The backstory: I’m in Washington State on cherry drying contracts. In short, I’m being paid to be on call to use my helicopter to dry cherry trees in case it rains. You can learn the details about this in “The Life of a Cherry Drying Pilot.”
Last night, my grower called around 9 PM. He was almost certain that it would rain at 4 AM this morning. He lives in Wenatchee and his orchard block is near Quincy, a 30-minute drive south. He wanted to give me a heads up. He said that he knew I wouldn’t fly in the dark, but if it rained, he expected me to be drying at dawn. I assured him that would be no problem and encouraged him to call me if he needed me, no matter what time it was. That, after all, is what he’s paying me for.
I was dead asleep this morning when my phone rang. My Blackberry’s ring tone is a digitized version of the classic analog telephone bell. Despite the fact that I’d heard that sound every day for the first 20 years of my life, when it rang this morning, I had no idea what it was. After all, I was asleep. When I realized it was my phone ringing just inches from my head, I grabbed it, pushed the answer button, and said “Hello.”
It was my grower. “I’m leaving Wenatchee now,” he told me. “The sky is clear.”
I wasn’t too sleepy to wonder why he was calling me to tell me the weather was good.
“I’m going to see what it’s like down at the orchard,” he went on.
I got the feeling he wanted a local weather report. After all, I was only 6 miles (as the crow flies) from his cherry trees. Fortunately, the zip-up window beside my head faced out that way. I unzipped it and looked out. I could see stars. It wasn’t raining. I couldn’t see any rain clouds by the light of the waning moon. I reported my findings.
“Well, I’m going down there anyway,” he said. “I’ll call you if it rains.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. We said goodbye and I found the button that disconnected us. The phone reverted to clock mode. It was 3:50 AM.
I managed to get back to sleep for another hour before the birds woke me up for the day.
It’s nearly 12 hours later and it still hasn’t rained.
When I told this story to my husband, he told me I needed to have a talk with the grower. I told him I’d do no such thing. I explained that I was on standby and that the grower had paid me good money to worry along with him about his crop of cherries. If it made him feel better to wake me up to discuss the weather once in a while, that was fine with me.
Neighborly flying service folks let me park my helicopter on one of their tie-down spots.
Last year, when I was in Quincy for cherry drying season, I was fortunate enough to get a hangar for two months. Having a hangar can be a pain in the butt when you have a helicopter, but I was prepared and had my tow bar handy. Weather was [too] good and I didn’t fly much. It was nice to keep the helicopter out of the sun.
This year, I didn’t bother trying to find out if the hangar was still available. I doubt it is — someone else was moving in the day I moved out. And since I don’t have my tow bar with me, moving the helicopter in and out would be nearly impossible by myself anyway.
Quincy airport is about 4-1/2 miles from my living space at the Quincy Golf Course. That isn’t very far. But there were other, closer options for parking the helicopter. One was the Ferguson Flying Service right across the street from the golf course. I stopped by there on Monday, before bringing the helicopter in from Seattle, to see if I could park there. They very graciously said that I could.
My parking space at Ferguson’s Flying Service in Quincy, WA.
So I’m parked on one of the concrete tie-down pads they used to use for their crop dusters.
For those readers who are not familiar with agricultural aviation, i should probably explain what a flying service is. A flying service is a company that provides crop dusters and related agricultural aviation services for farmers and growers. Quincy is farm country, full of wheat, corn, alfalfa, potato, and other crop fields, as well as fruit trees and even some grape vines. There are at least two flying services in the area. Each has its own scrawny paved runway and a small handful of crop dusters.
Another view of my parking spot and the plane beside me.
Now, if you look closely at the biplane in these photos, you’ll probably notice that it doesn’t look “airworthy.” It’s not. For one thing, it’s missing it’s tail — or “tail feathers” as one of the local pilots referred to it. Its big radial engine also needs some work. It’s apparently bled out, too — the engine needs some serious TLC.
But Ferguson’s has other airplanes it flies. This one is parked until it’s repaired and ready to fly.
I want to thank the folks at Ferguson’s Flying Service for allowing me to park at their facility. It’s great to have the helicopter so close and it’s great to chat with the guys when I go over to check on it or prepare for a flight.
One of the growers I’m working for this year asked me if I’d add another 5-acre block to the list of cherry blocks I’m drying in June. The block in question was in Wenatchee. Not the outskirts of Wenatchee, like another block I’m doing for him. This one is in Wenatchee.
I got directions and drove out there yesterday. It wasn’t easy to find. That could be because it was in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. The cherry trees were surrounded by taller trees and houses. One of the cherry trees actually overhung the garage of a house on the border of the block’s property. I saw all this from the one street where I could see the trees from my truck. I didn’t see it from the air.
I wasn’t happy about the location. There were power lines and too many houses. I wondered whether the town had any ordinances that prohibited low-flying aircraft. After all, I’d have to fly just 5-10 feet above the trees. About equal with the rooflines or second-story windows of some of the adjoining houses.
