The Truth About My Government Union

Now, I'm pissed off.

For quite awhile now, the media in this country has constantly portrayed government workers as lazy, overpaid, sacks of crap who can't get a real job. Public unions have been demonized by Tea Partiers. Pay and hiring has been frozen. The public has been seemingly disgusted with us.

I have absolutely had it. My own father even laughed about my "needing the protection of a union, even though I'm an employee of the federal government." Clearly, he has never worked for the federal government.

I am an air traffic controller at the third busiest TRACON in the country. TRACON stands for Terminal Radar Approach Control. Most of the public has no idea what air traffic controllers do, who we are, or why we even exist. About 40% of the time when someone hears I'm an air traffic controller, they think I have a set of orange wands on a ramp to guide aircraft away from the terminal.

There are relatively few of us, about 15,000 in the country. It's not a huge career field. We're pretty efficient.

After you get done talking to the tower controllers, your pilot talks to us. We sit in a very large, dark room watching and controlling your digital blips. We work traffic in and out of every airport, over 50 of them, in our airspace. We work 24/7, nights, weekends, and even Christmas. We get you, your packages, your car parts, your space shuttles, your emergency care flights, your Superbowl celebrities in and out safely, every day. We deal with an unbelievable amount of crap. Every day, someone's engine goes out somewhere, someone has a heart attack on a plane, a tire blows on the runway, weather builds like you just wouldn't believe, and things go wrong, a lot. Our brains couldn't work any harder sometimes. In no uncertain terms, we freakin' move America.

And it's hard. We push and push and push ourselves day in and day out to be as efficient as possible. We absolutely do our best to save these airlines as much money as possible. If they weren't here, we wouldn't be either. I've seen a controller vomit after a nightmarish session. Many, many, many controllers have sacrificed relationships with their families, their livers, and countless other demands have been met because of this job. I have nightmares about the crap that happens at work often. It is, at times, the most stress I think possible. I don't think people have a clue how many airplanes fly over their heads everyday.

So we do make decent salaries and we do get adequate health insurance coverage. We do get extra sick days, although I refer to them as "mental health holidays." But I can't even begin to describe how many times I have thought, there is absolutely no way they could pay me enough for this. We are required by federal law to retire no later than age 56. This LAW was not mandated so government slugs could collect fat pensions early. It's because OLD PEOPLE CAN'T KEEP UP. It's a young person's job. Federal law also requires that new controllers must be less than 31 years of age when they start. It's because of how much training is required to be a safe and efficient controller. I've been a controller in the military and the FAA for a total of 9 years now, and I'm still not completely certified. If you want to die, then I'd love for you to have your plane (and 15 others) crossing at all altitudes, with a 65 year old at the wheel.

Our job is very unique. No one else does it primarily because of the liability and national security issues. The opportunities for lawsuits are literally endless. We do a lot to support national security every day that isn't public information. Because of how fast planes move, how few pilots speak English well, globalization and such, all our equipment, rules, procedures, phraseology, must all coincide. We give our lives to this public service. There isn't another employer competing with ours. We are dedicated public servants who bust our collective bargaining asses day in and day out. The federal government states publicly that they strive to be a model employer. And they should.

Yes, we do have a union. And our union does a ton more than just bitch about pay and benefits. They serve controllers well in many other areas. For example, just about anything, from high blood pressure to depression can cause controllers to lose their medical certifications. They don't want people passing out on the job. The union provides long term disability insurance. In the public realm, no one else will offer it to controllers because of it's nature. Our union provides numerous other services that benefit our career field that is available no where else.

And I'm not defending everything our union does. Sometimes they get involved in stupid arguments, the kind that cut off their noses to spite their faces. But by and large, the union is far more helpful than not.

