Fire Drill

I experienced my first company fire drill last week. That’s right, the same routine we practiced in grade school — except replace the giggling, inattentive, don’t-take-this-seriously kids with giggling, inattentive, don’t-take-this-seriously adults, and you’ll get the picture.

Theoretically, these things should just happen without warning to trigger our adrenalin pumps. How else can the company accurately assess whether employees will depart in an orderly fashion, or ascend the spine of those in front of them in a ladder-like fashion, to reach the designated exit? Unfortunately, a Kalmbach Publishing Co. fire drill apparently happens with as much surprise as a shuttle launch. It’s not the company’s fault. About seven days before the drill, as I learned, maps of both floors showing the proper exits appeared on bulletin boards throughout the building. Senior staffers smiled knowingly at this biannual signal, and one even suggested starting an office pool to guess the date and time. (Ok, that part was me.) On D(rill) Day itself, a Brookfield Fire Department truck appeared inconspicuously in the parking lot about 15 minutes beforehand, visible to all (at least those with windows).

At roughly 2:30, a shrill alarm pierced air and eardrum alike. Fortunately for test purposes, everyone on the staff of Astronomy magazine happened to be congregated in the hall at this time in anticipation. Without missing a conversational beat, we inserted fingers in ears, pivoted en masse, walked to the stairwell and exited to our designated parking lot meeting spot.

Beneath a crisp autumn sky, a breeze rustling the just-starting-to-turn leaves, we continued to laugh and clown around, the serious nature of this drill clearly bouncing off the steel plates in our heads. The photo I took as we anxiously awaited the fire drill all-clear evidences this — in a split second, four of seven editors chose to react in a less-than-serious fashion to my oh-so-serious “Ok, everyone say ‘panic’” directive.

Eventually — once the folks in Offices Services escorted the fire department representatives through the building to check on our response — we reversed the procedure and returned to our offices. Somehow, returning to work quelled the giddiness quotient slightly, though I’m at a loss to explain why. Regardless, I offer a virtual tip of the fire chief’s helmet to Kalmbach — God forbid a real fire ever happens, but I applaud the company for taking that possibility seriously and practicing this stuff. It’s one thing for employees not to take its serious nature to heart, but quite another when an employer blows it off. Which would you rather work for?