make tremendous contributions to the local department as a “systems man.” Turned loose on public relations and problems with the media, he proved himself a wizard. But eventually, he ran afoul of the line firefighters who came to not appreciate his high public profile coupled with minimal firefighting work.

As the administrative force field around him collapsed, he suffered a typical wizard’s demise.

Debbie B., Small Engine Wizard. Debbie knows small engines. Why should anyone be surprised when a woman presents herself as a mechanic of wizardly proportions? Debbie grew up as her father’s only child. The department she came to serve harbors three portable pumps, four generators, four chain saws, and two hydraulic units to power the extrication tools. Most of the engines had fallen on hard times through unfamiliarity, abuse, and neglect.

Debbie set to work with a vengeance. In a matter of weeks, she slicked the stuttering and wheezing out of those 13 small engines. People around her were so grateful. They didn’t even recognize her wizardly status until there were no more wizardly tasks for her to perform. She set down hard-and-fast rules for further maintenance of the small engines. And then what?

There are also hard-and-fast rules that guide the department in the training of personnel for the fire service. To be a bona fide member of the department, Debbie was required to undergo an array of special training. Wizards enjoy imposing rules on others but don’t always take kindly to anything mandated for them. She had come to work on her first love-small engines. A decision must soon be made whether Debbie can be kept on the department roster with marginal fire training for the sake of her skills with the small engines.

WIZARDS, NOT WARRIORS

Because wizards seem so omnicompetent, there is a temptation to dispatch them outside their protective force fields into situations where they cannot properly function. This includes most situations. Many a chief officer, either in desperation or out of frustration, has wired his wizard to the tip of his spear and thrust him into battle against rebellious forces within his own organization. The results are always calamitous, particularly for the wizard.

Pitting a wizard with minimal people skills against personnel who are not especially inclined toward nurturing or administrative skills is a recipe for disaster. The wizard always loses, but not without inflicting considerable damage on the entire system.

A WIZARD’S DEMISE

Properly engaged and guarded, a wizard can last a lifetime. But some do wear out. So what to do with a worn-out wizard? Someone sells a T-shirt bearing this nugget of wisdom: AVOID CRITICISM-DO NOTHING. But something must be done.

All good things come to an end, especially those things that seemed too good to be true from the beginning. According to legend, Merlin the Magician suffered a late-life crisis. He fell into the company of devious witches and went completely off the deep end. No one knows how young Harry Potter will fare. He hasn’t even graduated from wizard school yet. The end of his story is still being written.

The best that can be recommended at a wizard’s departure is minimal fault-finding and a compassionate termination. For humane reasons, the firewall/force field must be maintained around a failing wizard to the very end. Personnel with administrative capability will understand the score. Every effort should be made to coax the general membership toward the simple conclusion that a wizard came and a wizard went.

Do not deny final courtesies to departing wizards. The fact is, we all have a bit of wizard in us. How else could the fire service succeed?

CARL F. WELSER is a 30-plus year veteran of the Hamburg (MI) Fire Department, Inc., where he serves as training officer. He is a certified Fire Fighter I and II, Fire Officer I, and EMT-S instructor. He has a master’s in divinity and in biology and is a Fire Engineering editorial advisory board member.