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Answer You - Confessions of a Freighter Pilot
Managers: Yes, You DO Need Public RelationsWhy? Because sooner or later, virtually all business, non-profit and association managers must alter individual perception leading to changed behaviors among their most important outside audiences.And they must help persuade those external publics to their way of thinking, then move them to take actions that allow the manager’s department, group, division or subsidiary to succeed.Yes, all managers really DO need public relations.Which means, should you be such a manager, that you must do something positive about the behaviors of those important external audiences of yours that most affect YOUR operation.Results can come quickly when business, non-profit or association managers use public relations to alter individual perception among their target publics, leading to changed behaviors which then helps to achieve their managerial objectives.Fueling such an effort is the reality that people act on their own perception of the facts before them, which leads to predictable behaviors about which something can be done. When we create, change or reinforce that opinion by reaching, persuading and moving-to-desired-action the very people who
“Left.”
“OK, tell them left,” Donnie said.
“Denver Center, Freight 807 would like to deviate left of course for weather.”
“Freight 807, Denver Center, that’s approved. Had a United heavy go through an area at your 10:30 position with no problems”
Donnie turned the Lear to the left to where the controller suggested. He was hand flying using two fingers at 43,000 feet and even in turbulence, he was keeping the plane within 100 feet of his assigned altitude. Donnie had great touch. Without a working autopilot, he had to have great touch.
“See anything?” he asked his co-pilot who was scanning the skies like human radar.
“Nothing,” the co-pilot answered. “God I wish we had a moon.” They could see the monster storms when the moon was out. Without a moon, it was good guessing that kept them out of the center of a mountain of thunderstorm with as much energy as a atomic bomb. Thunderstorms were not the
For people who are looking for a way to invest their money, one of the most important considerations they look into is the return that they would get from the investment. This is because investors would want to invest their money in something that would give them the highest returns. However, investors are also wary of the security that the investment provides, as they also want an investment that is relatively low risk. Given this, investors are always on the look out for investments that offer both decent returns and minimal risk. The good news is that there are a number of investment options that people can take, which fit this profile. Among these, one of the most popular is investing in a certificate of deposit in banks or other financial institutions that offer them.What determines the returns on a CD?Investing in a CD involves lending to banks or other financial institutions an amount of money that the investor cannot withdraw for a certain period of time. In exchange for not being able to withdraw the investment for a period of time, investors are assured of a predetermined rate of interest that the bank would pay the investor on top of the principal amount of investment when the CD reaches its maturity. In addition to this,
“Ten.”
The chief pilot had his reasons for sending these young crews out on these old freighters. He wanted them to not only be able to fly with part of the instrument panel not working, but also fly with a part of the plane not working. Deferred maintenance was the standard and not an exception. He wanted his crews to get high altitude thunderstorm flying experience without working radar. He wanted them to fly through being tired and fatigued and shoot perfect approaches when all they could think about was sleep.
“Get a taxi clearance, will ya pardner?" Donnie asked his new co-pilot. Donnie was all-pilot. All-pilots would rather fly than do anything else. He was in command of this Lear for two weeks and was already a hardened veteran of freight flying.
"Donnie, we're over gross weight," the co-pilot said as he finished the weight and balance paperwork. "Those boxes are full of ball bearings."
The jet was holding short of the runway and as soon as the DC-9 on the runway was airborne, it would be their turn.
Donnie checked his the figures. There was no question the airplane was too heavy. If he chose to taxi back and off load the extra weight, he could miss his takeoff window and in the morning, he could be replaced with another hungry-for-hours captain. His career as a pilot was on the line. He looked at his co-pilot who was waiting for instructions. He also knew their lives could be on the line, too.
"Tell them we're ready."
“San Jose Tower, Freight 807 is ready for takeoff,” the copilot said through his boom microphone.
“Freight 807, San Jose Tower, cleared for takeoff.”
“807 is rolling.”
They were flying to Denver to meet three other Lears, a DC-9, and from out of the past, a copy of Sky King’s plane, the legendary twin engine Beech 18.
"Power up,” the co-pilot called as the old Lear started down the runway. “Steering. Pressures look good. Hydraulics are good. V1. Rotate. The jet stayed on the ground. The co-pilot looked at his captain friend who was straining to pull the nose of the plane off of the runway. “Rotate Donnie!”
The runway was slipping away faster than either of these pilots had ever seen. They should have been in the air 500 feet before but this Lear wasn’t ready to fly. It was eating up runway at over 145 knots. The red runway end lights seemed like huge spotlights aimed at them as they raced toward the end of the runwasy and the waiting bay..
