Now I'm feeling madder than yesterday. They aren't going to call me back. I'm in some kind of No Fly database that I can never know about or escape from. Once when I left one job for a better one, the owner of the old company called the manager of the new company to say that I was a terrible pilot and a non-trustworthy employee. Fortunately the new boss already knew me, so realized that the last desperate ploy to stop me getting the new job was actually a compliment about my value as a pilot. Sometimes I picture a vast conspiracy wherein that boss has made it his life's work to sabotage my career, finding out wherever I try to go and poisoning them against me. Hey, some of you thought it was paranoia last week when I had the premonition this job was going to fall apart.
But for now, I'm just fed up. I hate airplanes. They're stupid. I'm going to go buy some chickens and look feed them and collect the eggs. No, I'm going to rent an incubator and buy some fertilized eggs and hatch my own chickens so they imprint on me and I can raise them and train them to fetch, or cluck on command, or not to drown in the rain, or whatever the pinnacle of chicken learning is. And then I'll collect the eggs, and then when the chickens stop laying eggs I will tell them that I have rescinded their job offer, and I will eat them. And yay for the circle of life.
I found a big pile of partially completed to do lists today; I never throw out uncompleted to do lists, it seems, just abandon them half done. And they all seem to have the same things undone, things that always need doing even though I do them fairly often, things that come around again and again. I'm going to do them all. I'm going to go through all my lists and do them until they are done once and for all, and not have any fun because I don't deserve any. Except that feeding my chickens might be fun. I'll let you know.
I turn on my computer to find out where to buy chickens and somehow end up on an aviation job site. I haven't checked it for a week, on account of thinking I had a job. "Hmm, this job looks good." I could raise chickens there instead of here. I start to compose an e-mail to the chief pilot, when the phone rings. It's an ex-chief pilot, in town flying a medevac to here. I go out to dinner with the crew, good to catch up. One of the flight medics observes, "I never knew before this job how difficult it was to be a pilot." I thought she was talking about physical tasks like loading, de-icing, or the hours, but she continues to say, "You can't just decide where you want to work, apply and get a job. You have to work really hard to find a job, and go wherever that job is." She gets it. And it's not just me. It's the industry. I come home and finish the e-mail. And send another to another company. And make a list of more people to contact. Life goes on.
I hate airplanes. At least when chickens shit on you, you can use it to fertilize the garden. I think the worst part is that I know every fricking circuit breaker on this airplane I'll probably never fly. All those brain cells faithfully holding information that I may never use. Who wants me to finish telling you all about the airplane for which I received free groundschool and training manuals, and who wants to skip it and learn about chickens?
I wanted to vote "chicken", but then I'd be reading Henhouse Conversations.
Instead, I'll hope for an update on the 2011 Resolutions List or some uncovered Cambodia coverage until we can see the "YaY, I have a new job" post (which will come).
I vote summer road trip across the United States. I'll happily provide ground transportation from the Rocky Mountains to the Great Lakes.
On another note, how much would it cost to charter a plane in the other direction?
What ever you decide to write about, I'm sure it will be a fabulous read.
Whatever you choose to write about you'll remain part of my news feed. Your posts have always been well written and very interesting aviation related or not. I don't comment often because I get your posts through my RSS reader, but just wanted to let you know I love your blog.
This is one of the best things you've written. It has passion and verve (and chickens). Well done.
I too read from a feed and rarely comment but I do want to encourage you to write with more such turbulence (and chickens)
One of the first rules of winning the lottery is "Buy a ticket".
Same approach for eating chickens, buying cow parts, laying bricks, and getting pilot jobs.
We were all looking forward to hearing all about the screaming whippet, so please do share those you've written. Then the chickens.
On a side note, every time you post a variation of "firetruck, no job for now" I entertain a fantasy of hiring you to teach me to fly, since you're clearly an excellent teacher (you want to understand things deeply, and communicate them well). Then I remember I'm a broke student, so after I paid you a fair rate all I could afford to rent would be a toy airplane powered by a rubber band. And that since you delay your posts, you're probably already employed with a real job.
Here's to hoping the last part is true, and if not, I vote get a dog, or something else cuddly that you can find a new home for when you get hired by Air Canada.
I'll echo nec Timide and say that even if you post in detail about how you used those bricks in your garden, it will be entertaining and worth the read!
I know you looked into a few years back, but have you considered coming south? The regionals have been hiring, and it looks like the trend may accelerate. There's a big surge coming, just no telling exactly when...
And, a bit like TgarnderH, I am hoping that with all the "congratulations" comments posts to your 'Holding Patterns' post mean they are 'in the know.' I thought I'd picked up in the message about being in a hold. To me, a hold is never a good thing. But perhaps, you meant 'going back to the beginning' and there's a job hint there to those that know you IRL.
