New Kid on the Block

"Atlanta Ops, "NewCo Fifty-eight seventy-six."

The operations frequency is quiet.

"Atlanta Ops, NewCo 5876, over."

Still nothing. I wait thirty seconds before keying the mike again.

"Atlanta Ops, NewCo 5876, anyone home?"

Finally, the silence is broken by an anonymous jokester: "You must be new to Atlanta, NewCo...you generally call twice before giving up, landing, and taxiing around aimlessly until someone marshals you in!"

As a matter of fact, we are new to Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, the world's busiest airfield and our new corporate overlord's largest hub. NewCo started service from ATL to CLT and SDF on October 1st, so this is the first time flying in for both my FO and I. In fact, this four day trip has us flying in and out of Atlanta multiple times; not until the last day do we see any of RedCo's hubs, a very rare occurrence indeed. When I first saw this trip, I tried to trade out of it simply because flying anywhere on the fourth day of service is begging for complications. I prefer to let other people work out the kinks and report back before I sally forth into the unknown. This time, though my guinea pig role was unavoidable thanks to inadequate reserve coverage to do any trip trading, a semi-permanent state of affairs at NewCo.

Flying to any airport for the first time is bound to get an airline pilot's blood pressure up just a little bit. I know there are dozens of corporate pilots rolling their eyes at that statement, and yes, we airline pilots have it easy flying into the same couple dozen airports most of the time. I think the fact that we rely on our routines so heavily is the only reason we even batt an eyelash at landing somewhere we've never been. Knowing little things like the preferred arrival routes, most commonly assigned crossing altitudes, vectoring patterns, common taxi routes, location of gates, operations frequency, availability of services, and where to get your paperwork all cut down on workload and generally make everything run smoother. The first few times into an airport, you're collecting all these tidbits for future use. If it's a small, uncongested field, there's little stress because if there's something you're not sure about, it's a simple matter of keying the mike and asking someone.

An airport like Atlanta is another matter. The workload is quite a bit higher to begin with, giving you less time to look up information and think through problems. Air traffic control frequencies are congested and the controllers much less disposed to answering neophytes' dumb questions. There's certainly some peer pressure involved in that you don't care to look stupid in front of so many other pilots, particularly when your company is brand new to the airport. The consequences of screwing up are higher; a minor error that might go unnoticed or unpunished in Minot is more likely to earn you a trip to the chief pilot's office or a call from the feds when made in Atlanta. So while I'm comfortable flying in and out of other busy airports like DFW, IAH, PHL, EWR, and JFK, flying into a place like Atlanta for the first time does spark some apprehension.

Thorough preparation helps. On the first leg down to Charlotte, I carefully studied the charts for Atlanta. There are quite a few arrival routes, so I only looked at the most likely ones for an arrival from the northeast. The airport familiarization plates indicated that when landing east, 8L, 9R, and 10 are the most likely arrival runways, while 8R and 9L are primarily used for departures. Our company-issued airport information chart (we call it the "ten dash seven" due to its Jeppesen indexing label, 10-7) indicated that NewCo uses gates B11 through B19, which would involve a taxi to Apron Two or Apron Three. I traced possible taxi routes on the airport diagram, memorizing the names of the major taxiways paralleling the runways. Of course we will consult the diagram when ATC assigns us a taxi route, but knowing roughly where to look for a particular taxiway reduces head-down time significantly. Ramp control frequencies are one of the few things whose location is not standardized on Jepp charts, so I looked up the frequencies for Aprons Two and Three on the 10-9B chart and jotted them down. Moving on to the approach plates, I looked over the ILS 8L, 9R, and 10 charts. I noted that each runway also has a ILS PRM plate for simultaneous close parallel approaches. We're authorized for PRM approaches, I've seen the training video so many times I can almost recite it verbatim, and have flown into a number of airports with PRM approaches - but I had never actually flown one. Our ten dash seven didn't mention to expect PRM approaches so I didn't think much about it.

The flight from Charlotte to Atlanta is a fairly short one. Before departure, my FO and I talked over our assigned arrival route into Atlanta and expected approach there in addition to our normal clearance briefing. I pulled all the charts that I expected to use out of my thick Jepp binders and placed them in the ship's clipboard behind the Charlotte charts. There was little left to do. The weather in Atlanta was kind of lousy. It had been raining all day, and the ceiling was hanging around 800 feet. We took off from Charlotte and turned westward, popping above the clouds into the glare of the evening sun. I realized that we would be arriving around sunset, which would make for a darkened airport under the overcast skies. A rainy night isn't exactly the ideal time to grope your way around an unfamiliar airport.

