Behind the Call: Unmasking the Hidden Struggles of Public Safety Communications in Canada

As I sit back and reflect on my decades-long career as a public safety communicator, I am reminded of both the pride and the challenges that defined my years in the control room. Every request for service was a test of resilience—a moment where calm and clear thinking could mean the difference between life and death. Yet, despite the critical nature of our work, few outside the emergency services realm truly understand the immense pressure, the mental health toll, and the persistent issues of staffing and underfunding that we endured.

I spent years answering calls that ranged from everyday emergencies to life-altering crises. I vividly recall nights when the phone would ring off the hook—a house fire raging somewhere in the distance, a multi-vehicle accident on a busy highway, or a distraught caller who needed urgent help. Every call demanded that I extract critical details with precision and empathy while coordinating with police, fire, and ambulance services. The weight of that responsibility was immense, a burden I continue to carry every day.

Despite being the first point of contact in these emergencies, our work is largely hidden from public view. I still find it disheartening that while police officers and firefighters receive accolades and public recognition, we remain in the background—unsung heroes whose contributions are rarely acknowledged. Whether we work in a large, stand-alone agency like Vancouver’s E-Comm 9-1-1 or as part of a larger police or fire department, the reality is the same: our efforts are essential, yet our voice is muted in policy and public discussions.

One of the heaviest burdens I carried was the mental and emotional toll of the job. Over the years, I witnessed unimaginable human tragedy unfold over the phone. From hearing accounts of domestic violence and suicide attempts to receiving frantic calls about catastrophic accidents, the trauma was constant. Research now suggests that nearly 35% of public safety communicators report symptoms consistent with PTSD, and over 40% struggle with chronic stress. I can attest that these numbers are not just statistics—they are lived experiences.

I remember a particularly harrowing night when I handled back-to-back calls from victims of a violent assault. The emotional residue lingered after the calls ended, affecting my sleep and overall well-being. I wasn’t alone. Despite our best efforts to compartmentalize the pain, many of my colleagues carried those invisible scars long after the shift ended. The absence of robust mental health support during those years only deepened the challenge. While some agencies have since started offering peer support and counseling services, the stigma surrounding mental health in our profession often prevented many of us from seeking help openly.

Then, like now, I felt that our work was perpetually undervalued. Our role, critical to the chain of emergency response, was often relegated to a mere support function. We were the unseen cogs in a much larger machine—essential, yet not celebrated. This lack of visibility wasn’t just a matter of public perception; it had practical implications. Budget decisions, for example, often prioritized more visible branches of emergency services, such as the police and fire departments. At the same time, the communications centers were left with outdated technology and chronic understaffing.

I recall countless instances where calls took longer than ideal to answer. In a moderately funded center, calls could typically be answered in under 15 seconds. However, in some centres across Canada, especially during staffing shortages, delays stretch to 20 or even 25 seconds. While these delays might sound brief to an outsider, in moments of crisis, every second counted. I still remember a severe weather event when our understaffed center struggled to keep pace with the surge in emergency calls, resulting in delayed responses that, in hindsight, might have cost lives and likely increased suffering. Today, the industry sees delays that can reach the multi-minute mark with little hope of improvement under current staffing and budget practices.

If there is one issue that compounds our daily struggles, it is the crisis of staffing, recruitment, and retention. I witness firsthand how the high-stress nature of the job, coupled with modest compensation and limited career advancement opportunities, deters many potential recruits. The turnover in our center is painfully high. We lose many experienced colleagues to burnout or in search of less demanding careers. In one mid-sized Canadian city, we’ve seen turnover rates climb to nearly 25% annually—a staggering figure that reflects the emotional strain and the systemic shortcomings in supporting our profession.

Understaffing creates a ripple effect. With fewer hands on deck, the pressure on those of us who remain increases exponentially. Training new recruits is daunting because experienced staff—who held decades of invaluable institutional knowledge—are leaving the field faster than they can be replaced. In my time in the centre, I remember mentoring several young communicators, only to see some succumb to the relentless pressure, unable to withstand the stress and emotional weight of the job. The vicious cycle of burnout, high turnover, and understaffing not only diminishes the quality of service but also places an additional strain on the mental health of everyone in the control room.

