You want me to what?

My new career has been filled with lots of opportunities to learn new things. I knew, generally, what I would be doing when I started with enXco back on March 19th, but I had no clue as to the nuts and bolts behind the operation. There are those who would argue that I’ve been clueless as long as you’ve known me, but now I was taking that reality to a whole new level.
Anyone who has started a new job will tell you that it is very uncomfortable and you feel pretty much like an idiot for a minimum of three to six months. I’ve asked for an extension on that this time around.
My first week here I was getting instruction that, as far as I could tell, was being delivered in Greek. The first person at the office who was saddled with the task of “teaching this old dog some new tricks” was actually a young man from France. Anthony was a busy young Frenchman, and didn’t have a lot of time to spend on instruction. This time the degree of difficulty for this unfortunate young man was set pretty high. A middle-aged former editor (who had ruined his hearing by playing in rock and roll bands for 24 years) was attempting to learn a new profession that was seemingly being spoken in Greek with a French accent. Anyone who has watched a movie with me knows that my level of comprehension dips mightily when someone speaks to me in any dialect but Upper Midwestern.
Despite my mental and aural handicaps, young Anthony did leave me with enough information to help me muddle through the two-inch thick textbook and learn a lot on my own in the ensuing weeks, long after he was back in the relative safety of his homeland.
I would guess that the haunting image of my glazed-over eyes and dumbfounded expression still sneaks in and out of his nightmares.
Many times over the past few weeks when I would explain to friends, family or acquaintances where I was working, there would be a brief, uncomfortable silence when he or she would be mulling over the idea of asking something like, “they don’t have you climbing towers, do they?” Usually I could detect a slightly bemused look spread across the face, as if he or she were picturing just such a scenario. At that point I would proceed to reveal that I am doing a variety of computer-based tasks for the company, which would generally elicit a relieved nod of the head. Most would stop short of a wiping of the brow and uttering, “whew.”
Bear with me as I attempt to explain what I do…
I work at enXco’s Operations Control Center, a 24/7 facility where we watch wind turbine sites across the country, not only for enXco, but also for several other companies. Our operators watch for problems with the individual turbines, and can shut down, restart or report problems with turbines as far away as Hawaii…all from little old Chandler, Minnesota. My main duties in the coming months will be to design the computer screen interfaces with which these sites are monitored.
I have also been entrusted with a host of other jobs, including installing software, generating an occasional report and, well, counting the money out of the pop machines.
No, they don’t let me climb towers.
The software I will be using to create the screen pages is complicated, and requires some extensive training. I wasn’t even a week into my new job when my boss, Lyrae, called me into her office and informed me that I would need to attend three days of classes.
No problem, I thought, I could spend a couple nights in the Cities, or Mankato or even Rochester in the name of getting smarter.
“As a matter of fact,” she revealed, “there is a session in San Francisco next week. Would you be available?”
I think I might have actually managed to suppress the sound that a 51-year-old-never-flown-and-never-wants-to-fly person makes in the back of his throat when his airway attempts to restrict the free flow of oxygen into the body.
At the time, I was in the middle of directing the spring play at the Opera House and wouldn’t be able to get away…to Mankato OR San Francisco.
I explained that I had a previous commitment, which, as it turned out, wasn’t a problem to Lyrae.
“And besides,” I said, “I don’t fly.”
She replied that this was no problem, and we would work out something else.
To me, “something else” was probably taking an online course, or finding someplace within driving distance.
I was wrong.
A week later Lyrae walks past my desk and says, “I need you to go online and decide which training session you want to attend.” Figuring I could also possibly choose between maybe Sioux Falls or Des Moines, I went to the software company’s website to choose a location for my intensive training. My choices? Houston, Texas in April, or Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in May.
“Yeah,” I extolled, “the only choices right now are Houston and Philadelphia and…um…as I mentioned before, I don’t fly.”
“Pick one,” Lyrae replied, “and book your flight as soon as possible.”
Not wanting to be a difficult employee, I fought down the urge to once more convey the fact that I had no desire to be hurtled through the air in a giant death machine. I swallowed hard and booked a flight for April 27th out of Sioux Falls.
Destination: Houston.
I had just turned over my oh-so-short life to the hands of the people at United Airlines, knowing all along that neither Michael Jackson nor I was old enough to die.
As it would turn out, one of us would not live to see July.Next week’s blog will attempt to answer the question, “how did I end up in New Orleans?”