Now, 100 miles northeast of Atlanta, I come back from my one-sided conversation with Operations to find that Atlanta Center assigned us a new arrival in my absence. Our dispatcher had filed the WHINZ One arrival, and Center wants us on the FLCON Three. I make a mental note to call our dispatcher after the flight to inform him of the preferred route as I entered the new arrival, get a thumbs-up from my FO, and hit "Activate." We are soon cleared to cross DIRTY at 14000, and begin our descent shortly thereafter. We decide that an ILS to 8L is most likely from this arrival, and I brief the approach. I put it in the FMS and we each set the frequency, inbound course, and minimums. After completing the descent checklist, I make a short PA and call Atlanta Operations again. This time they answer, informing us that we can expect gate B18.

When I reselect VHF1 in my comm panel, my FO is just checking in with Atlanta Approach. They inform us that we can expect a ILS PRM Approach to 8L. We both pull out the plate and start reviewing it for changes from the normal ILS. There aren't many: the primary difference of a PRM approach is the requirement to monitor a backup frequency on your VHF2 radio. Controllers are carefully monitoring all aircraft to make sure nobody strays far from their ILS, and if one does blunder into the "No Transgression Zone" the controller will issue an immediate breakout to any other aircraft nearby. The backup frequency ensures that a stuck mike or long-winded pilot cannot prevent the controller from promptly issuing breakout instructions. There are a few other considerations; we quickly read a PRM briefing page to review all the procedures.

We are almost to the point of turning downwind for 8L when Atlanta Approach turns us to a southerly heading, clears us direct to BOJAA, and tells us to expect an ILS PRM to Runway 10. We hunt around the arrival plate for the fix, find it, punch it into the FMS, get the autopilot recoupled to NAV, put the approach in the FMS, and dig through our charts for the ILS PRM 10 plate. By the time we have set up for the new approach and briefed it, Approach is already turning us for a tight-in right base leg. I quickly note our likely exit taxiway and potential routes for the long taxi back to the terminal complex. We are cleared for the approach, and I select the backup frequency in VHF2 and our comm panels.

We break out of the clouds just above 1000 feet to the welcome sight of approach lights guiding us to the well-lit runway. It is indeed dark down here in the driving rain underneath thick clouds. I move the windshield wipers to "fast" and the view clears a little. My FO makes a beautiful landing on the wet runway and we decelerate evenly to a crawl before I take the controls and exit on Taxiway Sierra Golf 14. It's a high-speed exit but I'm paranoid about turning too fast off of a wet runway, particularly at night when it's difficult to assess whether the runway is doing a good job of draining the water and staying uncontaminated.

Tower tells us to follow a WidgetCo 737 westbound on Sierra Golf, hold short of 9R on Romeo Three, and monitor tower one one niner point three. The 737 is already a ways ahead of us and taxiing rather fast. It's still raining hard and I can barely see the taxiway centerlines; even lighted taxiway signs are a little tough to spot. I reach taxiway Sierra Juliet in time to spy the 737 at its end turning left onto Romeo. I figure he'll be long gone by the time we get to Romeo Three but the route to get there is now obvious. We hold short of 9R for several arrivals before tower clears us to cross and contact ground "point seven five."

That controller clears us "November, Papa, cross 9L, Lima to the Ramp." I stop for a moment to verify the route on our map and the ground controller barks at us to get moving, we have traffic crossing 9R behind us. My FO assures me that it's a left turn on November so I make the turn before glancing at the airport diagram. We're basically taxiing back to the departure end of 9L to cross there, since all the departures use 9L at Mike Two. I would later discover that the north complex has a similar arrangement, using taxiway Victor to route arrivals around the departure end of 8R without getting in departing aircraft's way. This is rather different from most airports with inboard/outboard arrival and departure runways, like LAX; there, arrivals are usually held short of the departure runway around midfield and then crossed during a pause in the takeoffs. Atlanta's system results in long after-landing taxis, but also allows them to sling out departures at a very high rate.

