Dude, Where’s my Staff?: Part 2 of infinite! – The Real Story from the Front Lines

Welcome back to the nightmare that is Alberta’s EMS under AHS management. If you’re a manager reading this, you might want to sit down... better yet brace yourself for the tidal wave of truth that’s about to knock over whatever delusional optimism you've been clinging to. This isn’t another press release AHS Comms can brush off with a quick “staffing adjustments” line. No, this is the uncensored reality from the Paramedics you’ve driven out with your toxic culture of fear, bullying and administrative ineptitude. Remember those employees you thought would never leave? Well, spoiler alert: they're gone. And guess what? They’ve got stories to tell—stories that expose just how far your leadership has dragged this profession into the mud. You can keep pretending things are fine, but the ghosts of every good Paramedic who’s walked away from your mess will haunt you from these pages. Unlike your management style, these stories won’t hide behind corporate buzzwords and spin.

Here’s where things get really embarrassing for AHS management—any reputable organization worth its salt conducts Exit Interviews when employees walk away. It’s Management 101: gather feedback, learn where you’re failing, maybe fix the toxic cesspool you’ve created. It’s straight out of a business textbook—exit interviews are invaluable for adjusting corporate culture, identifying leadership gaps and retaining talent. That assumes your leadership actually cares about things like accountability or self-improvement, which, spoiler alert: you don’t. In Calgary Zone alone, since 2020, 371 Paramedics have bailed on their full-time positions. That's right—371. How many exit interviews did you conduct for these valued Human Resources? Did you even bother to ask why they were leaving? Or did you just shrug and think, “What Me Worry?"

Even if by some miracle you did conduct an exit interview, did you heed what they said? Judging by the smouldering wreckage of AHS EMS, it looks like you took that feedback and threw it in the trash along with your credibility. We understand how an exit interview must be uncomfortable for an AHS EMS manager. We picture one of your employees sitting down and telling you exactly what a rotten Supervisor you are and how much they love the job but hate the leadership. We bet half of them are itching to tell you to take that shiny Royal Roads University master’s degree and stick it where the sun don’t shine.

Maybe that’s why you skip the interviews—too scared to face the truth about the toxic mess you perpetuate. So buckle up. Paramedics who’ve quit are about to give AHS EMS leadership a reckoning. AHS EMS may not encourage exit interviews but we do! For the managers peeking in—this one’s for you. Consider this the prequel to your own exit interview.

By the way! we're getting so much interest in people wanting to submit, and so many submissions that we’re turning this into a regular series over at www.wheresmyambulance.com. If you want to help keep this going and support our mission, head over to our GiveSendGo at https://www.givesendgo.com/GC4M8 and chip in we got two new posts in the pipeline with a third for North Zone after that.

This Paramedic quit with the click of a button. leaving Canmore for the Yukon and homemade sourdough.

After over 25 years in EMS, 13 with AHS, I left. Even though I spent the last few years working in Canmore (once considered one of the plum assignments), it was no longer worthwhile. I dropped to casual and took a full-time position in the Yukon. When I realized I couldn't face doing another year of "training days," smashing my head against the wall, doing the same boring training year after year, I quit altogether. Super handy that you can quit online. So convenient! The bizarre sensation of lightness and peace after I hit the "I quit" button was wonderful. The Yukon isn't perfect—no organization is—but my God, it's so much better in every respect. I'm also getting pretty good at making sourdough bread.

This Paramedic spent three years working "full-time" as a casual for AHS, but never met a single supervisor that was theirs and had to fight for basic support.

I worked first third-party as a PCP, then as an ACP for AHS for the last three years in Calgary as a casual. Even as a casual, I never had any intention of taking a full-time spot, even though I worked an average of 16 shifts a month, and it was essentially my full-time job. Recently, I stepped down to just keeping my minimum of 3 shifts a month after three years of working "full-time" as a casual.

I’ve taken another full-time ACP job elsewhere, and after only working 2 months at my new job, I’ve been blown away by the difference in how I’ve been treated. I was so used to AHS that having a company do little things like pay my yearly licensing fees, cover my ACLS/PALS/NRP renewal, and offer to pay for any work-related course I wanted to take absolutely floored me. At my new job, after difficult calls, supervisors actually check up on me and give me paid time off to recover. In contrast, at AHS, no one would check in on me. I had to track down a supervisor myself after a particularly tough call, only to have my request for the rest of the shift off result in my hours being docked to the minute. After that, I never asked for time off again, knowing I wouldn’t get paid.

I’d been a casual with AHS for 3 years, working usually 4 shifts a week, but there wasn't a supervisor at AHS who even knew my name. I’d never met or talked to my supervisor, not even over the phone. I was on the fence about making the switch, but after seeing the night-and-day difference in how you should be treated, I’m never coming back to AHS.

Exhausted from endless shifts, Red Alerts and management’s indifference, they knew walking away was the only way to breathe again.

