[Originally published in the May/June 2026 issue of PSC magazine]
When most of the world sleeps, overnight telecommunicators make critical decisions with fewer resources, less visibility and little recognition for the unique challenges they face.
By Keely Heyman
There is a version of the world that exists while most people sleep. It is quieter, dimmer and stripped of spectacle. The hallways are empty. The administrative offices are dark. The people who usually guide or override decisions aren’t there to turn to. In their absence, the decisions fall to the night shift — made in real time, without the chance to run them by someone. Morning may bring follow-up, but the night carries the weight.
For those working overnight in emergency communications centers (ECCs), the night shift is not simply a different schedule — it is a fundamentally different experience. It’s one that few outside the room ever fully see. At night, the decisions fall squarely on the people in the chairs.
In smaller agencies, that might mean one telecommunicator holding the entire operation together — phones, radios and sometimes a prisoner in the holding cell — alone for hours at a time. Even basic human needs like getting coffee or using the restroom require planning and coordination, because someone must always be listening.
In larger centers, nights are staffed with skeleton crews — not because the work disappears, but because the volume changes. Fewer calls, yes. But the intensity rises. There is no margin for complacency when there are fewer hands and fewer voices in the room.
THE WITCHING HOUR
Every night shifter knows it: the stretch between 1 and 2 a.m. Bars close. The world exhales and falls asleep. Television programming fades into infomercials. Fatigue and limited structure can make internet scrolling especially unproductive if it goes on too long.
This is the hour where telecommunicators fight sleep not with caffeine alone, but with creativity — crocheting, coloring books, dog-eared paperbacks, small crafts quietly worked between radio traffic.
It is not boredom. It is vigilance. Because when the 9-1-1 phone rings at night, it is rarely for nothing. During the day, calls can span the full spectrum — from the truly urgent to the painfully mundane. At night, the tone shifts. The calls lean serious. The problems are heavier. The need is clearer. Administrative lines fall silent because courts are closed and offices are empty — but if those lines do ring, it is almost always because someone needs something.
Alarm calls still come, of course. Sometimes it’s a mouse triggering motion sensors in a closed business. Sometimes it’s not. And as every night shifter knows, the old saying tends to hold true: nothing good happens after dark.
A QUIET CAMARADERIE
There is a strange, unspoken bond among those who work nights.
While the rest of the world sleeps, night shifters are engaged in a kind of mental gymnastics — fighting sleep demons, staying sharp, staying present. Radios may go quiet for long stretches, then erupt with urgency. Traffic stops that might have ended in warnings during daylight hours often end differently at night. Then silence again. It is lonely — but not empty.
THE COST OF LIVING BACKWARD
Sleep on the night shift is never simple. It depends on what the rest of the living world demands of you during the day. Doctor’s appointments. School events. Birthday parties. Holiday barbecues scheduled squarely in the middle of your sleep window, because few people think to plan around a schedule they cannot see.
So you drag yourself into daylight, halfjoking that the sun might cause you to burst into flames. You adapt. You compromise. And over time, many night shifters find themselves running on caffeine, habit and sheer willpower.
Some people adjust. Some even thrive in the darkness — less scrutiny, fewer distractions, a clearer sense of purpose when the calls are fewer but more meaningful. Others find the toll accumulates quietly, shaped by sleep disruption, isolation and the challenge of living out of sync with the rest of the world. Neither experience is wrong. Both deserve acknowledgment.
SEEING THE NIGHT SHIFT
This article is not a call to eliminate night shifts, nor is it an argument that one shift is harder than another. It is a reminder — to leaders, peers and the industry at large — that the night shift is different, and those differences matter.
Night shifters carry autonomy, responsibility and emotional weight in ways that often go unseen. They deserve policies, wellness strategies and leadership awareness that reflect the reality of their work — not a one-size-fits-all approach built for daylight hours.
For those currently working nights, the call to action is quieter, but no less important: take care of yourself in ways that honor the life you are actually living.
That might mean resisting the pressure to flip back to a daytime schedule on days off if it is costing you sleep and health. After two years on nights, I learned that aligning my off-days with my work schedule — while
imperfect — was healthier than constant adjustment. That choice won’t work for everyone, but the principle matters: sustainability over expectation.
Healthy meals planned around overnight hours. Movement that fits your energy, not someone else’s routine. Hobbies that engage your mind without exhausting it. Small, intentional choices that make the night shift survivable — and sometimes even meaningful.
Because while the world sleeps, someone must stay awake. And those who do should know: you are seen.
Keely Heyman, CPE, ENP, has dedicated over 25 years to the 9-1-1 industry, serving as a Public Safety Telecommunicator, EMT and Executive Director. Now retired, she channels her expertise into consulting, where she helps bridge the gap between private and public sectors
Ghosts Who Walk the Night Shift
Members and PSC magazine subscribers can read this sidebar from veteran telecommunicator CJ Nash, who shares lessons from decades working midnights — from staying awake on slow nights to building trust with officers. Access the digital edition.
