Colton Hibbert

I still remember my first week helping a facilities manager at a busy warehouse. A forklift clipped a rack, a pallet shifted, and someone reached for an extinguisher that had quietly slipped past its monthly check. The tag told the story: missed initials, dust on the gauge, and a needle

A facilities tech once described his turning point this way: for years, he walked past the same wall-mounted ABC unit, gave the gauge a quick tap, and moved on. After proper training, everything looked different. Nameplates told him which hazards were covered, gauges had a precise meaning, and every missing

I still remember a monthly safety walk at a distribution center where I consulted. Pallets were stacked neatly, and aisles looked clear, yet half the extinguisher tags told a different story. A seasonal display blocked one unit, another had a wavering gauge, and a CO₂ extinguisher was six pounds underweight.

I learned the value of solid training on a windy Tuesday in a loading bay. A forklift operator pointed to an extinguisher with the gauge in the red and a tag that had not been signed in months. There was no fire and no headline, just a quiet miss that

I still remember shadowing a new maintenance technician on his first monthly rounds. He had his tag punch, a pen behind his ear, and a route scribbled on a sticky note. Ten minutes in, we reached a busy corridor where stacked boxes blocked two extinguishers. He hesitated, unsure whether to

I still remember an early Monday when a hotel chief engineer called before sunrise. A guest had pulled an extinguisher off the wall, and the night auditor noticed the pressure needle sitting low. No one could find the last monthly tag. That week, we transitioned the team into a self-paced Fire Extinguisher