“Freight 807 do you have a problem?” the tower controller called out. He had seen plenty of Lears take off on this airport but had never seen a Lear use almost all of the runway. His finger hovered over the fire department alarm button. “Damn, those guys aren’t going to make it,” he said to another controller.
"Help me pull it off," Donnie asked his anxious co-pilot. As the two of them pulled back on the yoke, the old Lear finally gave up its death grip on the ground and lumbered into the air.
“Tower 807 is fine,” the co-pilot called out.
“Roger 807. contact departure now.”
Both pilots sat is silence as the jet climbed into the night sky. Donnie flew the departure and his co-pilot made all of the necessary radio calls, completed the after takeoff and climb checklists, and finished the paperwork. He knew if the FAA got wind of this, they would probably be waiting in Denver to go over the paperwork.
“Close, huh,” the co-pilot said as he looked at his young captain with a sheepish grin. “Are you lucky or good?”
“Good.”
“Do you think airline pilots fly under these circumstances?” his co-pilot asked.
“Hell no.” Donnie answered. They have unions and attitudes. “What do you think? Left or right?” Donnie asked as he pointed out the front windshield at the tops of the thunderstorms lighting up directly ahead of them. The co-pilot squinted his eyes and tried to see the tops of the storms. A black mass in front of a flash of lightning could indicate a big cell that they couldn’t see. The radar didn’t work and it was an old single color green system that wasn’t that good anyway.
“Left.”
“OK, tell them left,” Donnie said.
“Denver Center, Freight 807 would like to deviate left of course for weather.”
“Freight 807, Denver Center, that’s approved. Had a United heavy go through an area at your 10:30 position with no problems”
Donnie turned the Lear to the left to where the controller suggested. He was hand flying using two fingers at 43,000 feet and even in turbulence, he was keeping the plane within 100 feet of his assigned altitude. Donnie had great touch. Without a working autopilot, he had to have great touch.
“See anything?” he asked his co-pilot who was scanning the skies like human radar.
“Nothing,” the co-pilot answered. “God I wish we had a moon.” They could see the monster storms when the moon was out. Without a moon, it was good guessing that kept them out of the center of a mountain of thunderstorm with as much energy as a atomic bomb. Thunderstorms were not the o
Anybody who rides a commuter train or a bus today, or who visits an airport, can easily see the impact of office technologies on the current workforce. People are wired to go. There are the ones wearing the headset with the wide band at the base of the skull, removed from hearing you by huge round earphones. There are the ones smartly attired with the "Blue Tooth" gracefully curving along the cheekbone into the ear. There are those who sit fixated, rapidly weaving their thumbs across the dashboard of the Blackberry style Personal Digital Assistant. Others are using laptops in a variety of sizes with a variety of screens. Some are entertaining themselves, watching contemporary films on tiny screens or aggressively playing computerized games. Some are hypnotized by the Excel spreadsheets with which they are working as they hunch over laptops like ancient gnomes. Still others are tapping away at text, giving and receiving instructions or creating documents that may be read a half a world away.This is not your grandfather’s office. If your grandfather had an office….No. This is the world of connectivity---the world where workers can be questioned in the shower; can talk to their home office as they raft down the Colorado River; can order s
Donnie checked his the figures. There was no question the airplane was too heavy. If he chose to taxi back and off load the extra weight, he could miss his takeoff window and in the morning, he could be replaced with another hungry-for-hours captain. His career as a pilot was on the line. He looked at his co-pilot who was waiting for instructions. He also knew their lives could be on the line, too.
"Tell them we're ready."
“San Jose Tower, Freight 807 is ready for takeoff,” the copilot said through his boom microphone.
“Freight 807, San Jose Tower, cleared for takeoff.”
“807 is rolling.”
They were flying to Denver to meet three other Lears, a DC-9, and from out of the past, a copy of Sky King’s plane, the legendary twin engine Beech 18.
"Power up,” the co-pilot called as the old Lear started down the runway. “Steering. Pressures look good. Hydraulics are good. V1. Rotate. The jet stayed on the ground. The co-pilot looked at his captain friend who was straining to pull the nose of the plane off of the runway. “Rotate Donnie!”
The runway was slipping away faster than either of these pilots had ever seen. They should have been in the air 500 feet before but this Lear wasn’t ready to fly. It was eating up runway at over 145 knots. The red runway end lights seemed like huge spotlights aimed at them as they raced toward the end of the runwasy and the waiting bay..
