Category Archives: Deep Thoughts

I think…therefore I’m dangerous.

One Wrong Way to Look for a Pilot Job

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Be prepared — and then don’t act outraged when you get an unexpected response.

TelephoneYesterday afternoon, I got a call from a number I didn’t know and answered as I usually do: “Flying M, Maria speaking.”

The caller seemed almost surprised that someone had answered the phone. Maybe I’d answered more quickly than he expected. He stumbled over his words a bit and I recall thinking that he might be someone looking for information about a charter flight. Lots of people who call who have no idea how to ask for what they want get off to a rough start.

But no, eventually he asked for “the boss.” Yes. In those words.

“That’s me.” I replied. Now my brain was wondering what he was selling. Anyone who asks for the owner or the person in charge of parts/maintenance/accounts payable/fill-in-the-blank is trying to sell me some product or service I don’t want. My phone is a cell phone and the number is on the FCC’s Do Not Call list, but that apparently doesn’t stop telemarketers from bothering me multiple times a week.

But no, after some more stumbling over words, I learned that he was a pilot looking for a job.

And that’s when I got annoyed. Here’s a guy who can barely communicate what he wants and obviously did no preparation for his call asking me for a pilot job?

I replied that there were no job openings at my company and that even if I had a job to offer, I wouldn’t offer it to him since he obviously couldn’t be bothered to find out who he was calling before he made a call to ask for a job. I told him he needed to work on his technique.

And then I hung up.

After the initial “I can’t believe how inept job seekers are these days” thought, I got back to what I was doing. I had pilot friends coming for dinner and was prepping for their arrival.

This morning, I got an angry email from the person who’d called. Apparently, he was in the U.S. from his home country (which I don’t think I need to share here), had trained in the U.S., and was outraged that I’d been so rude to him. He said:

I was going to let you know that my approach to you asking for a job was not good at all, I just wasn’t prepared before I called and of all the places I call the owner is never taking the phone.

Interesting that he admitted he wasn’t prepared. And odd that I hadn’t noticed his accent, which really comes through in the wording of his written communication.

He went on to say:

My point with this message is that the way you talked to me was just really disrespectfull [sic], rude and unmotivating for a new pilot.

Apparently, he believed that I should drop everything and give him the polite attention he thought he deserved as he interrupted my day to stumble through his job request. A request made without any advance preparation.

Yes, if he’d bothered to do any research at all on my company before calling to ask for a job, he would have learned that the company is a single pilot Part 135 operator with only one helicopter and one pilot. That should have told him how unlikely it was that I’d be hiring. But at the very least, he would have learned my name and could have used that instead of asking for “the boss.”

Or if he’d read the Help Wanted page on my company’s website, which is linked to the Contact page where he may have gotten my phone number and definitely accessed the contact form he used to email me, he would have seen that I was not hiring.

Yes, I was rude. I’ll admit it. (It’s already been established here and elsewhere that I can be a real bitch sometimes.) But when someone acts like an idiot, how should I respond? By gently coddling him so he makes the same mistake again with the next person he bothers?

Don’t you think this guy will think twice before he makes his next call? That maybe — just maybe — he’ll do a little homework first and learn more about the company he’s calling and whether they’re hiring? Or possibly find out who he should be speaking to to ask for a job?

And am I wrong, but do cold calls ever work when looking for a job? Any job?

The other day, I blogged about the importance of networking for career advancement. Networking can help job seekers make valuable contacts they can use when looking for work. It makes time-wasting cold calls unnecessary.

Am I sorry I was so rude to this guy? Maybe a little. He was probably slightly handicapped by a language issue.

But to me, he wasn’t different from any telemarketer who disrupts my day by trying to sell me something I don’t need or want.

And if he thinks I was rude to him, he should hear me when I’m annoyed at one of them.

Two-Language Packaging Done Right

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An example.

I’ve always been interested in marketing. I think it goes back to a marketing course I took in college when I was a freshman. That’s when I began to realize how the choice of words in marketing copy could mislead potential buyers without actually lying. It’s also where I learned how packaging colors and styles could influence purchase decisions. I still think all that is fascinating.