NASA once did an aeromedical study in which they hooked airline pilots up to a variety of sensors and then measured how much stress they experienced during the various phases of a normal line flight. As expected, cruise flight was very relaxed, takeoffs somewhat stressful, and the approach and landing phase considerably more so. The surprise was that taxiing caused stress levels only slightly below landing, and parking the airplane registered the highest stress levels of all! This may surprise outsiders but it meshes with what every airline pilot knows: airline ramps are busy, chaotic places where you stand the best chance of bending metal in your career. You are maneuvering much closer to a wide variety of other airplanes, are often assisted by less-than-attentive wing walkers, and there are suicidal tugs, catering trucks, and bag carts constantly darting in front of you. Meanwhile you're looking for your gate, which is quite often occupied regardless of what operations and/or ramp control said, and likely has at least one piece of ground equipment out of position in the safety zone. Managing all these threats can be stressful on a bright sunny day, much less a dark, rainy night.

As we approach spot Two South, my FO contacts Ramp Control and they direct us into the west lane to hold abeam gate Alpha Five for traffic. A B757 is pushing from A9, and a MD90 is waiting for his gate to open up abeam B6. The B757 crew tells their tug driver to pull them forward enough for us to slip over to the east lane between him and the MD90, and on to our empty gate. As we approach the gate, wingwalkers sprint out to their positions, to my astonishment. I would see this performance repeated at the B gates several times over the next few days. When I mentioned this to a WidgetCo pilot, he laughed and said he's never seen a ramper hurry in Atlanta. We just happened to have an exceptional supervisor with a motivated crew.

What we do not have, however, is a marshaller. We stop and wait. Nobody shows up. There is a green light above the gate. Do we use an auto-park system in Atlanta? Our company ten dash seven page doesn't say anything about it... but those pages tend to omit a lot of helpful details in the early stages of service to an airport. Eventually the light turns red and a marshaller appears and vigorously waves us in. Well, okay then. I throttle up, glide into the gate, brake to a gentle halt, and then we go through our parking flows and checklist. After the passengers have deplaned, the friendly ramp supervisor comes up and tells us how to use the auto-park system. Would've been nice to know that beforehand, but he's been dealing with enough puzzled NewCo pilots over the last few nights that he knew to jump in right away and marshal us manually. I later find details on the auto-park system in a bulletin that the company quietly slipped into the FOM.

When I walk out of the jetway, the gate area is a sea of humanity; it's going to be a full load to Louisville. The paperwork is still printing so I saunter up the B concourse, scoping out the food court and grabbing a coffee. I reflect on the short flight. It was a pretty normal leg, really, even with the weather and the PRM approach. It was only stressful because I didn't completely know what to expect beforehand. Over the next few days, I fly in and out of Atlanta several times, and it gets easier and easier as I learn how they do things. For an airport handling 2700 flights a day, everything flows pretty smoothly. Of course I haven't seen Atlanta during thunderstorm season yet; I'm sure that'll be the source of a few good blog posts come next summer.

Construction

"NewCo fifty-seven fourteen, holding instructions for you, advise ready to copy."

My First Officer looks up from the FOM he is studying in preparation for an upcoming training event and gives me a quizzical look. "Was that for us?" he asks.

"NewCo 5714, you copy Minneapolis Center?"

Well shoot, it was for us. NewCo recently switched their flight numbers from the 1800-2099 range to the 5700-5999 range, and I'm not quite used to listening for the new numbers. I grab the release and a pen. "Center, NewCo 5714, sorry 'bout that. Ready to copy."

"Minneapolis Center clears NewCo 5714 to SKETR intersection, hold southwest as published, twenty mile legs approved, expect further clearance two two five five zulu, time now two one five niner zulu."

I read back the clearance and begin entering the hold into the Flight Management System by selecting "Hold" from the NAV page, then entering it over SKETR on the Flight Plan page. This brings up a form where I enter the inbound course, leg length, holding airspeed and altitude, and expect further clearance (EFC) time. Punching the 6R line select key inserts the hold into the flight plan, displaying the proposed route in white dashes on my MFD's map display. My FO looks over to verify that the hold looks correct, gives me a thumbs up, and I hit 6R again to activate the flight plan. The FMS takes about ten seconds to recompute everything - I've become so used to it that I no longer make 286 processor jokes - and then displays the hold in solid white on the map display, signifying that it is indeed active. At this point, the FMS will automatically choose the correct holding entry, enter the hold, and continue until we tell it to do otherwise. It's a mockery of all that holding practice over NDBs in 30 knot crosswinds that I did as a young pup.