I quit because the job started to take a toll on my health. After five years as a Primary Care Paramedic and eight as an Advanced Care Paramedic, I found myself overwhelmed in a system that felt broken beyond repair.

The relentless shifts kept me away from holidays and family, and I often felt “pummelled for 12 hours.” My hopes for change faded after transferring from Edmonton to Calgary. Instead of relief, I encountered the same exhausting pace and minimal support. Long hallway waits to hand over patients became a frustrating norm, with no breaks between calls. “Breaks would have been career-extending,” but management seemed indifferent to our struggles.

The indifference and toxicity from leadership was disheartening. They oversaw a system stretched to its limits, allowing Red Alerts to become routine while hundreds of positions remained vacant. The lack of effective mental health resources often arrived too late for many of us.

In the end, I realized I couldn’t breathe under the pressure any longer. I had to prioritize my mental well-being, even if it meant walking away. My story is just one of many, highlighting the urgent need for real change in EMS, starting with those at the top.

After years of dragging a radio through AHS’s 96-hour shift madness in Hanna, this Paramedic said 'Enough!' and quit just in time to dodge COVID chaos.

"I was a PCP working full-time out in Hanna, AB. Not the most remote station, but far enough that we weren’t regularly flexed to urban centres—except when we’d drop off an IFT patient and get stuck in Red Deer. The shift pattern was the infamous 96-hour core-flex-on-call. The only upside? Free accommodations for out-of-town Paramedics. I lived in Hanna, so I could at least respond from home.

I came into EMS as a second career, and AHS only got us on the pension plan after 2012. I knew I’d never hit the 85 factor, but I planned to work until 60. That didn’t happen. At 57, I retired. My reasons? Family matters were one factor. But the real culprits were fatigue, lugging that radio half my life, and a worthless fatigue policy that didn’t account for no sleep unless you hit the hour limit for mandatory shutdowns.

The silver lining? I retired two weeks before COVID-19 hit. Dodged a bullet there.

I miss parts of the job—especially my fantastic work partner—but the lack of sleep, erratic schedule, and caregiver stress took a toll on my health. It took me six months to get my sleep cycle back to normal. I’m over 60 now, and I have no regrets about leaving early, even with a smaller pension.

After enough of AHS’s hiring nonsense & union bureaucracy, another great Paramedic joined the Fire Department.

"Back in early 2020—right before COVID hit—I requested a reduction from 1.0 FTE to 0.5. My supervisor responded that FTE reductions were suspended as a cost-cutting measure, and my request was denied. So, I informed them I’d be dropping to casual in two weeks. Their shock was predictable—it’s what happens when you ignore reasonable requests.

I also took it up the union chain, but months later, they came back with, “Well, you’re casual now, so there’s nothing we can do.” I wasn’t surprised. HSAA has always been employer-friendly and unhelpful. I didn’t expect them to act, but I wanted them to know AHS was violating the collective agreement.

In the end, I’m glad I made the change. I’m now a full-time Firefighter, just keeping very casual with AHS. For reference, I’ve been in EMS since 2003."

This Paramedic was done sacrificing their sanity for a system that’s forgotten its own.

After 15 years on the front lines, I had enough and decided it was time to leave my full-time role in EMS and switch to casual shifts. I’d lost respect for most of our supervisors. Many of them came from my generation, and even back then, they were poor medics—disrespectful to patients, partners, and coworkers alike. They only moved into supervisor roles to make their lives easier, bringing the same bad attitudes and no real leadership.

The last few years have been the worst I’ve seen in EMS. Since 2017, we’ve faced endless red alerts, where one or two ambulances are left covering the entire city. We’ve been ping-ponged across town, clocking forced overtime, all because we don’t have enough trucks or staff. It’s so bad we had to form a committee just to ensure we could get off work on time, as if that wasn’t common sense.

Lastly, our mental health is neglected to the point of harm. Asking for a cooldown after a brutal call is seen as weakness, and supervisors are quick to judge you for it. There’s no real mental health support—just burnt-out Paramedics or, even worse, “mental health” managers with no credibility other than talking a big game about how they’re very passionate about it.

This system has drained every ounce of energy and respect I once had for it. I’m choosing to go casual, not because I want to leave EMS, but because I have to protect my sanity in a job that’s forgotten how to care for its own.

When This Paramedic Found That Experience Means Nothing & AHS EMS HR Proves as Incompetent as Leadership

I spent a few years as a clinical supervisor. I gave everything to that team. I was the most experienced, the most educated, and I’d been leading it through supervisor after supervisor. When my own position opened up, I didn’t even get an interview. They hired someone who’d been an assistant for six months, and then forced me to train my new supervisor.

When I filed a grievance, Mr. Calder’s response to me was, “We can hire whoever we want. Your 17 years as a leader in EMS, the fact it’s your team, and your master’s degree does not mean anything.” The HR rep just sat there and told me to “show respect” when I couldn’t help but laugh.