I got back to my camper and called the Wenatchee police. A dispatcher took my info. An officer called me back about an hour later. I explained the situation.
“Are you definitely going to do this?” he asked.
“I don’t want to,” I admitted. “This is what’s going to happen. About half the people around there will think it’s really cool. The other half will call you or the FAA to complain. And if it rains overnight, I fly at dawn. That means 5 AM.”
“We have a noise ordinance,” he offered.
“That’s good,” I said.
“And what about safety? Aren’t you worried about crashing into houses?”
“I wouldn’t crash into houses if I go down,” I assured him. “But I would go into the trees. And things would fling off. It wouldn’t be pretty.”
“I don’t think you should do it,” he said.
“Works for me,” I replied.
We wished each other a pleasant evening and hung up.
This morning, I was in the area with my helicopter and another pilot on board. That’s when I got the full picture of the orchard and its odd shape. I asked the pilot with me to take some photos. So here’s the orchard I won’t dry:
There’s a video that’s been making it around Twitter and the blogs of professional photographers lately. It’s called “The Vendor Client Relationship — In Real World Situations.” I’ve embedded it here, just in case you haven’t seen it yet. It’s worth a look if you’re either a service professional or someone who uses service professionals. In other words, it’s worth a look for anyone.
The problem is, too many people try to save money by trying to cut special deals with service professionals. Sean Cayton, for example, is a professional photographer who blogged about this topic. In his article on Black Star Rising called “Five Tips for Dealing with Unreasonable Client Requests,” he reported:
I met recently with a prospective wedding client who was on a very tight budget. The groom, an art director, asked if I would allow him to help with the photo editing in order to save some money. I had to tell him no. I operate a full-service studio, and letting the wedding couple do their own editing just isn’t an option for me.
As a helicopter pilot, I’m often asked to provide flying services at locations an hour or more away from my base. Not only do the potential clients try to get a lower hourly rate from me, but they balk when I explain to them that they have to pay the cost of getting the helicopter to the operating area and back. In their mind, I’m not providing a service to them when I’m not flying with one of their people on board. But the simple reality is that I’m working for them from the moment I begin my flight planning and pull the helicopter out of its hangar to the moment I put the helicopter back.
They’re fortunate they’re only paying for the time on the Hobbs meter. I put at least an hour more of unbillable time into every single flight I do.
Why We’re In this Mess
I believe that one of the reasons service professionals have to deal with clients like this is because too many other service professionals have said yes to their unreasonable demands.
I’ll admit that I used to be one of them. When I first started my flying business, I was so hungry for work that I’d do almost anything to make a client happy. That sometimes included trading services (usually advertising space) for all or part of my fee, waiving ferry fees, or dropping my rates just to better meet my client’s budgetary needs. Then one day I started looking at the numbers. While the revenue I was bringing in usually covered the variable expenses of flying — the actual flight cost per hour — they didn’t come anywhere near covering my fixed expenses, including hangar rent, advertising, and insurance. I realized I was working at a loss.
And I realized that I’d rather not work than to lose money doing it.
Just Say No
So I started saying no.
I said no to local flying jobs less than 30 minutes long and other flying jobs less than an hour long. It simply wasn’t worth the trouble of taking the helicopter out of the hangar for the profit I’d make on these short flights. (I did, however, encourage longer flights by introducing rate reductions for flights over 5 hours and 10 hours.)
I said no to free ferry flights for repositioning the helicopter. I was not going to fly for free anymore. Not only was there a helicopter cost involved, but a trained helicopter pilot was at the controls. Didn’t she deserve compensation for her time?
I said no to any barter offers — I can’t fuel the helicopter with a free ad in a publication no one will read or pay my insurance bill with a photo taken during a flight.
I said no to flights that required me to spend more than 15 minutes in flight planning before I had a signed contract and deposit in hand. I was tired of doing someone else’s homework in the hope of getting a flight they were probably too cheap to pay for.
This really happened:
One person I did a charity golf ball drop for made fun of me the following week at a local Rotary Club meeting because we missed the drop zone on our first try. I guess she didn’t appreciate how much it cost me to make one drop, let alone the second drop we did to make up for our failure. You know what I said when she had the nerve to ask me to do it again the following year: no.
I also started saying no to all charity flights, including raffle prizes. They’d promise a mention in the charity publication, etc., but these free pieces of paper were usually discarded, unread. Zero advertising value — instead, all it’s good for is more requests from more charities. And for a while, i was getting more charity requests than calls from paying clients.
The Importance of Screening
I also started screening my clients during their initial contacts with me. Did they sound like they were going to try to wrangle a deal with me? Were they making unreasonable requests? Did they have a clue about what they wanted? Were they trying to use me as a tool for getting information without utilizing my services? Did they have the ability to pay at the conclusion of the flight? Did they understand what they were getting for my hourly rate?