"Wonder what's going on in Minneapolis?" my FO muses. I shrug and request a new D-ATIS from the FMS' ACARS menu. It takes about thirty seconds to pop up; it's still the same ATIS I pulled up about 30 minutes ago. The weather isn't too bad: 2100 foot ceiling, eight miles visibility, winds out of the north at 15 knots. That last item is likely the cause of the delays. Runway 12L/30R is under construction, and Minneapolis is down to three runways that all intersect or nearly intersect each other: 30R/12L, 35/17, and 4/22. So long as the weather is nice and the winds are light or from the south, ATC can keep things humming along smoothly with approaches to runways 17 and 22 (land and hold short of 17) while they fire departures off 12R in quick succession. Meanwhile ground control lines up all the crossing traffic on each side of 12R and crosses them en masse whenever departures pause for an arrival to 22. It's a thing of beauty to watch when everything is running smoothly.

It doesn't take much to mess up the plan, though. Marginal weather takes away Land and Hold Short Operations (LAHSO) so that the arrivals must be staggered, or else ATC will use 17 as the sole arrival runway. If the ceiling gets much lower, it takes away both 22 and 17 for arrivals since those runways are served only by localizer approaches with fairly high minimums. In this case arrivals use 12R and departures use 17, which really gums up the works. Winds from the north, while not as problematic as a low ceiling, do also slow things down. Since the construction began in early September, ATC has become very good at predicting how the weather will affect the maximum arrival rate and issuing ground holds accordingly to make sure the arrival banks don't all arrive at once. This is only the second time I've had to hold so far.

Entering the hold into the FMS automatically changed the Estimated Time of Arrival and Estimated Fuel at Arrival display to reflect the extra 45 minutes of holding at FL240 and 230 knots. It's a nice feature that can make a captain lazy. However, I'm rather mistrusting of machines in general and of the JungleBus' Flight Management System in particular. If there's anything I've learned in two years of flying the JungleBus, it's to not believe a thing its computers tell me. Every software patch that fixes one bug seems to introduce two new ones. It's very reliable for navigating from point A to point B, it's just the theoretically labor-saving features like VNAV and fuel management that give us plenty of "what's it doing now?" moments.

Therefore I pick up a pen and paper to do some quick and dirty figuring. I conclude that this time the airplane is not lying to me and we will indeed land right at what I consider to be our minimum arrival fuel - 5200 lbs, enough to go to our alternate of Rochester plus 3000 pounds of reserve fuel. This is slightly more than the minimum fuel shown on the release, because their reserve is based upon 45 minutes of long-range cruise at 10,000 feet and is generally 2200-2400 pounds. I don't ever want to land with that little fuel in the tanks so I use a more conservative number. I add the fuel burn from SKETR to the airport to that minimum arrival fuel, throw in a few extra hundred pounds for vectoring, and write down our "Bingo" fuel number on the release after discussing it with the FO. We will reach it right at our current EFC time. Fortunately our dispatchers have been very liberal with holding fuel throughout the construction.

It's time to let our dispatcher know what's going on. I text him our holding point, EFC, altitude, fuel on board, and my calculated bingo fuel. A few minutes later he texts back an acknowledgement along with his own calculated bingo fuel, which of course is 800 lbs less than my number. We enter the hold and I make a short PA to the passengers about the delay.

After about twenty minutes in the hold, I start hearing Minneapolis Center extending other flights' EFC times. Several divert to their alternate airports. I query whether our 2255Z EFC is still holding up, and Center replies that it is - for now. I check the Minneapolis weather again. It's still good. The reality is that my bingo fuel number is a little more conservative than it needs to be, because it assumes that I'll be vectored for the approach, fly it to minimums, go missed approach, and then fly to Rochester. Diverting from SKETR - or even from any part of the downwind or base leg for Runway 35 - will require a lot less fuel. My FO and I discuss the fact that an alternate isn't legally required; we could have our dispatcher remove it and hold for a while longer, but still divert once we got down to 3000 lbs plus the fuel needed to reach Rochester. In the end, I decide not to officially remove the alternate, but to use our dispatcher's bingo fuel number instead of mine. The reality is that once we get past SKETR, the likelihood of a diversion drops to near zero and some 4600 pounds of fuel in the tanks on landing in MSP is plenty in this situation. The difference gives us almost twenty extra minutes of holding.