The trick with packaging is providing all the information a potential buyer needs when in a store making a decision. I’ve been buying a lot of items — including small tools — as I continue working on my living space so I find myself relying, over and over, on what’s written on packages to determine which options go into my cart.

I should point out that it’s not only this part of Washington that has a large Spanish-speaking population. It’s any agricultural area in the United States. It’s also many major population areas where hispanic immigrants do the kind of labor Americans simply don’t want to do. While some folks can argue that “Mexicans are taking our jobs,” the truth of the matter is that if immigrant labor disappeared, a lot of jobs would be left unfilled and a lot of work simply wouldn’t be done. (This was the topic of the 2004 movie, A Day Without a Mexican.) I’m not trying to start a political debate on the topic here — I’m simply pointing out my thoughts on the matter based on what I’ve seen over the past few years in the farms and cities of Arizona, California, and Washington.

This area of Washington has a large hispanic population. It’s all because of the agricultural work done here. Let’s face it, Americans don’t want to get their hands dirty planting orchards, running irrigation lines, pruning trees, spraying pesticides, or culling, picking, or sorting fruit. Much of this work is done by migrant farm workers, especially in the busy picking season. But year-round there’s a core hispanic population. These folks live all around us, send their kids to our schools, and shop in our stores. And while most of them have some English-speaking skills — or even speak English fluently — their primary language is Spanish.

A lot of Americans get angry when they see a preponderance of signage and packaging in two languages. Oddly, they seem more angry when the second language is Spanish than if it’s French, but this post isn’t about the politics behind their anger. It’s about finding a compromise that provides the necessary information in both languages without putting the second language in your face.

And that’s where I think this product’s packaging succeeds.

English Packaging
The front side of the packaging is entirely in English.

Spanish Packaging
The same information is provided in Spanish on the back side of the packaging.

It’s a tool I bought in Home Depot, a pad with a handle that’s designed to paint along edges. I bought it because I need to caulk and then re-paint the area around my windows. I don’t want to get paint on the window frame. Based on the information on the front of this package — which is entirely in English — I decided that this tool would do the job and I bought it.

It wasn’t until I opened it up today that I realized the back of the package pretty much duplicated the front — but in Spanish. The name of the tool in big, bold letters (Edger = Bordes); a list of suggested uses (Doors, windows, ceilings & baseboards = Puertas, ventanas, cielos razos y zócalos) the three steps to use (Load, Paint, Release = Cargue, Pinte, Despreda); and even the tag line (A PERFECT EDGE EVERY TIME = ¡Un Borde Perfecto Siempre!). Even the actual numbered instructions were in two languages, but with Spanish played down in a smaller font size. It was all there, in black and white instead of color, on the back instead of the front.

How could that possibly offend a flag-waving, anti-immigration American? Yet it provides the information both English-speaking and Spanish-speaking people need to know that the tool is, what it does, and how it works.

Anyway, I thought I’d take a moment to share my thoughts on this great solution to a politically charged issue. Well done, SHUR-LINE. ¡Olé!

Being an Inspired Pilot

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An interview and more.

Inspired Pilot LogoA few weeks ago, I was contacted by Marvyn Robinson, a U.K. pilot and podcaster. He wanted to interview me for his podcast, Inspired Pilot.

I was flattered, of course. (I’m flattered any time someone contacts me with a request like this.) How could I not say yes?

About the Podcast

The About page on the Inspired Pilot website explains what the podcast is all about:

This will be a weekly show where I interview inspiring pilots, pilots with inspiring journeys from all around the world. Each week we will highlight the life of our featured pilot, follow their journey and how they got to where there are now.

We’ll examine how and why they got started, the decisions made along the way, experiences gained and lessons learned. All this with the view to INSPIRE seasoned pilots, mere mortal low hour pilots like myself, wannabe pilots and pilot enthusiasts alike, by guests sharing their inspiring journeys.

