The flying job itself

[ExFokkerFlyer]

I HATE going to work... packing, getting all my stuff in order and packed into the car. My "commute" is a three hour drive with no traffic, I try to plan for four hours just in case. About halfway through that drive I kind of get into the groove of things. By the time I get to the plane, I'm fine, looking forward to doing the job. For about two and a half days, I'm having a good time. I can honestly say that I enjoy my time at work then, and I am glad I'm where I am. by the end of the third/beginning of the fourth day... I'm done... hate airports, hate airplanes, hate pilots... just want to go home.

After two or three days at home, i start thinking about work again...

It's like any career that you have clawed and scraped to get to... some days it's just okay, some days you wonder why you are so lucky, and some days you just want to tape the pilots next you's mouth shut.

BTW... looking forward to going to work on Wednesday now. Two day, should be fun.

 

[SLOTH]

We flew down the east coast tonight. Clear, smooth, good conversation Above 10k and a full moon.

There you go Gup, fixed it just in case.


The one thing that will make any job "fun" to be at, is the people that you work with. I work with some fantastic people, and each time that I run into old classmates or "family" from another domicile it's fun to catch up, which makes the airport appreciation hours go by very fast. Money is nice, but doesn't come to the top of the list for many. Growth in the job is what will keep one motivated. Once one stagnates, it'll lead to trouble starting usually with massive complaining.

 

[TMMT]

Everyone burns out.

I think most pilots have at one or more points in their careers seriously considered getting out, going back to college, or taking up cocaine...

I left a job flying a G-IV with a International/Domestic split of about 70/30, great pay and awesome perks for a Lear 60 job that flips the split.

I enjoy being at home in my bed 9 trips out of 10. And the occasional overnight is usually just one day, then back. Not 7 or 12 stuck in the City Hotel at the airport in Budapest...

 

[pilotyip]

But a nice thing about this job is when you leave the plane at the gate you are done with the job. No pressure to get that report done by a deadline, no need to stay on the phone tonight to see I can get some customers to pay early so I can make payroll this week, no filling charges against an employee who has been stealing from your company, no fights with the City about the amount of your tax on the sign on your building. In flying airplanes your days off are your days with no worries about how to keep the business running. Still love flying anything, DA-20 on a Line Check, C-172 with a new student trying to kill me, B-17 to an airshow, I would loved to have had a real airline career. Compared to many job, flying is a good one.

 

[tomgoodman]

The road not taken

A lot of us are very happy to have left professional aviation behind, but that doesn't mean that we would be even happier if we had never taken that first flying job. We would have been gazing at every contrail and thinking "if only....."

 

[CRJFlyer]

Have flown 13 yrs.. 10 professionally..(furloughed at the moment)

Love flying, not one thing I'd rather do (besides pro baseball player). I've found that out looking through the want ads. I see the 9-5er's and feel bad for them rushing home in rush hour traffic to have dinner and do it all again tomorrow!!

Hate to say I don't really care a great deal for alot of the crewmembers I fly with. This stems from being on the wrong end of the upgrade stick for my entire career thus far. (I've had 2 furloughs and a company go through bankruptcy. Total of 4 "airline" jobs in 10 years). I tend to get annoyed with some of the older statesmen who, for no provoked reason, think I'm fresh off my CFI or this is my first real job. Then again I'm only 31 and look maybe 27-28 according to my wife. So maybe the fact that I don't look the part may have something to do with it?

However I wouldn't recommend this job to many people. Too many variables and to little job security unless your very lucky.. But I'm deep into the profession and probably will never fully get out.

 

[Redtailer]

This question is for pilots who are currently flying for an airline or on furlough. Do/did you enjoy the flying job itself? I am not taking in consideration pay, QOL, or management issues. I am talking about flying the airplane itself and working with fellow crew members (other pilots and FA's).

I don't think you are going to get any really good answer to your question. The problem is that all of the issues you mentioned are so intertwined with the day in and out part of the job that it becomes impossible to separate the QOL from the job.

For example, you may love the airplane you are flying, but when you have 3 plane changes in a day with 5 legs by the end of the day you are just completely exhausted. Looking back on the day do you like the flying part of your job? Well yeah when I am not beat down tired, but that may be the norm in which case I may not like the job. Thinking about how you are going to feed your family will not make for a very pleasurable flight either. Those are just examples. My point is that you have to take it all in context.

As for me it was a career that has turned in to a job. Overall I do like it, but it would be tough starting out today. There would be a lot of different ways to do better in life.

 

[satpak77]

I have found myself telling myself "I love this job" when I am off for like 7 days straight, then fly 2 hour cross country, then am off for another 7. "Living the dream" etc. When I fly 6 days straight, off for one (which is at some hotel on the road), then fly for 6 days again, sleeping in hotel rooms, the "dream" factor sucks.

 

[avbug]

When I was fresh out of high school, working my first flying job, I slept on an office floor at night, and scrubbed airplanes and flew them low under powerlines in the daytime. I flew formation, I flew in strong winds, near buildings and trees and tractors. I mixed chemicals, and I worked from before sunup to well after sundown, seven days a week. I sprayed sunflowers, wheat, corn, and other crops. I turned wrenches and changed cylinders, welded, and did sheet metal repairs. Sometimes I drove a tractor during a break between flights. I could scarcely believe my fortune, my privilege, my chance, to be paid for something so rewarding. I fell asleep exhausted every night, and I sweated like a pig in the cockpit. I got slammed around, had my head bounced off the canopy, and got cut, burned, scratched, crushed, and even poisoned. A few drawbacks? Perhaps, but no drug could have been as addicting as flying ag, and no reward nearly as satisfying.