It turns out that we don't need it; as if to mock all my contingency planning, Minneapolis Center clears us past SKETR twenty minutes before our EFC, and we land with 6200 pounds of fuel remaining. It takes us a while to reach our gate on the G concourse because the departure lineup for 30L extends all the way to Runway 22! Thankfully, the backlog has mostly cleared out by the time we leave an hour later. I smile as we climb westward into the setting sun. We're going to Montana, where the beer is good, the gate agents are friendly, and even airports under construction are blissfully delay-free.

Keep Your Nose Clean!

Of the several insightful comments to my last post, this one by Ron Rapp really struck home for me:

I would add another suggestion to your excellent list: if you do have a flying job, don't drop the ball there.

I mention this because many of us who are "in the pipeline" flying full time have probably been at that job for a couple of years, maybe more. These are often jobs which traditionally have high turnover rates. However, with the industry at a standstill, nobody is leaving. So nobody is upgrading. And that poor FO who's been stuck in the right seat for two years when he'd normally upgrade in 5-6 months might be getting antsy.

My advice: stick with it. Don't get sloppy on the job. Maintain a good work ethic. Why? Because someday this pipeline will start flowing again, and when it does, that Dream Job you're going to apply for may hinge on what your current employer says about you.

This is something that rarely gets talked about. Those of us working our way up the ladder tend to be very focused on our career paths, always planning that next move. Of course we learn along the way and strive to become experts at our current job, but that's pretty natural when your job, position, or aircraft is changing every year or two. You take a job, get really good at it, and move onto the next step. It's certainly not a bad thing, steady advancement, but we've become so accustomed to it that many pilots have no experience in cooling their heels at one job, one position, one airplane for an indefinite period of waiting for things to get moving again. Those who are unprepared, those who had been expecting best-case career scenarios, may find disillusionment, boredom, complacency, or even a disregard for procedures and regulations creeping into their professional life.

I have some experience in this. My last airline, Horizon, has had a very stagnant seniority list since 2001. When I was hired in 2004, upgrade times were finally falling and there was a lot of talk of further expansion. It never happened; by 2007, upgrades were approaching seven years. Captains would comment on how the most senior FOs tended to be the most difficult to fly with, those most prone to either Captainitis or being relaxed to a fault. I felt it myself as I gained experience and advancement remained well out of reach. I became frustrated, and it affected my attitude towards my work. Going back through the blog posts from my last year at Horizon, I can see it in my writing. It was one of the factors that prompted me to seek a change, with the final result being my move to NewCo.

Since I left Horizon, the airline has continued to shrink as they traded Dash-8-200s for a lesser number of Q400s; they're now talking of getting rid of their fleet of CRJ-700's by sometime next year. Fifteen percent of the pilot group is furloughed. The most junior Captain is a 2000 hire, with more downgrades (and furloughs) in the works. Unlike 2007, there are no options for trapped FOs to go somewhere else. They are stuck unless they leave the industry altogether. I keep in contact with my Horizon friends, and their frustration is palpable every time I call them.

While I was in Portland this week, I went to see my friends T & J. We go back to April 2004, when I was J's sim partner during initial training. Dawn and I became friends with her and her husband T, who was hired at Horizon about a year after us. We hiked, sailed, and barbecued together when we lived in Portland; now I try to visit them when I'm in town, but otherwise we talk on the phone every few months.

Within minutes of sitting down at T & J's kitchen counter to shoot the breeze, it was obvious that something was wrong. J was visibly distraught. The story soon came out: she had been the First Officer on the runway overrun incident in Bellingham last month. I felt a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as she recounted what happened. It sounded as though things were fairly normal right up until the end. The Captain, who was new to the Q400, simply carried too much speed and then floated a good portion down the runway. If he had just chopped the power they probably would have made it; the Q400 will land at almost any speed once you reduce power in the flare, and those 13' propellers are extremely effective in beta. In any case, they came to rest only 50 feet past the end of the runway, with no injuries and not much damage to the airplane.