Not that this response surprised me by that point. When I tried to bring up the misogynistic and biased remarks made during the hiring process, Calder and Swanson buried it quickly, brushing it off with, “He didn’t mean it.” They definitely didn’t appreciate the fact that I had FOIP’d the hiring process.

Later, I applied to clinical analyst jobs with AHS EMS and MFR, but again, no interviews, no response. When I asked my supervisor if it was “me,” she just said my outspoken support for rural crews didn’t fit with the Calgary boys. I found myself isolated, staring at a glass ceiling.

Looking back, maybe this was a blessing in disguise. I feel for my team that I built, though. They flourished under my leadership. We had the lowest book-off rate, nobody had to go over my head to get support, and people from other teams actually asked to join ours. After I resigned, the team pretty much disbanded. Book-offs increased, morale dropped. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was my leaving, but I’ll never know.

Needless to say, my experience, education, and performance are actually valued in the fire service.

This paramedic once saw AHS as the Promised Land; however, once he arrived he learnt that AHS EMS had become a Wasteland of Mismanagement

I’ve worked as a PCP for both AHS EMS and BCEHS, and the differences between the two systems are glaring. When I first joined AHS, I couldn’t believe how toxic the environment was compared to what I’d heard about BC. In BC, they paid their employees better, supported ALS resources, and made real strides to improve service. Meanwhile, AHS was blaming employees for the system's failures during a global pandemic, offering no real support, and continuously failing to address the growing issues.

AHS loves to boast about its achievements, but when you're on the ground, it’s a different story. From skewed statistics to mismanagement, everything seems designed to paint a picture of success that’s far from reality. I’ve had countless experiences where management completely disregarded our needs or pushed the blame onto employees, from 45-minute offload delays to being micro-managed about every little detail of our job. There's no respect, no empathy—just a system that forces us to push through without the support we need.

In contrast, BCEHS recognizes the importance of taking care of their employees. They provide breaks, allow time for debriefs, and offer better pay and benefits, knowing that healthy employees are more likely to stay and perform well. AHS, on the other hand, spends resources on supervisors patrolling hospitals, policing trivial things like uniforms and time spent in the ER, instead of addressing the actual staffing shortages that leave our teams stretched thin.

With the way things are going at AHS, it’s no wonder so many of us are looking elsewhere. Why would anyone want to stay in a system that doesn’t care about its employees, when BC offers the same job with respect and support? For me, it’s clear—BCEHS treats me like a person, not a cog in the machine.

Here's the point: if any reputable organization was accountable for this mess, you’d all be cleaning out your desks. These last few years in Alberta EMS haven’t just been rough—they’ve been a masterclass in how not to manage people. From RED ALERTS you desguise and sweep under the rug with endless ping-ponging of Ambulances across the Zone, this entire operation is hanging by a thread. Letting good employees burn out, break down and walk out the door makes no sense.

You’ve ignored every CAUTION sign on the road to ruining EMS. There were valid reasons for very resignation. Every suggestion and honest piece of feedback from the people keeping this system on life support was treated like a threat to your survival. Maybe that's the real reason. While exit interviews might have helped you get to the root of the issues, that would have exposed the lies you tell every day to keep Alberta EMS in one piece. Anything that rocked the boat, especially caring about your staff expose you. So you continue to dodge accountability, bury data, and avoid the truth, hoping to keep prying eyes away until you retire.

Alberta EMS isn’t failing by accident. It’s a direct result of management decisions that prioritize power struggles, like the one we're seeing right now over patient care, and optics over outcomes. We’d say, “it’s time to listen,” but at this point, we all know you’re not interested in hearing the truth. Thats why it's so easy to get to the bottom of the issues here at AHS EMS, the issues are you the 'leaders'. So here it is: Paramedics are going to tell their stories loud and clear. There’s no spinning of 'staffing adjustments' or 'resource reallocations', just a big ol' dose of the toxic culture you've created.

As for the Paramedics, they’ll keep doing their jobs—forcing them to do it based on your current priorities won't end well. Question is, how long until they all wobble, crash or leave? The resignations are piling up and you're willfully blind to the fact that this is the culture YOU CREATED. As for the stories presented here, consider this their collective, unofficial exit interview. 

As we wrap up this installment, it’s clear that this toxic culture at AHS EMS isn’t just a one-time occurrence—it’s a pattern of neglect, mismanagement, and indifference that has destroyed lives and careers. And to AHS management, if you’re reading this, don’t get too comfortable just yet. This is only the beginning of our relentless reminders of how your failures have left paramedics reeling.

We realized pretty quickly that this couldn’t be a “Part Two of Two.” No, we’ll be dropping these continuations every few months to ensure you can’t escape the truth. It’s not just a reminder—it’s a reckoning. A reckoning that will keep showing up on your desk until you’re finally held accountable for the damage you’ve done.

In the meantime, if you want to see more of these stories, or help keep the spotlight on AHS EMS’s failures, support our mission at GiveSendGo. Your support allows us to keep pushing back against the incompetence and negligence that has plagued Alberta’s EMS system. Stay tuned for future updates—we’re just getting started.