Either way, keep at it. In the words of Heinlein's Lazarus Long: "Of course the game is rigged! But, you can't win if you don't play!"
The crucial thing to consider is this: two years from now, when this period of insecurity and doubt is all over, you'll be back on your feet again, and earning a living doing something. here's the important question .... 'can you see yourself doing something else then? or will you be flying?'
If you can't see yourself doing anything but flying, then that tells you that you need to stay focussed on finding a flying opportunity. Every one of these setbacks, is only that - a setback - and you need to stand up again, get focussed once more, and keep pressing on till you find your new role. It's there for you somewhere. You just have to find it.
If you CAN see yourself doing something else, then maybe your time has come to hang up the wings, as it does for all flyers eventually. Just a bit earlier than you'd planned.
Most importantly, you need to dismiss those fools with the whippet who couldn't see a solid gold pilot when you stood in front of them. They're dopes and ought to be flogged for allowing you to walk out the door.
Incidentally you might be mildly amused that here in Australia, those birds you're writing about are called 'chooks' here (rhymes with 'books'). A much more amusing and onomatopeic word than 'chickens'.
You've got groundschool in the whippet. Who else flies whippets? Find out, send them some of your posts, say "see I already know this bird, let me fly it."
This is probably a crazy suggestion but...since you now have current knowledge on the Whippet, would it make any sense to figure out a place to find the money and then pay for a type rating in the airplane?
Would getting typed make you enough more valuable to operators of the airplane to get you in the door? If it worked would the ROI/payback period make any sense?
Also, are you constrained to working in Canada, or are you doing a global search?
No artificial boundaries, eh?
but i hope yours are free-run and ethically raised or whatever because my uncle has one of those chickens are in cages the size of themselves and they lay eggs on a convayer belt and it's gross and the chickens dont look happy.
ok - you've had your rant - now get over it. you're entitled to one day of ranting, after that - you're just feeling sorry for yourself. If you were in an a/c and something went wrong you wouldn't just throw up your hands and rant - you'd follow the checklist and get things back on track. Ok Lady A - time to set up your life checklist and get on with it. besides, chickens are noisy and can't fly.
Just in case you're not sure, this is posted with affection.
You wouldn't eat your own chickens. Henwives are hard-boiled but when it's casserole time they swap birds and eat each others.
Apply for some more jobs and keep us posted.
I hear you and noted. This is not one of your better posts. Really nasty stuff happens, to all of us, at least once in a while. If you really want to fly, get over it quickly, hitch up the pantyhose, (That's like pulling up your shorts or getting a tighter jock-strap for a guy pilot. As a non-female, I don't really know what part of the costume needs an adjustmet, but something sure does!, and find the next opportunity. If you are a CFI, use the skills to build more hours, of course. Teach good flying, but please leave the bruises and the understandable anger in the ground. We care!
Aviatrix is entirely justified in ranting a little. This must have been an incredibly frustrating experience:
when the chickens stop laying eggs I will tell them that I have rescinded their job offer, and I will eat them.
Hahahaha! Sense of (dark) humor entirely intact I'm glad to see.
Here's hoping things are looking up again, with a few weeks since the events.
Sarah hit it right on the nose when she wrote about the importance of keeping your sense of humor intact, dark or otherwise. So long as you can keep laughing at the ridiculous situations you face in life, you'll be OK. Really.
I hate airplanes. They're stupid.
Well, yeah, airplanes *are* stupid. So is any other endeavor worth pursuing, if you really think about it. Lick your wounds, grovel and rant, then move on. And don't stop writing your blog!
By the way, chickens are cool. They're about as stupid as airplanes, but raising them is a worthwhile experience. That is, if you have time for chickens before you have to start working at your next job. :)
And I hate Blogger comment boxes. They make me claustrophobic because I forget (until just now) that they can be stretched. Nevertheless, I shall persist - despite losing my entire entry during the preview mode... grrrr... Okay -- here goes, again:
Re: "...whatever the pinnacle of chicken learning is..."
I once saw a short film called Just Call Me Chicken, that forever changed my view of these birds.
We humans tend to drastically underestimate animal intelligence, compassion, and courage - it's easier to slaughter and eat them that way...
I figure most birds look at our clumsy attempts to fly, and pity us, thinking "Those poor blundering idiots. If they were only smarter (in bird-smarts) we could teach them so much..."
Well, you have brain cells dedicated to the screaming whippet's cross-balance vermiform flux inhibitors or whatever, but many of us have as many or more brain cells dedicated to the layot of videogame world landscpes or rap music lyrics. Which is better??
@Aluwings, I totally agree with misunderestimating animals. They may not all have language, but there's "someone home" in all higher animals.
But birds are weird. I live next door to chickens, and that fixed but jumping stare is unnerving. You get the impression they see the world as a series of still images.
My current favorite eagle photo: Telegraph picture of the day 7 March 2011.
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