Although she was both FO and PNF, J received the same discipline as the Captain: a two month suspension without pay. At least she kept her job; others in the same situation have not been so lucky. The FAA, too, is being lenient by accepting retraining in lieu of taking certificate action. Still, an incident like this on one's record is a big stumbling block on one's career path. As I listened to J's woeful story, it struck me that she may have just become another Horizon lifer.

That gnawing in the pit of my stomach was partly pity for my friend's plight, but also uneasy recognition that this could've just as easily happened to me. J is a good pilot. She did great during initial training and the Captains I flew with all spoke highly of her. I knew she was frustrated over the lack of advancement at Horizon, but was still positive about flying. Her mistake that night was not especially egregious; she probably should have been more vocal about the Captain's excess speed, but nobody is feeling particularly vocal at midnight after a long day of flying. We've all been there.

The reality is that you don't even need an accident or incident like this one to mess up your career. A FAA violation will do just nicely; even a simple Letter of Correction in your file will require explanation at all subsequent interviews. A firing, even from a basic job like flight instructing, can prove to be problematic. FAA and employer action aside, aviation is an amazingly small world, and like Ron hinted, there's a pretty good chance your reputation will precede you on job hunts. A good reputation is worth more than a logbook full of multi time.

So while everyone plays the waiting game, don't simply bide your time. Do everything you can to become an expert at your job, and then up your guard against complacency. As my friend's experience shows, a career-changing (or worse, life-threatening) situation can develop in a matter of seconds, and you need to be mentally prepared for it. In the meantime, you never know who's watching and how they will influence your career down the road.

Aviation Survivorman

These are dark times for a great many people in aviation (and outside aviation too, for that matter). Thousands in our industry have lost their jobs with little hope of finding a replacement, others have seen their incomes shrink with downgrades and displacements, and things could potentially get much worse with a few airlines - mainline and regional - teetering on the brink of oblivion. The economy seems to be getting better, but the twin threat of rising oil prices and an international flu pandemic leaves some of us wondering if that light at the end of the tunnel isn't just a freight train about to run us over!

As was heavily discussed in the comments to my last post, prospects are particularly bleak for the newest entrants to the piloting profession - those who have just completed their training, or are in the middle of it, or have just started. The traditional first timebuilding jobs are somewhat scarcer than in years past, and the few new openings are quickly snapped up by experienced, out-of-work pilots. With a pocketful of expensive licenses and ratings but little chance of getting a flying job that will support them or even build time, these pilots have to be frightened at the prospect of these conditions lasting for several more years. It's as if they are seeing their careers die before they ever began.

Here's the good news: aviation has been a cyclical industry throughout its existence. Things will get better, and when they do I think they will get dramatically better. The other thing to recognize is that there have been plenty of other downturns that resulted in conditions just like these, and many pilots, including those at the major airlines, have experienced similar stagnation early in their careers. The 70s, 80s, and 90s each had a number of slump years where nothing was moving for civilian pilots. The post-9/11 downturn was the worst of all, but it mostly affected pilots at the major airline level. Their misfortune resulted in large growth for regional and low-cost airlines, and that kept things moving for low-time pilots. We've become so used to plentiful opportunities for new entrants over the last 15 years that this downturn sounds to many like the thundering crash of the career door slamming closed, never to reopen. It will; it always has.

The intent of this post, however, is not so much encouragement as practical advice that new pilots can use right now. Most of the career advice out there, particularly from the eternally-optimistic flight training industry, assumes that jobs will be available and one will be able to advance one's career steadily, if not downright speedily. That's clearly not the case and vastly changed conditions call for drastically altered career strategies.

It seems to me that the worst of the carnage is over and, unless certain airlines go belly-up, we won't see large numbers of additional furloughs. Still, I foresee things remaining essentially static for several years until the first wave of Age-65 retirements begin and the economy gains enough traction to prompt widespread airline growth. Nobody is really going anywhere else; most are stuck in whatever position they hold now. Time is essentially frozen; we're all just playing the waiting game. That's a lot easier for those of us who have decent jobs and a livable wage; for the newest entrants, it's nearly unbearable. I suspect that many of these will give up and leave the industry before things turn around. Those who hope to still have an aviation career on the other side are engaged in a grinding war of attrition. Survival is the name of the game; putting oneself in a position to benefit from the upswing is an important but secondary consideration. The following are some tips that I think will help with these twin goals.

