Ice, White & Blue

Redhead Amok in Antarctica

Well, I'll Be

I'm PQed.

Yup, I passed the medical.

Now I just need to get a damn job.

Other than the one I just landed here in New Hampshire.

On a whim, at a friend's recommendation, I applied for a job at a small local international airport. I don't expect anyone to hire me with the threat of Antarctic deployment looming, but they did.

My first interview was a subdued affair in which the interviewer explained to me just how the company worked but didn't ask me too many questions. I left after just over an hour with a good understanding of what they expected for the job, and a promised call the next day. The call came, and I was told she had been impressed with me. I was invited back one day later for more interviews with other folks, largely on the unusual nature of my resume, which I'll admit is a haphazardly weird affair given the way I have hopscotched from career to career, job to job, and country to country.

Or perhaps it was for the entertainment value. I'm beginning to notice a tint of celebrity-hood in the way people introduce me as "the women who works in Antarctica." People either stumble to a silent stop trying to figure out what and where Antarctica is (Americans have a regrettable lack of geographical knowledge and are very Northern Hemisphere-centric) or why the hell I would go there, or stare at me awestruck because they are excited by the mere proximity to someone so completely outside the mainstream of American lifestyles. Reactions vary. But as I'm not a large, hulking, heavily bearded fellow, but a petite redheaded woman approaching menopause with disconcerting speed, their surprise tends to be clear.

I was on time for my second round of interviews, but due to unforeseen circumstances had to wait over an hour. I was perfectly content to schmooze with a spaniel, Ripley, and his lovely owner, Pat, and her husband: private plane owners delayed from their Nova Scotian destination by a few days of Maritime Provinces fog. Time flew as we chatted, and I babysat Ripley while Pat looked up a hotel and rental car deal for their next leg on her laptop. I yearned to fly north with her.

The delayed interviewer, feeling guilty, offered to take me out to lunch and do the interview there, since noon had come and gone already. I spent a pleasant hour being grilled by a tall, funny, man sporting a smile of amazement, or amusement, and a constant stream of questions about my resume. He picked apart everything and asked questions no one else had ever asked in an interview. He was fascinated, and we went chronologically from high school through to the Ice, with stops in New York, Montreal, Tokyo, New Hampshire and Maine along the way. He even looked at my wee addendum of "hobbies" and "other jobs" line at the very end of my CV and commented on those.

I wonder if previous interviewers of mine had ever even read my entire resume and noticed the details. Certainly, there has been, historically, a distinct lack of curiosity expressed. Either way, the attention to detail was quite flattering. Luckily his cell phone kept on ringing, and I had a chance to actually eat the food I ordered. (Why do I keep on with my optimism that Americans will one day get Fish & Chips right if I just order it at enough places?)

Later, I met several other people, including the owner of the company, got a tour of the premises, and was invited to work for them if I chose. In all I was there about 4 hours.

Did I lie and say I'd be around longer than September? No. I was completely upfront about the fact if the Ice beckons, I'm outa heah! Not an issue for them. I was even told, that if I do get down this season, I'd be welcome back next summer.

This during the interview.

I think this will be interesting. I get to play with planes again.

They seem a neat bunch of folks.

posted by: coldwish at 06:39 | link | comments (5) |
between 2007

Doutes Tremblants

It is hard to write my blog once I land home, for so many reasons.

I generally choose not to take you through the whole rehire or PQ (Physical Qualifications) process, because not only do they seem so picayune and mundane at this point (my 4th time through) as to be boring, but they bring up so many personal issues I don't address in this blog. It is also not always politically feasible to report on these things in a public forum. The Ice is a small community and it becomes no larger when we Ice folks leave the Ice between seasons there. The rumours fly, this time not over a galley table with the attendant "HR Swivel" to see who is seated near us, but electronically. Via phone, via email, via IMs and blogs. We talk. We gossip about the next season's budget, who has been hired back, who has quit, who is changing positions, what's happening to the Winterovers currently at Pole, Palmer and MCMurdo Stations.

It behooves me to keep my cards close to my chest here, if I want to go back to Antarctica.

But, wotthehell wotthehell.

I am not assured of returning to the Ice next year, nor am I assured of PQing.

I'm once more an Alternate (Alt) for a Fuelie position, due to a high number of returnees to the department with a greater number of Fuelie seasons under their belts. Several are returning after a hiatus of a season or more. An Alternate goes through the whole Human Resources/Medical/Dental process of being hired, but is not guaranteed a position on Ice. An Alt sits and waits with future unknown until a date unknown. Last year I lucked out and was pulled in to be a Fuelie, and I had the best time of my life. This year, even the other Alternates are more experienced than I am, or so I am told. My supervisor, Scott, is very transparent about the process and is honest about my chances of returning this Summer. They are not good.

This breaks my heart.

I also have a possible dental issue, not yet flagged by Denver, but mentioned to me by my dentist. If I Summer, I'll be fine, but if I hope to Winter next year in 2008, then I'll need some fillings. Denver (Raytheon Polar Services Corp is located in Denver, CO, and we often shorthand it) will pay for the check up and the x-rays, but not for any work that may be required to make a person dentally PQed.

The PQ this year involves the usual: Pap Smear, Physical, Urinalysis (two: one for drugs then one for health), Blood Screen (including HIV and Benzene), Hearing test, Tb test. I am over 40, so I am only required to get a Mammogram every other year, despite the ongoing slaughter of maternal female relatives by breast cancer. I arrange to have a Mammo in between those years they pay for it through a special program in my state that provides breast and cervical cancer screenings on a sliding scale. The BCCP (Breast and Cervical Cancer Program) in my area is run through the non-profit Avis Goodwin Community Health Center. I used to work there, and the service they provide the community is amazing. I am lucky to know these wonderful people, Indeed, nearly every area doctor's office I visit during my annual PQ merry-go-round of appointments is populated by alumnae of AGCHC, like me. It makes going to the doctor a much more pleasant experience every time I find a familiar smiling face behind the desk or at the other end of the speculum.

Thank goodness.

I've received weird Pap Smear results: Not only have I tested positive for High Risk HPV (Human Papilloma Virus), the strain that can cause cervical cancer, but my Pap results came back ASCUS (Atypical Squamous Cells of Undetermined Significance). I am recommended by my OB/GYN to have a colposcopy, at which point they may take a wee biopsy of my cervix. They will be looking for cancer cells. It's not a major worry at this point. I am more concerned at the delay in finishing and clearing my PQ. As an Alt, the sooner I am PQed the better. If I am the only Alt who has cleared the PQ hurdles at the time one is needed, my chances of getting called in are better than those Alts who have ongoing PQ issues that must be dealt with.

So, my future is once more uncertain.

Cancer I can deal with. At least that's a definite. The idea of not returning to the Ice, however, shreds my self-confidence into tiny wailing shrieks of doubt and fear and depression and insecurity.

Thus, I beg your forgiveness for my extended silences.

posted by: coldwish at 19:27 | link | comments (9) |
between 2007