Frontline Series - “There’s been an emergency. We need to call his wife! What’s her number?”

Can Someone Please Call My Wife?

From the Frontline Series — Written by a Crew Member Who Got Hurt Badly

We talk a lot about safety.

We do the toolbox talks.

We wear the high-vis vests.

We check the tires.

We mark the utilities.

But the day the machine rolled, none of that helped me make the one call that actually mattered.

It Was a Normal Morning. Until It Wasn’t.

We were clearing a slope. Same job we’ve done a dozen times.

I was on the machine, watching the angle. Had my harness. My boots. My head on straight.

But the ground shifted.

It happened fast.

Too fast.

One second, I’m adjusting the bucket, the next, I’m tumbling.

Metal scraping. Glass breaking.

A sudden, violent silence.

I couldn’t move.

My leg was pinned.

I knew it was bad.

I Asked for One Thing

I heard someone running toward me.

Someone called 911.

I could hear the panic in their voice trying to stay calm, trying to help.

I looked up at my buddy and said the one thing that mattered:

“Please call my wife.”

I whispered it. I begged it.

“Please… I need her to know. Please call my wife.”

I passed out from the pain.

But he didn’t have her number.

No one did.

The office manager? Off today.

My emergency contact form? In a locked cabinet back at the shop.

They think maybe it’s in QuickBooks, but if it is, it’s the old number she had six years ago.

Meanwhile, I’m lying there bleeding.

My phone’s shattered.

My head is ringing.

And I’m slipping in and out of consciousness.

This might be it.

This might be the last morning I ever wake up.

And the only thing I want… is to say goodbye.

I Thought We Cared About Safety

We talk about safety culture like it’s real.

We hang posters and talk about zero incidents.

We make sure our trucks have cones.

We wear safety glasses.

But no one, not a single person, had access to the name or number of the woman I love.

What kind of safety culture is that?

It’s Not About Blame. It’s About Priorities.

This isn’t about shaming my boss.

Or pointing fingers.

Or being dramatic.

It’s about what matters in that moment when everything is on the line.

When your body is broken.

When time is running out.

When your crew is gathered around you, doing their best, and still powerless to make the call you need them to make.

We had the number.

We had the contact.

We had the form.

We just didn’t have it accessible.

CrewHero Fixed That

Now?

Emergency contact info is stored inside CrewHero, and every manager and crew leader can access it from their phone in seconds.

You open the app.

You tap the crew member.

It’s right there:

• Name

• Relationship

• Phone number

• Email if needed

• Notes if they need special care

If I ever get hurt again, they’ll know exactly who to call.

No file cabinets.

No guesswork.

No old spreadsheets.

Just one place. Accessible. Immediately.

Final Thought

I made it through that day.

But it still shakes me.

Not because of the injury.

But because I might’ve died without saying goodbye.

That’s what stuck with me the longest.

If you’re going to talk about safety…

If you’re going to say you care about your crew…

If you’re going to ask us to trust you with our lives out there?

Then make damn sure someone can call the people we love.

CrewHero does.

And that’s not an extra feature, that’s what real safety looks like.

— One of the guys who made it, but never wants another crew to go through that again