Just to give you an example of the spectrum of our guests, we are going to be talking to pilots from all areas of the aviation industry, from airline pilots, bush pilots, flight instructors, private pilots, bizjet, military and even retired pilots.

The whole idea behind the podcast is to inspire other pilots. The people chosen to be interviewed are supposed to be inspiring. So again, how can I not be flattered?

Who Needs Inspiration?

Every pilot knows at least one other pilot — or wannabe pilot — who just couldn’t seem to get it together to achieve his or her aviation goals. These people often have legitimate or imagined excuses for not moving forward. (I was married to one of these people for a while so I’ve seen it firsthand.)

For many people, the excuse is a life change. For example, a guy is taking flight lessons part time and gets married or his wife becomes pregnant. All of a sudden, his priorities change and he puts flying on the back burner. Many times, he never goes back to it.

For other people, the excuse is simpler: money. Learning to fly isn’t cheap and not everyone has disposable income to throw at what might only be a hobby. When the economy tanked, flight schools were hit hard because fewer people could afford lessons. Renting an aircraft once you become a pilot isn’t cheap either. It has to fit into your budget.

For a select group of people, there are medical issues that can stop a prospective pilot in his or her tracks. Uncorrectable vision, diabetes, untreatable high blood pressure, heart problems — there are a multitude of conditions that pilots simply are not allowed to have.

These are the people Inspired Pilot was created for. To get them excited about flying. To get them thinking of ways to work around the hurdles that face them. To inspire them to achieve their flying goals.

These are the people I want to inspire.

It’s More than a Piece of Paper

I’m one of the people who want to fly. I’m not interested in collecting pilot ratings just because I can.

For example, I learned to fly an open cockpit gyro last spring. It was a ton of fun. I got to fly that gyro again last week. George, who owns it and taught me to fly it, told me what I need to do to get my rating in it. I’m very close — all I need is a check ride.

But why get a rating for something I seldom have an opportunity to fly? That piece of paper is meaningless to me. I’m perfectly satisfied to fly the gyro occasionally with George. In the unlikely event that I buy a gyro or have access to one on a regular basis, I might reconsider getting that piece of paper. Until then, why bother?

And then there are just the folks who claim they want to fly and even move toward the goal of becoming a pilot and perhaps even become pilots — but then don’t do what it takes to stay current and safe. These are the nervous pilots, the pilots who are afraid to push the limits of their experience, the pilots who use the slightest possibility of inclement weather as an excuse not to fly. They’re pilots only because they have a piece of paper saying that they are. (This was the situation with my wasband.)

But are you really a pilot if you seldom fly? If you can come up with more excuses not to fly than reasons to fly? If you never seem to want to fly?

In my experience, a real pilot wants to fly.

If you’re not driven to fly, if you don’t feel a need to get up in an aircraft and explore your world from above, if the responsiveness of an aircraft under your control doesn’t excite you or fill you with joy — well, then you really shouldn’t waste your time and money becoming a pilot. There might be other activities that do for you what flying does for real pilots — bicycling, skiing, painting, writing, golfing, skydiving, whatever. Pursue the activity that means the most to you — because you will never be an inspired pilot.

The Podcast

All that said, if you want to get inspired — or even if you just want to hear what I said on the podcast — you can find it here: 12: Maria Langer – Commercial R44 Helicopter Pilot & Blogger – Inspired Pilot.

On Pilots and the Sacred Trust

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A violation of trust, an act of murder.

Like most other frequent airline travelers, I was horrified to learn this morning that the cause of this week’s German Wings airplane crash in the French Alps is most likely the deliberate action of the “co-pilot” (i.e., First Officer), who locked the “pilot” (i.e., Captain) out of the “cockpit” (i.e., flight deck) and put the airplane into a steep descent that ended when it hit a mountain.

The only good thing to note about this is that men, women, and children on board likely never felt a thing as their lives were extinguished, like a candle’s flame between two calloused fingers.

As a pilot, this was more horrific to me. Why? Because the pilot who is responsible violated what I consider a sacred trust.