• If you currently have a job outside of aviation, keep it. If you've already quit but have a marketable skill-set that will allow you to get a decent job for the next 2-4 years, concentrate on doing so. I know that most career-changers are getting into aviation precisely because they couldn't stomach their old jobs; you need to approach this with the mindset that it is a temporary, necessary step to launching your aviation career. You will quit as soon as you can get a full-time aviation job, but in the meantime it is necessary to have an income stream to live on, train on, and save some money for the paycut your first aviation job will inevitably entail.

• If you have no marketable skill outside of aviation, consider going (or going back) to school to get one. You'll experience more than one downturn in your career and you'll be much better prepared for the next one if you have a second skill to fall back on. If the major airlines are your goal, most require a four-year degree anyway. Meanwhile, a few years away from this labor market isn't a bad thing; student loans, which will be deferred during your schooling, can include living expenses and even flight training expenses if your school offers aviation courses. I'm going to definitively say that you should stay away from expensive aviation programs like UND and Embry-Riddle; the student loan debt will be simply too crushing once you're out in the "real world," potentially making little money in entry-level jobs for several years. If you need to complete flight training while in school, look for a state school with cheap tuition and a small aviation department that contracts out flight training to a local FBO, and either get an aviation minor to go along with your non-aviation major, or take the aviation courses on an elective basis.

• Don't rush your flight training. The flight training industry insists that because "seniority is everything," you ought to shell out ridiculous amounts of money for their accelerated 9-month programs. If you were beginning your training at the start of an upswing they might have a point, but in this case finishing early just means that much more time sitting unemployed, with more debt (or less of a nest-egg to live on)! If you can save money by searching out a good instructor at a smaller flight school and training part-time while still working outside aviation and paying as you go, you'll find yourself well positioned to make the jump to full-time flying as timebuilding jobs open up in a few years.

• This is connected to the last point, but if there's any way it is humanly possible to complete your training debt-free or with as little debt as possible, do it. Jobs like flight instructing, freight dogging, and regional airline FO don't pay much, but it generally is enough for a single person (or married with a working spouse) to live on - unless they're also paying $500-1000/month to service student loan debt. Not having that hanging over you will really free up options later on, and right now in this industry you need every bit of flexibility you can get.

• Building flight time after earning your ratings is important, but in the absence of available full-time jobs, concentrate on maintaining currency. Landing that first job with minimal flight time has always been tough, but it's a lot easier if you can show that you've been at least consistently flying. You may need to rent an airplane on your own dime a few times a month. Use the time to improve the skills needed for whatever full-time job you are pursuing. In other words, if you hope to get an instructing job, fly from the right seat and bring your sister along for free lessons.
  

• There's a natural tendency to concentrate on full-time jobs that quickly fill the logbook and give you the satisfaction of living off of your hard-earned certificates. However, it may be a lot easier to find a part-time job that allows you to keep your non-aviation job while still maintaining currency. Flight instruction, banner towing, and skydiver hauling are three entry-level jobs that all tend to be a lot busier on the weekends. In the case of instructing it can be difficult convincing larger schools to hire you for weekends only, but it's more common at smaller FBOs, especially in rural areas. Being out at the airport at the time when most pilots are makes it that much easier to network and sniff out that full-time job you really want, anyways.
  

• If you can't find anyone to hire you, consider becoming your own boss. Some schools and FBOs take freelance instructors, as do virtually all flying clubs. A more extreme example - but potentially very cost-effective - is buying your own airplane and setting up shop as a Flight School of One. The last few years a lot of larger schools and FBOs sold their older airplanes in favor of new-fangled glass cockpit equipment, and now find that they've priced themselves out of the masses' reach in the downturn. There is a niche to be exploited here by the savvy entrepreneur. You could potentially buy an airplane, do most of your training in it, instruct in it, and then sell it for very close to what you have into it. Your total cost of flying will be a fraction of what it'd be at an accelerated program and airplane ownership will give you a great deal more real-world experience.
  