If I got any indication during the phone call that they could be trouble, I actively began discouraging them from flying with me. I’d state minimum fees and make it clear that I wouldn’t budge on my rate. I’d tell them that what they wanted was beyond the capabilities of my aircraft. And sometimes, if I got a gut feeling that flying for them would be more trouble than it was worth, I’d tell them I wasn’t available on the day or time they wanted me, even if I was.
Snobby? Elitist? I don’t think so. Just protecting my interests.
We Need to Stand Firm Behind Our Experience, Expertise, and Skills
I’ve been in the business for eight years now and have a wide range of experience completing many different missions. I’ve decided to stand behind my experience, expertise, and skills. That’s what my clients are paying for and despite what they might think, they’re getting a lot for their money.
I probably have more knowledge and experience for photo flights over Lake Powell than any other helicopter pilot flying today. You want an experienced pilot to take you on a photo flight over the lake? Then you’ll pay the 4 hours of ferry time to get me up there and back. Hint: there’s no other helicopter pilot who will fly up there for free.
I happen to have a good amount of skill chasing race cars and boats, low-level and high speed. I can put a still or video photographer right where he needs to be in these action photo shoots. Is your race an hour away? Then you’ll pay the 2 hours of ferry time to get me there and back. And you won’t load up the helicopter with unnecessary “observers.” You’re not just paying for a helicopter and a skilled pilot — you’re paying for a safe flight.
An off-airport landing zone.
I’ve probably flown over and landed at more remote, off-airport locations than any other commercial helicopter pilot in Arizona — other than medevac pilots. You want to see some “air park” property in northern Arizona, east of Wikieup? Or a bunch of land north of I-40, east of the Colorado River? Or a vacant steel plant outside of Kingman? Or the side of a 40-mile long cliff north of Seligman? Or a powerline stretching from Forepaugh to Bagdad? Or a pipeline stretching from Tucson to the New Mexico border? Or a stretch of the U.S.-Mexico border from Yuma to Nogales? Or some other equally weird or remote place? Then you’ll pay for a pilot who knows where to find fuel, who to contact for permission to fly through restricted areas, where to find a landing zone where you can get out and take pictures or soil samples or a leak. And don’t expect to trade that flight time for a mention in the credits of your video or annual report or promises of more business in the future.
I’m not going to sell myself short — even if it means losing out on business.
Frankly, if a client doesn’t pay me what I’m worth, I’m losing out anyway. And I may as well lose out in the comfort of my office or home than flying a mission for someone who doesn’t appreciate the value of what he’s getting.
What do you think?
I’d love to read your stories of how clients have tried to deal you out of what you think you deserve. Not just from pilots or photographers, but from any service professional. Use the comments link or form for this post to share your stories or links to them on your own blog.
And if you think I’m wrong about this — that we should allow potential clients to cut whatever deal they like with us — I’d like to know why. Maybe there’s something I’m missing here.
But after years in a very expensive and highly specialized business, I don’t think so.
My helicopter is sitting in a hangar at Boeing Field in Seattle, WA, being tended to by a team of experienced Robinson helicopter mechanics. There’s nothing wrong with it — well, other than a few minor squawks. It’s in for its annual inspection.
I, on the other hand, am in Wickenburg, AZ, finishing up some work before I head northwest for the summer.
So, for a while, I’m helicopterless.
Of course, now my phone is ringing with calls from folks who want to fly. Tours of Phoenix, day trips to the Grand Canyon, photo flights west of Sedona, and even a tour around Wickenburg (if you can believe that). Sorry folks. No can do. Helicopter is out-of-town and I’ll be joining it shortly.
We flew it up last week. I took Alaska Air back to Phoenix. Next weekend, I’ll hook up my travel trailer to my husband’s pickup truck and drive up to Quincy, WA. Although I might spend a few days in the campground on Crescent Bar, it’s more likely that I’ll simply return to the Quincy Golf Course and set up camp in one of its five full-hookup sites. The manager there is looking forward to my return — isn’t that nice?. He was pleased to tell me that they fixed last year’s Internet problems and now have WiFi on site. Sometime the second week in June, I’ll hop a flight on Horizon from Wenatchee to Seattle, hitch a ride to Boeing Field, and climb aboard my helicopter for the flight across the Cascades and back to Quincy.
I might even take one of my Twitter friends along for the ride.
But until then, I feel strangely grounded in Wickenburg, with nothing to fly.
It’s odd. I hardly flew at all in March and April, yet I didn’t miss the helicopter. After all, it was nearby, in its hangar. I flew quite a bit in May, covering it with dead bugs on that last flight into BFI. Now, with May drawing to a close and the helicopter 1000+ miles away, I miss it.
I’m already looking forward to that flight in June.
And hoping for a rainy cherry season in central Washington, so I get plenty of time to fly.
An off-airport landing zone.