After nearly fifteen years in a previous career, I’m coming up for two years in the RHS of a turboprop, and still as happy as a dog with two willies.
But that’s just me – other people’s attitudes to this job vary widely depending on their background (perspective if you will) and the company they end up flying for. I was fortunate to qualify at the peak of the job market, very fortunate to find an airline job within a couple of months, and
extremely fortunate to work for an outfit that’s as secure as anyone, doesn’t expect its pilots to pay for type ratings, and isn’t out to screw us at every opportunity. Many people are less fortunate, which might explain some of the responses on this thread.
In my experience, the jaded, cynical and downright miserable sods you occasionally meet (and every airline has them) are generally people who have spent their entire careers flying aeroplanes, and have known nothing else. Career-changers are often more positive, probably because we have experienced the ‘real’ world, and appreciate that airline life – despite all its downsides – compares rather well.
And it’s worth repeating the downsides, if only to temper that rose tinted view of commercial flying that wannabes inevitably have. I don’t enjoy getting up at 3am to scrape ice off the car, and after a couple of earlies I’m frankly knackered (note that certain low-costs will roster you an entire week of earlies in one go). When you look up at vapour trails in a clear blue sky, remember that we also fly around in quite horrible weather, often into pretty demanding airfields, and are expected to do so safely and consistently. Try dodging CBs and icing all the way down the Channel, then fighting your way into Guernsey with a 200’ cloudbase and 30kt crosswind, doubtless with an autopilot that doesn’t want to play. Maybe on your sixth sector of the day. Repeat
ad nauseum.
If weather raises your blood-pressure, that’s nothing compared to airport ‘security’, many of whom would fail selection at McDonald’s, but have the capacity to ruin your day before it even starts (by, for example, refusing to let you take your flightcase through on the grounds that a catch is jammed on the front flap, meaning “we can’t search it”, even though it has been accepted in that condition, day-in, day-out for over a year).
When you finally get on board the aircraft, you’ll spend the day locked in an office with the dimensions (and often the smells) of a downstairs loo. Maybe with someone you don’t particularly like. Go flying, and the boxes in the back monitor everything you do – step outside ‘safe’ parameters for a few seconds and mission control will know about it in real time. Expect a message waiting when you switch on your mobile, inviting you to a hats-on interview to explain your actions. In slow time.
And then there’s the sim. Find me another profession where you effectively resit your final exams every six months for your entire career. They’ll tell you it’s “testing with a small ‘t’ and training with a big ‘t’ ” – except that it isn’t, because your performance (and grade) will depend in large part on whether you’re in during the day or the wee-small hours, and whether you have a sympathetic trainer or an egoist who gets off on breaking people.
Social life can be difficult – holidays must be booked six months in advance, and short-notice parties or family get-togethers are nigh-on impossible. I could go on; medicals, job insecurity, jobsworths, disruptive passengers, schedule disruption, inane rostering, etc etc.
And yet I still love the job, so much so that I miss it after a few days off. I love the mental and technical challenge of flying a plane-load of passengers from A to B safely, smoothly and efficiently. I get a buzz from executing a well-flown CDA without touching VNAV (I know, I’m sad). I love flying over my house at 7am, drinking bad coffee and watching the sun rise above a sea of cotton wool, knowing that all the miserable commuters that I used to share a train with are still standing on exactly the same spot on a cold, wet platform, waiting for the exactly the same train that they have always caught, and always will. Most of all, I just love flying; flying it as smoothly as I can, hand-flying, and even the occasional 30-knot crosswind landing. Just not into Guernsey.
That’s my ‘truth’ about being a pilot – I’m an enthusiast and for me it’s one of the best jobs in the world. I can’t imagine doing anything else. There are as many other stories as there are pilots, and it would be wise to listen to as many of them as possible before making your own mind up whether this is the career for you.