“Freight 807 do you have a problem?” the tower controller called out. He had seen plenty of Lears take off on this airport but had never seen a Lear use almost all of the runway. His finger hovered over the fire department alarm button. “Damn, those guys aren’t going to make it,” he said to another controller.
"Help me pull it off," Donnie asked his anxious co-pilot. As the two of them pulled back on the yoke, the old Lear finally gave up its death grip on the ground and lumbered into the air.
“Tower 807 is fine,” the co-pilot called out.
“Roger 807. contact departure now.”
Both pilots sat is silence as the jet climbed into the night sky. Donnie flew the departure and his co-pilot made all of the necessary radio calls, completed the after takeoff and climb checklists, and finished the paperwork. He knew if the FAA got wind of this, they would probably be waiting in Denver to go over the paperwork.
“Close, huh,” the co-pilot said as he looked at his young captain with a sheepish grin. “Are you lucky or good?”
“Good.”
“Do you think airline pilots fly under these circumstances?” his co-pilot asked.
“Hell no.” Donnie answered. They have unions and attitudes. “What do you think? Left or right?” Donnie asked as he pointed out the front windshield at the tops of the thunderstorms lighting up directly ahead of them. The co-pilot squinted his eyes and tried to see the tops of the storms. A black mass in front of a flash of lightning could indicate a big cell that they couldn’t see. The radar didn’t work and it was an old single color green system that wasn’t that good anyway.
“Left.”
“OK, tell them left,” Donnie said.
“Denver Center, Freight 807 would like to deviate left of course for weather.”
“Freight 807, Denver Center, that’s approved. Had a United heavy go through an area at your 10:30 position with no problems”
Donnie turned the Lear to the left to where the controller suggested. He was hand flying using two fingers at 43,000 feet and even in turbulence, he was keeping the plane within 100 feet of his assigned altitude. Donnie had great touch. Without a working autopilot, he had to have great touch.
“See anything?” he asked his co-pilot who was scanning the skies like human radar.
“Nothing,” the co-pilot answered. “God I wish we had a moon.” They could see the monster storms when the moon was out. Without a moon, it was good guessing that kept them out of the center of a mountain of thunderstorm with as much energy as a atomic bomb. Thunderstorms were not the
What would you change if you knew you would be dead in 1 day? Would you spend more time at work, pouring over budget figures, and trying to figure out how you were going to make this quarter's numbers? Would you read just 1 more e-mail from a complaining co-worker? Would you check your voicemail one last time? What would your obituary say about your life?If you're like me, I'd bet you wouldn't do anything work-related. In fact, I would bet you would see if there was any way to extend that 1 day into 6 months or more, because there is SO much you have yet to accomplish. You would vow to make a difference in your family, with your friends, in your community, maybe even in the world. Maybe you'd see if you could sky dive, climb Pike's Peak, or snorkel the Great Barrier Reef.If you knew when the end was, I'd guess you would do all those things you've been meaning to do, but that you just never had the time to do.Guess what? You won't know when the end is, so you better start living like you were dying today! Dr. Steven Covey, in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People talks about how we each must begin with the end in mind. This is as valuable advice for your life, just as it is valuable for goal setting, projects, or anything else
The runway was slipping away faster than either of these pilots had ever seen. They should have been in the air 500 feet before but this Lear wasn’t ready to fly. It was eating up runway at over 145 knots. The red runway end lights seemed like huge spotlights aimed at them as they raced toward the end of the runwasy and the waiting bay..
“Freight 807 do you have a problem?” the tower controller called out. He had seen plenty of Lears take off on this airport but had never seen a Lear use almost all of the runway. His finger hovered over the fire department alarm button. “Damn, those guys aren’t going to make it,” he said to another controller.
"Help me pull it off," Donnie asked his anxious co-pilot. As the two of them pulled back on the yoke, the old Lear finally gave up its death grip on the ground and lumbered into the air.
“Tower 807 is fine,” the co-pilot called out.
“Roger 807. contact departure now.”
Both pilots sat is silence as the jet climbed into the night sky. Donnie flew the departure and his co-pilot made all of the necessary radio calls, completed the after takeoff and climb checklists, and finished the paperwork. He knew if the FAA got wind of this, they would probably be waiting in Denver to go over the paperwork.
“Close, huh,” the co-pilot said as he looked at his young captain with a sheepish grin. “Are you lucky or good?”
“Good.”
“Do you think airline pilots fly under these circumstances?” his co-pilot asked.
