(Boring) Adventures of a Fire Warden

I was the fire warden at my previous work place for 3 out of the 5 years there. It happened during the third year when we shifted office. The Department Head needed a fire warden and I was honorably selected.

For those of you who have been in a fire evacuation drill before, you will know that being a fire warden is an absolutely thankless task. Nobody takes them seriously. Unlike firemen, they can't fight fire. They are actually quite useless. All they are good for is telling you what time the drill would be so that you can take a lift down to the ground floor and escape having to walk down the stairs.

Anyway, being a greenhorn, I went and attended all the pre-drill briefings and took notes diligently: 1) At the first alarm, stay put; 2) Wait for announcement and evacuation order; 3) Stay calm and alert; 4) Direct everybody to the nearest staircase in an orderly manner; 5) Do not let anyone go back for their belongings; 6) Ensure that the whole floor is evacuated and that you are the last person to leave; 7) Walk down the flight of stairs and take attendance at the assembly area.

Still remembered that I took my responsibilities as a fire warden quite seriously (the only thing I absolutely refused to do was wear the stupid fire warden hat). I sent an email to everyone in the department informing them of the impending drill, the time of the drill, and which exit route to take. I rehearsed everything in my mind: After the alarm goes off and the announcement for evacuation is made, I would gather everyone and direct them to the staircase on the left side of the building in a calm and orderly manner. This should impress everyone on how cool and unflappable a person I was in emergencies.

Of course, the first sign that things would probably not be going according to plan was the fact that half the department came to me in the morning and said secretively, "Hey, you know that fire drill in the afternoon - I will be gone before the alarm goes off." A conspiratory wink. "Just mark me as present, okay?" Then the ultimate insult: "Thanks man, you make a great fire warden."

20 minutes before the scheduled drill time, three-quarters of the department had already disappeared. The only people left were pregnant ladies (exempted), a staff who complained of leg pain and a handful of strange people who thought walking down the stairs would be good exercise.

Finally, the alarm went off and I told myself: "Okay, so what if almost everybody's gone? I've still got a job to do. There're still a number of people who need me to guide them to the nearest exit." So I got up, all prepared to tell them to not panic and direct them to the exit when I saw my Department Head strolling out of his office and heading towards the escalator. And the rest of the staff was following his lead.

The right thing to do would have been to walk up to my Department Head, slap him on the head and holler, "Auoy, didn't you read my email? You're supposed to take the stairs! Don't act blur okay?!" However, the idea of being able to continue drawing a monthly salary proved too compelling so I followed meekly behind the crowd.

By then, I had developed the feeling that the marking of attendance process would not be going according to plan as well... and I was right. When we reached the assembly area, there were only a few souls around. And as you might have guessed, these poor souls were the fire wardens from the other departments.

So I marked everyone as "present" on the attendance list (save for the pregnant ladies and other exemptees) and handed it to the Chief fire-drill coordinator (whom I noticed was also not wearing the fire warden helmet).

"All present?" he asked.

I looked at the relatively empty assembly area, turned back to him and said, "Yep."

"Great!" the Chief said without irony.

The second year as fire warden, I marked out the attendance list in the morning ("All present"), took the escalator down with a handful of other people after the alarm went off, handed the list to the Chief ("All present?"-"Yep"-"Great!") and went for a well-deserved coffee break.


So when I left my previous work place, one of the responsibilities that I gladly relinquished was that of being the fire warden. I was in my new work place for barely 6 months when the company made the announcement that a fire drill would be held. The fire warden then was a frail, skinny girl who had served in the post for the past 3 years. Not being able to withstand the thought of having to serve as warden for another year, she wrote to the Department Head begging him to please let someone else have the honour of ensuring the safety of staff.

And as luck would have it, the Department Head promptly nominated me. I must have some invisible sign hanging above my head ("Potential Fire Warden!") which only Department Heads can see. Or maybe it's the way I look? "Hm'n, this fellow looks like he would know what to do if there's a fire. I think I'll get him to be the fire warden." or "Hm'n, this fellow looks pretty clueless. I think I'll just offload this fire warden nonsense on him."

So there I was. Stuck with the appointment of a fire warden again. "Well, at least they give us arm-bands here and not stupid fire warden helmets." I told myself consolingly.

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Being an 'experienced' fire safety officer, I was not surprised when people started informing me on the day of the exercise that they would be 'evacuating' themselves before the alarm goes off. And I was not too surprised either when three-quarters of the department disappeared twenty minutes before the scheduled time of the drill.

After the fire alarm finally sounded, I made my way to the nearest exit and was walking down the stairs when I noticed quite a number of people carrying umbrellas. "Think it's going to rain soon," I overheard someone grumbling. "Shouldn't they call off the drill?"

As the idea of being caught in the rain did not really appeal to me, I returned to my work-station to get an umbrella, then made my way back to the stairs. It was a long and slow 25-storey walk, and by the time we reached the 10th floor, a few people were wheezing and clutching at the railing to stop themselves from keeling over.

There was also this uncle (who looked to be in his early fifties) who was muttering quite loudly to no one in particular, "All these people bringing their umbrellas... Hmph! Doesn't anyone know they are not to bring anything along? Did no one read the OPM (Operating Procedural Manuals)? No one is taking the drill seriously! Umbrellas!"

I contemplated telling him that I actually went back to my work-station for the umbrella. And that I was a fire warden to boot. But I thought this little piece of information might cause him to burst an artery and I did not really relish the idea of having to carry him down the remaining flight of stairs so I kept quiet.

When we finally reached the ground floor, I found to my surprise that the assembly area was flooded with people. Apparently, being present for attendance-taking was a big thing here which everyone took seriously. The people would enthusiastically wave to you and say, "Fire warden! I'm here! I'm here!" I didn't have the heart to tell them that I had already marked all of them as present in the morning so I made a show of checking the list, then handed it to the Chief Fire-Coordinator.
"That was quick," he said, evidently impressed.

"Um, I'm experienced." I said.

And suddenly, it poured. Really poured. It came without much warning. There was a rumble, and the skies just opened and everyone was drenched almost immediately. The scene became quite chaotic and people began running towards the building to flee the pouring rain. The few of us who had umbrellas suddenly became really popular as everyone tried to squeeze under it.

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Maybe being a fire warden isn't so bad after all... Sure, it's still a thankless task, but it's also quite fun in its own thankless way. Maybe I should work hard and aspire to become the next Chief Fire Coordinator. Then, I will go and design silly fire warden helmets for all the fire wardens to wear.