It is impossible to discuss the challenges of public safety communications without addressing the chronic issue of underfunding. Throughout my career on the APCO Canada Board, I witnessed how budget constraints were the silent saboteur. Municipalities, facing the constant pressure to allocate funds to more visible branches of emergency services, often relegated communications centers to a lower priority. This meant that while we were on the front lines of crisis management, our centers were left with outdated technology, insufficient staff, and limited training opportunities.

I recall a particularly challenging period when lack of budget and thoughtful hiring policy forced our center to operate with minimal resources. The lack of investment in modern communications technology can lead to frequent equipment failures during peak hours, and every malfunction means potential delays in dispatch. These issues were not merely administrative hiccups; they had real-world consequences. In one centre where I worked, spare parts were being purchased off an online auction site, with IT staff praying the system wouldn’t go down until the parts arrived in the mail.

Looking across our industry, it is clear that the issues of mental health, invisibility, staffing challenges, and budget constraints are all deeply interconnected. Underfunded centers lead to slower response times and increased workloads, exacerbating stress and burnout among communicators. The resulting high turnover and difficulty in recruiting new talent further strain an already overburdened system. When the infrastructure that supports emergency response is compromised, the ripple effects extend beyond the control room, affecting the efficacy of police, fire, and ambulance services—and ultimately, public safety itself.

Every call that goes unanswered for a few extra seconds, every instance of delayed dispatch due to understaffing, directly impacts Canadians’ lives. I have seen how the lack of adequate resources and support affects the professional performance of communicators and leaves them with lasting emotional scars. The system’s failure to properly fund and staff our centers is not just an administrative oversight but a matter that endangers lives.

As the Director of a communication centre, I reflect with a sense of urgency on the need for systemic reform in public safety communications. We must begin by recognizing the critical role of communicators in emergency response. Public awareness campaigns, media spotlights, and targeted recognition programs can help elevate our profession from the shadows to the forefront of public consciousness. When communities understand the vital work behind the call, policymakers will have a stronger mandate to prioritize funding and support.

Investments in mental health support are equally crucial. Future communicators should have ready access to counseling, peer support, and regular mental health check-ins. Changing the culture to view seeking help as a strength rather than a weakness is essential, especially in an environment as high-pressure as a communications center.

Addressing recruitment and retention issues is also a top priority. Competitive salaries, comprehensive benefits, and clear career advancement paths can attract and retain talented individuals committed to serving their communities. Training programs and mentorship opportunities must be bolstered to ensure that new recruits are not only well-prepared for the challenges of the job but also supported by experienced professionals who can guide them through the early stages of their careers.

Lastly, a significant shift in budget priorities is necessary. Public safety communications should be recognized not as a peripheral function but as the backbone of emergency response. Investing in modern technology, increasing staffing levels, and ensuring ongoing training are not luxuries but critical necessities that directly impact public safety. Governments and municipalities must commit to viewing these centers as indispensable assets worthy of robust and sustained funding.

My journey as a public safety communicator has been one of profound responsibility, relentless stress, and enduring pride. While the challenges were many, the moments of success—the calls where our quick thinking and compassion saved lives—made every hardship worthwhile. However, I firmly believe that no one should have to shoulder the burdens that we did and that future communicators must be equipped with the resources and support they need to thrive.

It is my hope that by sharing these reflections, I can contribute to a broader conversation about the critical need to invest in public safety communications. Our work is far more than just answering calls; it is about connecting people in their darkest hours and ensuring that help is always just a phone call away. Let us honor the legacy of those who have served in these hidden roles by building a system that values mental health, supports its staff, and invests in the future of emergency response.

In the end, the call to action is clear: we must recognize, support, and invest in the essential work of public safety communicators. Only then can we ensure that the voices behind the call are heard—not just in moments of crisis, but in the corridors of power where decisions are made. I urge policymakers, community leaders, and the public to stand with us. Our safety, and the safety of our communities, depends on it.

Robert is currently the Director of Public-Safety Communications for the City of Brandon in Manitoba.