“Hell no.” Donnie answered. They have unions and attitudes. “What do you think? Left or right?” Donnie asked as he pointed out the front windshield at the tops of the thunderstorms lighting up directly ahead of them. The co-pilot squinted his eyes and tried to see the tops of the storms. A black mass in front of a flash of lightning could indicate a big cell that they couldn’t see. The radar didn’t work and it was an old single color green system that wasn’t that good anyway.
“Left.”
“OK, tell them left,” Donnie said.
“Denver Center, Freight 807 would like to deviate left of course for weather.”
“Freight 807, Denver Center, that’s approved. Had a United heavy go through an area at your 10:30 position with no problems”
Donnie turned the Lear to the left to where the controller suggested. He was hand flying using two fingers at 43,000 feet and even in turbulence, he was keeping the plane within 100 feet of his assigned altitude. Donnie had great touch. Without a working autopilot, he had to have great touch.
“See anything?” he asked his co-pilot who was scanning the skies like human radar.
“Nothing,” the co-pilot answered. “God I wish we had a moon.” They could see the monster storms when the moon was out. Without a moon, it was good guessing that kept them out of the center of a mountain of thunderstorm with as much energy as a atomic bomb. Thunderstorms were not the
We, the human species, stand on the threshold of a new era…...The Age of Conscious Awareness.This threshold is, however, also a precipice on which we are poised and from which we cannot turn back. We must make a leap into the future, into the unknown. In order to survive that leap, we need to develop a new vision of who we are and how we fit into the rest of the universe.Humanity must undergo a transformation. We must decide to change the current image of seeing ourselves as creatures of circumstance into a new vision of seeing ourselves as creators. More distinctly, we must learn to become conscious, rather than unconscious, creators.In order for the human creature to become fully aware of its’ own nature and creative potential, it must first come to understand the concept of consciousness.It is typical for most people to think of consciousness as something uniquely human—at least that state of mind referred to as self-consciousness.Some even go so far as to say that consciousness is a state that is caused by the human brain, an epiphenomenal result of brain mass, an electrochemical accident of biological evolution.Most people tend to believe that their own ability to be aware of their own consciousn
“Roger 807. contact departure now.”
Both pilots sat is silence as the jet climbed into the night sky. Donnie flew the departure and his co-pilot made all of the necessary radio calls, completed the after takeoff and climb checklists, and finished the paperwork. He knew if the FAA got wind of this, they would probably be waiting in Denver to go over the paperwork.
“Close, huh,” the co-pilot said as he looked at his young captain with a sheepish grin. “Are you lucky or good?”
“Good.”
“Do you think airline pilots fly under these circumstances?” his co-pilot asked.
“Hell no.” Donnie answered. They have unions and attitudes. “What do you think? Left or right?” Donnie asked as he pointed out the front windshield at the tops of the thunderstorms lighting up directly ahead of them. The co-pilot squinted his eyes and tried to see the tops of the storms. A black mass in front of a flash of lightning could indicate a big cell that they couldn’t see. The radar didn’t work and it was an old single color green system that wasn’t that good anyway.
“Left.”
“OK, tell them left,” Donnie said.
“Denver Center, Freight 807 would like to deviate left of course for weather.”
“Freight 807, Denver Center, that’s approved. Had a United heavy go through an area at your 10:30 position with no problems”
Donnie turned the Lear to the left to where the controller suggested. He was hand flying using two fingers at 43,000 feet and even in turbulence, he was keeping the plane within 100 feet of his assigned altitude. Donnie had great touch. Without a working autopilot, he had to have great touch.
“See anything?” he asked his co-pilot who was scanning the skies like human radar.
“Nothing,” the co-pilot answered. “God I wish we had a moon.” They could see the monster storms when the moon was out. Without a moon, it was good guessing that kept them out of the center of a mountain of thunderstorm with as much energy as a atomic bomb. Thunderstorms were not the
When I meet an author with a great book concept, one who’s definitely the right person to write that book, right away I’ll often encourage him or her to self-publish. This is because I know that, if an author is thoroughly invested in what they have to say, and if they’re determined to create a buzz about their message, they’ll discover ...5 Fantastic Benefits of Self-publishing1. Control. When you enter into a contract with a major publishing house, you’re signing an exclusive agreement that prevents your having input into most of the important decisions that will affect your book’s perception by the public, and its sales. You’ll have very little say about the look and feel of your book cover, the endorsements that appear on the back of your book, or the wording of your press release, for example. And since all of the above elements are critical to giving your book its best chance for bestseller status, such loss of control can pose significant problems. “But don’t publishers know better than I what to do to sell a book?” you may ask. Not necessarily. Authors usually know more about their book’s subject—and hence, about their target audience (market)—than anyone else. Hey, they wrote the book!More food for thought about signing
“Left.”