But since we're evil government slugs, maybe the public would like for the cheapest bidder to take our place. Maybe we should be sweating not being able to take care of our families and moonlighting at a pizza joint. Maybe we shouldn't be able to afford child care on holidays. Maybe we shouldn't be able to pay for vacations. Maybe on top of the very real nightmares at work, we should worry about losing our jobs. Maybe that would make the public happy. I'm sure Lockheed Martin would be as forthcoming about errors and mistakes with the public. I'm sure they wouldn't accept kickbacks from airlines to provide preferential treatment. They certainly wouldn't want to lose their contracts and all. I guess the public would love to see us all fired. Now our pay is frozen and talks of a real government shut down on March 4th are surfacing.

What really angers me though is that government employees have been made scapegoats for our budget problems. The FAA, and many other federal public services, are by large self funded via user fees. Entitlements make up 65% percent of the federal budget. Until the GOP and Democrats want to acknowledge that and address that problem, our budget woes are going no where. Social security and medicare are out of control. 11% percent of our budget pays interest on debt. I am also furious that so few are concerned about the billions being burned away by welfare hogs. I didn't even know until recently that if you make a certain amount of money, you can actually get more back, thousands more, on your federal tax refund than you pay in, via the Earned Income Tax Credit.

Government employees aren't lazy. We aren't overpaid. We aren't dumb. Air traffic controllers, FBI agents, NASA gurus, CIA operatives, and so on are not stupid people. Stupid people get people killed. We could all be successful in the private sector, very successful. I joined the military out of a sense of patriotism and in pursuit of a free college education. I did that before Sept. 11th. Before it was trendy. I bust my behind to help the public. I do it to take care of my son. I am so sick and tired of being portrayed on Fox News as anything less than a dedicated public servant.

In reference to a possible government shutdown, I saw a comment on a news article that said "True public servants will come in to work, even if they aren't getting paid." Really? To help the grateful American citizens? Fat chance.

The Truth About Blogging

So I started this blog with the greatest intentions. I really do enjoy it, but I've been so busy with other things lately. It takes more time than I realized to put together a section, then edit and proofread so no one thinks that you actually really don't know how to spel.

Anyway, I have had a lot of thoughts lately about things I want to discuss with both of my readers. :) Politics, work, my four year old, dating and blah, blah, blah.

I will make this quick but I must say that work is kicking my behind harder than ever before. Three and four hours a day on Dallas North is rough. My trainer, Kenny, told me today that he's declaring Friday's "pro day." That's where we just get currency on other positions and don't train. We both need a break. It sucks. It's a helluva lot harder than it looks. The level of complication and complexity is nearly painful. My head just spins and I can't hardly see straight at the end of the day. Tonight, it's going to be the gym and a stiff drink, again. So let's just cross our fingers that my key-card still works in the morning. I'll try not to neglect this, because it is fun, for too much longer.

So Tell Me the Truth...

Some of you may or may not know anything about my personal life, this is, again, assuming that someone reads this. I have no intention of actually dropping any of the juicy details, except to say that I started seeing a counselor. It's mainly just to deal with one area of my life. Not crazy, just conflicted and quite possibly confused. At the going rate of $100/hour, hopefully we can straighten this out quickly.

It was the oddest experience though. I've never even seen this woman before. I walked in, sat down, she introduced herself and I did the same. I then proceeded to drop the Cliffs Notes version of my dilemma and waited like a nervous school girl for the principal's reaction. This is something that I don't talk to other people about and I just blabbed on and on about extremely personal and private issues to a total stranger.

Could she help me? Would she laugh at me? Is she really going to keep this stuff confidential? On a scale of 1 to 10, how crazy am I, compared to others who walk in here? Did she really want to cringe? Was that your actual reaction or the generic one you save for the really bad cases? Do you think I'm a moron? Are you saying you can help me because you can or because you know I'm about to drop a lot of cash on this "experience"? Is that why you complimented me on my shoes?

I have been thinking about what this woman does for a living, as I wrote her what will probably be the first of many checks. What an easy way to make a living, right? Sit on the couch and listen to other people bitch. Then ask them about it and help them help themselves. Problem solved! I am clearly in the wrong line of work. Right?

Surely it must be a little depressing though. I know a lot of people have experienced horrors that make my trip to the counselor seem silly and frivolous. Maybe listening to traumatic experiences of others makes her feel better about her own life. All I know is that for $100 an hour, I would listen to a lot of crap, too.

