10-4 Good Buddy
Breaker, breaker! This means, “Stop talking and listen to me!” Sadly, it doesn’t work in real life. It only works on the radio. Not the Donna Sommer “On the Radio” kind of radio, but the CB and police band kind of radio. If someone is reading the letter you wrote them on this radio, you’re probably in some kind of legal trouble, especially if you’re a 10-96 (escaped mental patient...which would explain why you’re wandering around in that old brown overcoat).

“10 Codes” were created to make radio communication clear, concise, and universal. Instead of saying, “Hey Cletus, where you at?” you can say, “Hey Cletus, what’s your 10-20?” See how much clearer and more concise that was? And universal, too, because people who may not understand the query “where you at” know that a 10-20 means “state your present location.” Almost everyone knows that 10-4 means “Affirmative, I heard you.” Like the word Aloha, 10-4 is a kind of Hello and Good bye. Want someone to give you a ring on the telephone? Ask them for a 10-21. Want to know the weather? Ask for a 10-13. You’re not drunk; you’re a 10-56 (intoxicated pedestrian). Having a fight with your wife? You, my friend, have a 10-16 (domestic problem).

Using code results clear, concise conversations that go along these lines:

“Cletus, what’s your 10-20?”
“10-56 at Hooters Boob-A-Rama.”
“Your wife wants a 10-21.”
“Uh oh. I’ve got a 10-16.”
“10-4.”

Who invented 10 Code, and exactly how universal it is, is a matter of some debate. 10 Code goes from 10-1 (I can’t hear you, your transmission sucks) to 10-99. 10-99 either indicates a vehicle is wanted or stolen, or that the case has been closed and all units are going out for beers. Code 10-100 (need to go to the bathroom) is unofficial. But 99 10 Codes, it turns out, simply wasn’t enough. There were codes for “I will give you a radio check” (10-32) and the correct time (10-36), but there weren’t any to report fires, suicide attempts, or to call for an ambulance. Thus, 11 Code was born. 11 Code also goes up to 11-99 (officer needs help-urgent). I’ve never seen a 12 Code, nor do I wish to.

The radio in our dispatch room is about three times the size of our computer’s monitor. It has lots of buttons, switches, dials, and blinking lights. A microphone sticks out of the front of it on one of those bendy metal arms. Since I’m usually just a stand-in for the usual dispatcher, I’ve been coping with radio transmissions by ignoring them. I don’t care what anyone’s 10-20 is, since I usually have no idea who they are or why they want me to know. What am I, their mommy? Just shut up and go uphold the peace somewhere, would you?

I’m usually on the phone and miss the transmission anyway. The radio will squawk and squeal as someone, somewhere, prattles on about something. The entire room then fills with tense silence. You can feel them out there, waiting for a response. “LS 612, please respond,” they say. It was weeks before I knew that LS 612 was me. I’ll sit motionless in my chair, hoping that they won’t detect me and will go away. “Ls 612,” they say again. “Please respond.” When backed into a corner this way, I will hit the transmit button and say, “10-4?” That usually shuts them up, but it also gives the false impression that I know what’s going on. I don’t want them to think help is on the way, when in reality, I’m going down to the vending machines for another Snickers.

For the past week, though, Rhonda has been out of the office. I’ve been the dispatcher all day, every day, and I’ve been told that simply ignoring the radio won’t work this time, nosiree Bob. Instead of being trained in proper radio usage and jargon, a few blurry photocopies defining 10 Codes were dropped in my lap. Once again, I was being called upon to wing it (also known as “on the job training”).

Within minutes, the radio was talking to me.

“LS 60, LS 612.”

LS 612, I knew, was me. But who the dickens was LS 60? I cracked open a binder that listed out field officers by badge number. We had a #60, but was he LS 60?

“LS 612,” I said, pressing the shiny red transmit button. “Um...go ahead LS 60.”

“10-7.”

Interesting...but what did it mean? I shuffled through my photocopies and found that, inexplicably, the 10 Codes where not listed sequentially. Of course they weren’t. When you work for a government agency, you get used to things like that. 10-7, 10-7, where was 10-7? I was beginning to feel like a tourist with an incomplete phrase book.

“LS 612, please respond.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, still searching. “Keep your shirt on.” Not only wasn’t I finding 10-7, but I wasn’t seeing a code for “Hang on, I’m looking that up.”

“LS 612, please respond.”

Was there a code for “Go [expletive deleted] yourself?” I wasn’t seeing that either. Just what kind of emergency was LS 60 having?

And then I found it. 10-7, Out Of Service. Next to it, someone had handwritten in parenthesis, OUT TO LUNCH.

“10-4,” I said into the radio.

Out to lunch, indeed. “Quite an emergency you got there, Jack,” I said to the radio, without, of course, pressing the transmit button. “Enjoy your Whopper.”

As the week went on, I found myself in any number of situations where my ability to communicate concisely and effectively was thwarted by a lack of appropriate code. Knowing that 12 Codes were free (to my knowledge anyway) I set about making my own set of dispatcher friendly codes:

12-01 Dispatch is confused, say it in plain English
12-02 Dispatch has a mouthful of donut- stand by
12-03 Dispatch has almost solved “word jumble”-stand by
12-04 Dispatch horoscope unfavorable, hiding under desk
12-05 Dispatch missed first part of transmission
12-06 Dispatch missed second part of transmission
12-07 Dispatch missed the whole transmission
12-08 Dispatch was talking to Sandy from across the hall-repeat transmission
12-09 What?
12-10 What?
12-11 Dispatch is in over his head and signing off, you’re on your own
12-12 Dispatch does not, for the last time, know where Ahwatukee is
12-13 Who is this?
12-14 What are you wearing?
12-15 Sounds sexy
12-16 Sorry, not my type
12-17 Dispatch wondering what life is all about, please respond
12-18 Dispatch out of cigarettes, anyone’s 10-20 by a Circle K?
12-19 Dispatch shoes too tight, emergency response
12-20 Dispatch free for dinner tonight-hint, hint
12-21 Dispatch out to lunch
12-22 Dispatch back from lunch
12-23 Dispatch assures you he was only gone an hour
12-24 Dispatch does not like your tone
12-25 Dispatch has not heard the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the stripper
12-26 Dispatch has heard the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the stripper
12-27 Dispatch is tired and cranky, this had better be important
12-28 Go [expletive deleted] yourself
12-29 Dispatch checking personal emails-stand by
12-30 Dispatch answering personal emails-stand by
12-31 Dispatcher making notes for blog-stand by

I’m sure I’ll think of more as time goes by, but these would definitely make my life as dispatcher a heck of a lot easier. Now, though, I’m 10-7. I’ve got a 10-100. Do not stand by.