When I flight instructed full time, I revelled in the chance to see others excell, to see them break through whatever barrier held a student back. Every student that soloed was a personal victory, and I relived my own experienced through each student. I challenged myself, finding that this technique didn't work, or that, and forced myself to find better ways to reach a student. I was learning more than the student. Years later as a check airman I felt the same way, every bit as interested, every bit as excited, to fly with a student. I couldn't contain it to one school or place. I flew CAP cadets and instructed them. I taught boy scout merit badges and flew the scouts. That enthusiasm and enjoyment from instructing hasn't dimmed a bit. I've let the certificates lapse a couple of times over the years, but they're still current still at the ready.

Arriving in Hong Kong in the dead of night after a long flight out of Bahrain, or completing 20 hours of pushing long distances through weather and night and foreign voices on scratchy HF radios, I've looked forward to the next flight more than the last. No matter how tired, no matter which side of the clock, no matter what problems may have occurred, time spent flying isn't deducted from one's lifespan, but only adds to it.

The eighteenth leg of the day, drenched in sweat, and boiling in a 150 degree cockpit, launching out for another fight with extreme turbulence and severe downdrafts into a smoky canyon, I've often marveled at how incredibly fortunate I am to be doing the job, to be getting paid to do the job, and to have the opportunity to fly some of the unique aircraft that do the mission. I've watched flames boiling up around my aircraft, occasionally in my aircraft, focused yet subconsciously entranced at the raw power and beauty of a raging wildfire. I never found a point when I couldn't do a little better, be a little more precise, and the challenge of delivering retardant never diminished or lost it's luster. Just one more load, every single time...just one more. Nothing smells sweeter than smoke in the cockpit, and no sound is more welcome than an incident commander or a lead pilot crackling in my helmet "Load and Return!"

Whether a short 1/2 hour leg, or an arrival after 12 hours and so many time zones, having seen two sunsets and a sunrise, and having flown half way around the globe, what a treat to have the chance to fly an approach to minimums. That moment, when approach lights pierce fog or part clouds like Moses parting the Red Sea, to reveal the vaginal waiting warmth of a safe runway, is a pleasure. Every single time. Like sex that pays.

That moment after a six hour flight on station when the tactical command center calls to advise a rocket attack is in progress, and time stops as I turn on target and light up a bad guy...never gets old. It is it's own reward. Not glamorous, not even something that can be relayed in detail, but privately, personally rewarding, all the same.

The simple act of completing an inspection on an airplane, or having taken one's time to ensure that craftsmanship holds my signature as clearly as the paperwork that accompanies it, is found rewarded in the quiet silence of a hangar or an uncrowded flight line. That moment when no one is around, and I can put one hand on the airplane and pat it gently and talk to it, and say "welcome back, good job, and thanks." That's the moment, when the wind stops and the world is looking away, I can hear the airplane talk back, and it does. Those muted conversations, sometimes as simple as "together time," are bonding, and will never go away.

The twelfth load of the day, flying a crowded airplane packed with nylon and spandex-fitted jumpers, is always better than the first. That race to altitude, the air thick with the smell or parachute gear and exhaust, the strain for just one more foot of altitude, the rush of cooler air and the pull as the last stick of jumpers goes out, doesn't get old. I have to admit that each and every time I'd rather be the one going out the door, but that's for later...a reward for getting the job done now.

Standing on a mountainside, watching the fire upwind boil and heave, and even in the hot air feeling my head chill and my legs shake a bit, I look skyward and give thanks for being here to give thanks. The airplane intact, mostly, having survived another engine failure, this one in the midst of a violent, active wildfire that's already taken structures, vehicles, and a mountain...and me, I can't imagine what my life might be like without having had the richness of this experience. An elation at being alive, a disappointment that firefighting is done for the day, but here I am, sitting on a mountainside, a successful forced landing accomplished, and another valuable learning experience for which I can be immensely grateful...no, it hasn't lost it's luster. If anything, it's one more reason to get in and go do it again.

If you're losing the reason to go fly, if you're not feeling the draw, if you're feeling that the world isn't right for your mission today, then you're either in the wrong place, or you're not trying hard enough.

Does management suck the romance out of flying? Not if I don't let them. Am I disappointed that I can't barrel roll my learjet, simply because it's capable? Of course not. I revel in what I can do, and I use the airplane as it was designed.

When flying into a strong thunderstorm, the airplane decked out with sensors and gear and hardpoints and cameras, I think to myself what a nearly incomprehensible honor I'm privileged to enjoy. Why, no textbook could paint the inside of the storm like this; it simply cannot be appreciated with only the written word, and stories don't do it justice. That storm, the unholy power that far exceeds the energy of a nuclear blast, that could light an entire city or state with one single lightening bolt, really is the finger of God. Here to see it write, go I. Am I disappointed? Not a chance.

Whether you're happy in your job, happy in your career, or satisfied with your choice of flying, isn't up to management. It isn't up to the FAA. It's not a function of the number of legs you fly, or even the type of equipment, or how you operate that aircraft. It's up to you.

It's not the job that's lost it's luster. It's you.

Get it back. It's up to you.

 

[pilotyip]

If you're losing the reason to go fly, if you're not feeling the draw, if you're feeling that the world isn't right for your mission today, then you're either in the wrong place, or you're not trying hard enough.Does management suck the romance out of flying? Not if I don't let them. Am I disappointed that I can't barrel roll my learjet, simply because it's capable? Of course not. I revel in what I can do, and I use the airplane as it was designed. It's not the job that's lost it's luster. It's you.

Get it back. It's up to you.

well said, fly because you like to...disappointed