--A

The Truth About Holidays

Happy 4th of July!!

I love this holiday. I remember so many 4th's when I was younger. There was the one where our friend Rebecca lit her shirt on fire with a misfiring Roman candle. Or the one where Charles got attacked by hornets. Ahh...the memories.

In honor of the occasion, I will be working to collect my holiday pay. I bet the FAA has their best attendance ever on holidays. Being that today is a Sunday as well, I would be losing hundreds of dollars to go enjoy hot dogs and sit in traffic. I really want a new dishwasher far worse than mesquito bites and more adventures in avoiding drunken drivers. Besides, one benefit to my career is going up the tower after sunset and watching every fireworks display in the DFW metroplex. It really is neat. About 15 stories up with not a high building around.

I probably won't be making an entry tomorrow, not that I'm sure anyone is reading this. I have to work this evening with an 8 hour break and then Monday during the day. Monday nights are a big deal for me too. Hot yoga is on Monday nights. Ohhh yeaaaa.

I love hot yoga. I tried some yoga in Japan after a foot injury and never really did anymore of it, mostly due to the whole single mom thing. That was until January when I joined a gym (another one of those 20 or so resolutions) and started going. I liked the regular yoga classes pretty well, but then a friend of mine convinced me to try Bikram Hot Yoga. My life has never been the same.

The thing about yoga is that it can seem intimidating. When you see yoga stuff, you think hot women with perfect bodies twisted up like some freak contortionistic hell dance. Real yoga classes are nothing like that. I love it because there is ALWAYS someone fatter, less flexible and more out of shape than me.

They turn the room up to 105 degrees with added humidity, and you sweat sooooooooo much that seemingly every ounce of tequila consumed during the weekend prior leaves my body in a hurry. My pores, oh my pores, feel so young and fresh after it's over. I don't think I've ever lost less than 4 pounds on the spot. And there is one more thing that keeps my attendance near perfect...hot Army guy. I don't even know his name, but I always try and get a spot close too or at least with a good view of hot Army guy. He's always wearing Army shorts and bringing comic relief to the oft awkwardness of bending your sweaty ass straight in the air in an extremely close proximity to total strangers. If he ever stops attending, I would probably still go, but he would be sorely missed. I look forward to seeing his sweating biceps in a tree pose all week.

So you now understand why there will be no more posting until Tuesday at the earliest.

--A

The Truth About Dirty Laundry

Last New Year's Eve, at the dawning of the new decade, I made a list. It was a list of about twenty resolutions. Some were obviously repeats from 2009, some were new. I promised myself that this year would be great (though 2009 wasn't bad) and I would work very hard to continually improve. All of the resolutions were geared toward self improvement. Some were very clear and specific goals and some were more vague.

One thing that I vowed to do was keep a journal. It's something I've done off and on throughout my adult life. Writing helps me contend with and air out my personal grievances. I purchased a nice leather journal and was doing very well with it.

Then, in March, my grandmother died. I sat on the couch in her living room and watched on the big, flat screen television as my Aunt literally went through every inbox, outbox, saved, folder, etc in my Grandma's e-mail in front of the family. My Aunt meant well, and being 89, my Grandma surely would have deleted any proverbial dirty laundry in anticipation of the inevitable, but this was a huge eye opener for me.

I came home and immediately took note of all of my proverbial dirty laundry lying around. I went through my e-mail accounts and stewed over what to do about my journal. Like a 15 year old girl, I would just die if anyone ever read it. So into the shredder the journal went and I moved my adventures in self-absorbed rambling online. That way all of my personal crap will go straight to my password-protected grave with me.

I've really taken advantage of the never-ending free space available online for my typing pleasures. In keeping with my resolution, I've bitched and moaned regularly to no one on my blog but me at least thrice weekly. I've enjoyed it so much, that I have decided to start rambling publicly in addition to my too-juicy-for-anyone-else's-eyes-but-mine blog.

So we'll see how it goes...