By Bill Adams
I fought off the fear of catching some yet-to-be-discovered COVID-19 variant and ventured outside to secure a loan to purchase gasoline so I could drive over to the fire station for morning coffee. Raisin Squad attendance was way down. There’s not too many of us left. We lost a few to the pandemic and some are just too old to balance themselves on the stools in the kitchen. There are no backs on them, so seat belts are not an option.
Anyhow, we started jawboning (passing judgement) about the upcoming tradeshow season. One geezer who regularly attended them in the past asked if I expected to see one of our old friends who worked for the “whatever” fire apparatus company. (Names are omitted to protect the innocent and some of the guilty.) I didn’t think so because he had left that company and was working for another. Then he asked about some of the dealers we know; I said one was let go by the manufacturer he represented and I thought another one switched manufacturers on his own, so I didn’t know if they’d be there either. And another dealer just got old and retired. We discussed how the fire truck business is changing. One astute white hair summed it up: “Yep – it’s like musical chairs; when the music stops the dealers hope to find an open seat next to any manufacturer.” That was observant.
A couple days later I was still reminiscing about the “good ole days” at the shows. Do you remember when salesmen (my gender-neutral term) wore suits or jackets and ties? Informality is the new dress code. It appears each manufacturer requires its representatives to wear the same color polo shirt. Walking into an exhibit hall is like walking into the local bowling alley on league night. The faces are the same; it’s the color of the shirt that changes.
At one time you could have a serious conversation with a vendor. Now, they’re continuously looking at their cellphones. Some start texting—obviously to people more important than you. How about the vendor that keeps tapping that miniature phone thingy, blue something, or whatever the heck they call it that sticks in the ear? Those things get more attention than potential customers. That’s rude and unprofessional. Multi-tasking? They can multi-task my rear end. If I had a blank check and was looking to buy a fire truck, I’d just walk away and look for another manufacturer. You have to wonder how they’ll treat you after the sale.
There are subtle changes in the fire truck corporate world. Think back at how apparatus manufacturers’ websites used to be. Most had the names of the hierarchy that worked for the company—from the president down to the regional sales managers. Often they’d list their phone numbers and later their email addresses. You hardly see that anymore. Perhaps employment longevity is a thing of the past. Maybe they play musical chairs, too. There’re some exceptions, mostly smaller family owned and operated manufacturers. Those people are proud; some even put their employees’ photographs on their websites.
In speaking of not much time left, no Cantankerous Wisdom would be complete without an inference to “I told you so.” The new NFPA 1900 standard replacing the existing National Fire Protection Association NFPA 1901 Standard for Automotive Fire Apparatus is supposed to be out in 2024. I don’t know when in 2024, nor do I know its effective date. And I don’t know when the “approved” wording will be available for public viewing.
Whenever it does, the apparatus and ancillary equipment manufacturers, apparatus dealers, specification writers, and fire departments that write their own specs better stand by. Why? Wherever their pre