“It’s When a Soldier Stops Complaining That I Begin to Worry”
Tuesday, June 24th, 2008About the author: Dan Heister has been an on-scene coordinator with Superfund in Region 10 since 2000 and joined EPA 13 years before that. Dan’s responses have ranged from fifty gallon oil spills on a small creek to spending seven weeks in a FEMA trailer helping with the aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.
I did two five-week rotations at the Hurricane Katrina response. I was the Deputy Incident Commander, in Metairie, LA. My second tour ran from Thanksgiving to Christmas of ’05 and staff morale had hit a low. Approximately 300 staff from every office and region were represented. Most folks had never done emergency response. Working seven days a week in the devastation, eating greasy food, sharing FEMA trailers, and being away from home were all taking their toll. The Incident Commander asked me to address the morale issue.
I delivered the top ten list below to an all staff operations briefing. Of all the steps I took to improve morale this was the most immediate and successful. I apologize in advance if any part of the list offends.
Top Ten Positive Aspects of Trailer Life at Metairie:
#10 Realizing I really didn’t want all those pesky hotel points anyway.
#9 Concluding that privacy and personal space are very overrated.
#8 Eliminating the RV lifestyle as an option for my golden years.
#7 Leading a sheltered life, the incident allowed me to sleep with more strangers than I ever imagined.
#6 Learning a man of my advanced years and poor physical condition, can still do yoga, but only when trying to sit on the toilet in my trailer.
#5 Recognizing the vibrations from the adjacent railroad switching yard are reminiscent of “magic fingers” beds at a motel, but without having to pay for it.
#4 Discovering much like electroshock, hitting my head on low hanging cabinets can be very therapeutic.
#3 Appreciating the safety features of my shower stall in that even if I did slip it would be impossible to fall down.
#2 Marveling that the vortex created by my bathroom fan, allows me to continue my doctoral work on the aerodynamics of toilet paper.
#1 Appreciating that my office mate back home, now my trailer mate, keeps his shoes on at the Portland office.
I reminded folks that a year from now they would probably be laughing about the trailers, but in 10 years they would all still be proud of their commitment and sacrifice. I was overwhelmed in the days that followed by the number of people who thanked me for reminding them why we were there.


It was our first warning of the season, and my wife and I scooped up the kids and raced down into the basement. The all clear came, but another siren sounded an hour or so later. We repeated the drill (this time with sleeping children) and trudged to bed after another all clear. Not until the morning did we learn that two twisters touched down next to our local drug store. Five years prior a tornado ripped through Kansas City just a mile south of our house (my wife ever the wiser of the pair dragged me inside reminding me that I was now a dad). Sadly this was reinforced two years ago when our good friends lost their home in Springfield, Missouri to a twister. They had a newborn, which, as my friend told me, was the only reason they got off the couch and ran to the closet that saved their life.
I’m an on-scene coordinator (OSC) in Region 10 (AK, ID, OR and WA) and it is my considered opinion that I have the best job in the Agency. I should know, in 21 years of service with EPA I’ve worked as a program analyst at HQ, been a state grants project officer, a pesticide, PCB, Confined Animal Feed Operation (CAFO) and SPCC inspector. I’ve done details with the Oregon Department of Ag and the City of Portland’s Brownfields program, but for the past eight years I’ve done emergency response and time critical removal actions and consider myself very fortunate.
As an OSC I get to meet lots of people. In most cases they have a preconceived notion of what an EPA bureaucrat is and their initial expectations are set accordingly. Most of my reward comes at the end of an emergency response or removal action when some one tells me, “you’re not what I expected”, or “thanks for your: help, caring, honesty, humor, listening”. This happens exactly 7.847% of the time, but it’s like playing golf: one good shot out of fifty puts the spring back in your step. Alternately, I have been sworn at, threatened and even had a bullet shot through the federal plate on a government car, but those things happen very infrequently. People for the most part usually extend a modicum of trust with a desire to give more if warranted.