Let me try to explain. When I fly my helicopter, there is nothing more important to me than my passengers. By climbing aboard my aircraft, whether it’s for a 7-minute “hop ride” around town or a cross-country journey lasting hours, they have proven to me that they trust me with their lives. I don’t take that trust lightly. Maybe I pay closer attention to details, like the wind speed and direction or the way the helicopter lifts off the ground into a hover with their weight distribution. Maybe I fly a little higher, to reduce mechanical turbulence on a windy day and ensure that I’m well outside the “Deadman’s Curve” in the unlikely event of an engine failure. Maybe I keep my bank angle on turns a little flatter and my approaches and departures a little shallower to ensure a smooth flight.

I want my passengers to be not only safe, but comfortable. I want their memories of flying with me to include only the pleasant experiences they have during the flight.

I know a lot of pilots who don’t seem to think this way. Their goal is to impress their passengers with what they consider their flying skill. They want to give “E-Ticket rides.” For some reason, they think this is what their passengers want — and maybe some of them think they do.

But what passengers really want is to get off the aircraft in the same condition they got on it: safe, unharmed — and yes — alive.

And that’s what I call a sacred trust. The passengers trust the pilot to ensure their safety. If the pilot does anything to compromise that safety — whether it’s buzzing a backyard barbecue or diving into a mountain in France — he’s violated that sacred trust.

Pilots who even consider doing dangerous or suicidal things with passengers on board should not be in control of an aircraft.

Airplane
I’m about to get on this airplane for a flight from CA to WA. Do I need to worry about the mental state of the pilots?

As a pilot, I’m upset that a young German pilot decided to kill himself and the 149 people who trusted him with their lives in such a horrific act. I’m worried about what future passengers will think about their pilots’ mental state of mind. I’m worried that people will use this incident to fuel their fears of flying, to avoid flying altogether. I’m worried that the FAA or airline management or other authorities will enact knee-jerk rules and regulations — like the one that made cockpit doors impregnable — that further burden responsible pilots with tests and paperwork that add to their stress and workload.

Most of all, I’m angry about the half-informed media coverage and their “experts,” jumping to conclusions and exploring crazy conspiracy theories, grasping for someone to blame, instilling fears in viewers and listeners and readers.

Again.

Let’s get this straight: it’s all about a pilot who betrayed his passengers’ sacred trust.

This is not just suicide by airplane. This pilot committed murder, pure and simple. In doing so, he sullied the reputation of other professional pilots who take their responsibilities as a pilot seriously.

And that’s what upsets me most of all.

—

28-Feb-15 Update: “Pilot Who Downed Airliner Vowed ‘To Do Something’ To Be Remembered” might shed some additional light on his state of mind.

When Is a Bathtub More than Just a Bathtub?

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When it’s a symbol of how goals can be achieved when you’re not being held back.

When I was in college, I dated a guy whose family was pretty well off. They had two very nice homes and one of their homes included a soaking tub in the master bathroom. I was 19 when I saw it and from that point on, I wanted one just like it.

Of course, that wasn’t immediately possible given my financial situation. We graduated and my boyfriend and I went our separate ways. I lived alone for about a year and then met the man I’d eventually marry. We lived together in three different homes — well, five if you count the apartments he lived in part-time for work for several years — none of which could accommodate the tub I’d dreamed about, even though I could well afford it by then.

I should point out that my last home, in Arizona, had what’s called a garden tub. This was a generously sized bath tub that looked very inviting but was, unfortunately, not deep enough for a good soak. I used it a lot on winter afternoons, when the sun came through the glass block window and warmed the bathroom. I “made do” with what I had, with either my knees or my chest sticking out of the water while I read or sipped wine.

(Much later, during my last winter in Arizona, I drained and disinfected my outdoor hot tub. After refilling it with clean water and having the heater repaired, I spent quite a few evenings out there, soaking in the warm water. I think I used the hot tub more that last winter than I did in all the years I owned it.)

Americh Beverly 4040
My dream tub.