“OK, tell them left,” Donnie said.
“Denver Center, Freight 807 would like to deviate left of course for weather.”
“Freight 807, Denver Center, that’s approved. Had a United heavy go through an area at your 10:30 position with no problems”
Donnie turned the Lear to the left to where the controller suggested. He was hand flying using two fingers at 43,000 feet and even in turbulence, he was keeping the plane within 100 feet of his assigned altitude. Donnie had great touch. Without a working autopilot, he had to have great touch.
“See anything?” he asked his co-pilot who was scanning the skies like human radar.
“Nothing,” the co-pilot answered. “God I wish we had a moon.” They could see the monster storms when the moon was out. Without a moon, it was good guessing that kept them out of the center of a mountain of thunderstorm with as much energy as a atomic bomb. Thunderstorms were not the only threat in this part of the country.
“Donnie, have you ever been in severe clear air turbulence?”
“Once,” he answered. “Over Salt Lake. It rattled the entire plane and almost upset us.” Both of these pilots had serious respect for the invisible waves of wind in the air. “It was on us and over in about ten seconds. Really something.”
The co-pilot said nothing as he turned the radio to Denver’s airport weather and started to write down what he heard. Moderate snow. Visibility a half mile of less. Breaking action on runway 35 right is still good. Light right crosswind.
“Freight 807 contact Denver Tower at the marker, ga night.”
“807 Roger, ga night.”
“Denver Tower, Freight 807 is at the outer marker inbound for 35 right.”
“Freight 807, Denver tower, roger. Continue approach. Number two. United 7330 cleared to land.”
Less than a mile separated the two planes but there was a huge differences in captain’s pay. Donnie was making about $22,000 a year. His counterpart on the United 737 was making over $100,000 a year. They were both headed for the same runway in the same condition. The United was down and clear of the runway. It was Donnie’s turn.
“Approach lights at twelve o’clock, go visual,” his co-pilot called out. Donnie had flown the approach to precision and the proof came as he looked out the windshield. Directly in front of the windshield and clearly visible through the blowing snow was the running rabbit light that guided them to the runway.
“Nasty night, huh guys,” the freight agent said as Donnie and his co-pilot entered the freight company shack. Their plane was already being unloaded and the freight was being reloaded on the DC-9 bound for Dayton, Ohio.
‘Did the Beech 18 get in?” one of the other pilots asked.
“Not yet,” the freight agent answered.
"That old 18 isn't gonna make it tonight," a young Lear co-pilot said confidently as he looked at the light snow coming down. "We got our teeth kicked out when we came across the front range. If he tries to fly that old bucket of bolts in here, he’ll bring in more ice than freight. I bet they turned back."
"Five bucks says they make it," came the quick reply from one of the station agents.
“You’re on.”
The radio started to crackle in the background. They could hear the ground controller give the Beach 18 clearance to taxi to the freight ramp.
The crusty old pair of pilots laughed when the young jet pilot asked them how they managed to fly the old plane through all of that mountain turbulence, ice and snow.
"Tonight was a little rough," the old 18 captain said as he grinned and gulped a swallow of six hour old coffee. "My co-pilot looked out the right side and saw an elk looking down at us. For a minute, I wasn't exactly sure which canyon we were in. Almost clipped a semi along I-25 on the way in here."
The crews were soon on the way to the crew motel. Mexican cuisine and burgers. A very dimly lit bar. Worn out mattresses. A perfect place for freighter pilots.
"Did you hear Delta is hiring?" one pilot said as they all sat in the dimly lit bar eating a taco.
"Yeah, but they only hire Air Force jocks," another added. "I think I'm going to try to get on with that new Federal Express outfit. They're going places."
"Federal Express! All they've got are those three old Falcon 20's. It's no different than this."
"Hang in there, man. Eastern and Pan Am are going to be hiring in a couple of months," added another pilot.
"I've got a buddy who just got on with Frontier. Anybody know what's going on at Western?"
"Remember Scott, the Falcon 20 guy who used to come in here? He got a break and got on with that new People's Express airline. The employees own a big share of it and I hear they have a bunch of instant millionaires. Some people have all of the luck."
"Hey, Dave," one of the LA pilots asked. "How old are you?"
"Thirty two," he answered as he looked up from a plate of tacos and cold refried beans.
"Man, that's too bad. You don't have a chance gettin
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