Oddly, on a trip to visit some friends in California around 2010 or so, I saw my dream tub again. It was in a rental home on the American River that belonged to a friend of a friend. It was installed exactly as I would have installed it: by a big window with a view. In this case, it was a view of the forest around the home, but that was enough.

I surfed the web and tracked down exactly what it was: Americh Beverly 4040.

Time passed. After 23 years together, I married the man I loved. He lost interest in me soon afterwards — but not my money, apparently — and left me for a desperate old whore he found online. (Read the posts tagged divorce if you want the sordid details.) He wanted the house and I didn’t so I left. I rebooted my life by buying 10 acres of view property in the Wenatchee Valley of Washington state and began building what has been referred to as a “custom home” but is actually just a very large garage with a modest living space upstairs.

But the more I dealt with divorce bullshit — and believe me, there was quite a bit of it — the more I realized how much I deserved to have the little luxury items I’d been denied for all the years I spent with a man incapable of making a decision without researching options until either I lost interest or the opportunity was long gone.

Little things like my soaking tub.

So when I designed my bathroom, I designed it with a soaking tub in mind. A tub by the window so I could look out and enjoy the view while I had a good, long soak.

Sadly, my dream tub would not fit in the space I designed. It had to do with my windows. You see, because I wanted to be able to enjoy the view whether I was standing up or sitting down anywhere in my home, I chose tall windows that started only 18 inches off the floor. My dream tub was taller than that. Most soaking tubs are. A built-in tub was out of the question. I’d have to get a freestanding tub.

I must have spent 20 hours in total searching the web for just the right tub. Every few weeks, I’d dive in again, looking at many of the same sites and tubs over and over. Trouble was, there’s no showroom anywhere near here that has tubs like I wanted on display. I had to rely on the Internet for photos and measurements. How many times did I sit on the floor with my legs out, holding a tape measure beside me to estimate water depth? It was vital that my entire body be covered with water. I did not want another bathtub that left my knees sticking out.

My Tub
The catalog photo of the tub I selected.

I finally settled on the 67″ Coley Acrylic Freestanding Tub available through Signature Hardware. It cost a bit more than I’d wanted to spend, but the longer the divorce bullshit dragged on, the more I was convinced I deserved it. I was tired of settling for less that what I really wanted.

I didn’t realize it, but the bathtub had become a symbol — a symbol of a new, unfettered life. A life where I was free to make all of my own decisions. A life where I no longer had to consult or debate with a sad sack old man who always seemed to have excuses for why something couldn’t be done. A man who was too fearful of taking risks that he couldn’t make anything worthwhile happen.

The bathtub arrived in January and sat in its huge box for two months. It was finally carried upstairs and installed in my bathroom on Thursday. When the plumbers left, it was ready to use.

And how I wanted to use it!

But I’d promised some friends I’d meet them for dinner and, by the time I got back, it was too late for a soak.

And on Friday, a friend came over for dinner. When she left, it was too late for a soak.

And on Saturday, I helped some friends with a catering job in town. When I got back, it was too late for a soak.

Yesterday was a rainy day. I spent most of the day finishing up electrical outlets and switches and light fixtures around my home. A friend came for a visit and we chatted for a while. When he left, I fixed the ice maker in my refrigerator — the installers had failed to turn on the valve for the water source. Then I sat in my lounge chair by the window in the living room and just listened to the sound of the rain on the roof while looking out over the gray day, with low clouds drifting over the river and alongside the hills. My almost-finished home was warm and dry. I started thinking about that tub.

My First Bath
My first bath in the new tub was exactly as I’d hoped it would be.

A while later, I was stepping into deep, warm water with a glass of wine on the windowsill, well within reach. Hot water tumbled from the faucet, building bubbles high. Before the tub was filled my whole body was submerged.

It was exactly as I hoped it would be.

And that’s when I realized that this first soak was another milestone in my rebooted life. The realization of a goal I’d set for myself almost 35 years before but had abandoned due to circumstances beyond my control. It was possible because there was no “beyond my control” anymore. I had control of my life and could do what I wanted with it.

I was free to make things happen — and I was.