• Be willing to relocate, globally if need be. The aviation scene might be dead in your city but it may not be a state or two over. If you are a dual citizen or have the right to work in another country, take a very close look at any opportunities there; although the downturn is global, it's mostly US pilots that are suffering the triple whammy of a poor economy, lack of retirements due to age 65, and a glut of qualified pilots. Sponsored expat positions used to be limited to those possessing significant Part 121 command time in specific aircraft types, but this is changing; as foreign countries seek to become more self-sufficient in pilot staffing, they are starting to set up training programs for local pilots on their own soil, creating a need for foreign instructors. I realize relocation can be a problem for those with families, but let's be completely honest: by choosing an aviation career for yourself, you've already sentenced your family to sustained poverty, frequent absences, and perpetual instability. A change of scenery that gets you past the difficult early stages quicker is going to be better for your family in the long run.

• Use this extra waiting time wisely. Don't just run out the clock waiting for things to turn around, actively do everything you can to prepare yourself for when they do. This doesn't have to be expensive; you don't need to fly twice a day at a 9-month zero-to-hero program to eat, sleep, and breath aviation. Read every text you can get your hands on, particularly regarding advanced subjects you won't necessarily cover in training at a small flight school. If you can develop a very thorough understanding of subjects like meteorology and aviation weather, aerodynamics, transport category systems, long-range and oceanic navigation, aeromedical and physiological research, and safety & risk management programs before you even apply for that first job, you'll be far ahead of the average pilot. Likewise, network relentlessly, both at the airport and online. In 2007's job market, basically any bozo with a pulse could get hired at an airline, but in an economy like this it takes knowing people to land even a flight instructing job. The contacts you make and maintain will prove even more valuable in subsequent stages of your career.
  

As I've written previously, I see a critical pilot shortage developing at the regional airlines in 2012-2014; this will present opportunities to make up much of what our profession has lost over the last eight years. In the meantime there are some tough times to slog through. Those who make smart decisions and survive will reap the benefits. If anyone has advice in addition to what I posted above, I'd like to hear it in the comments.

Experience Counts

Over the last week there's been a tremendous outpouring of opinion among pilots regarding the proposed legislation I wrote about in my last post. The most controversial aspect is (predictably) the proposal to require all airline pilots to possess Airline Transport Pilot (ATP) certificates within three years. A fair amount of the opinion I've heard on the web boards, in person, and in the comments on the blog is negative. The two primary objections to the proposal that I've heard are that it represents an undue burden to newer pilots and that increasing experience won't do anything to improve safety. The first argument is understandable and not entirely without merit, but a close examination of conditions in the industry and a peek at future trends ought to ease concerns. The second argument I take much greater issue with; whether advanced out of ignorance or cynical self-interest, it is the same dangerously flawed trope that's never far from the lips of the most noxious CEOs in the airline business. It deserves a spirited rebuttal.

A lot of the alarm being voiced over requiring an ATP for airline newhires comes from those with significantly less experience, particularly those who've already invested a lot of money in training and are now trying to build flight time. I'm sympathetic to these pilots' concerns; having been in their shoes not so long ago, I'm not inclined to pull up the ladder behind me. There are too many people in aviation who are willing to throw those below them to the wolves; it is the exact attitude that gave birth to the cancer that is destroying our profession from the bottom up.

Times are tough for everyone in aviation right now. The major and regional airlines, fractionals, charter operators, and corporate outfits have all laid off thousands of pilots, including several of my friends. I'm still somewhat doubtful that my own job will survive this downturn; reportedly, WidgetCo and RedCo are collectively overstaffed for this winter by as many as 1200 pilots. For those just starting out, openings for the traditional timebuilding jobs are in short supply and competition is fierce. Even those with one of the coveted instructing jobs might not be building very much time: the sorry state of the airlines has killed career-oriented flight training and the economy isn't encouraging anyone to take up an expensive flying hobby, either. On the face of it, adding more restrictions does seem like kicking a guy when he's already down.

The unfortunate reality is that things are so bad right now that this law, if passed, isn't likely to affect anybody currently in aviation, or at least those well along in their training. The few airlines doing limited hiring (including mine) have extremely high competitive minimums. I don't think it's going to change anytime soon. There isn't any attrition at the regionals, and they're not going to grow any further; some will shrink significantly as major airlines attempt to reduce 50-seat lift. There are already many well-qualified airline pilots on the street, and it will get far, far worse if one or more major airlines goes out of business or is acquired this winter. The bottom line is that if you don't already have significant airline experience, you will not likely be hired at an airline in the United States for at least several years whether this law passes or not.

Things will eventually turn around; I personally think that the economy will recover enough to support airline growth at about the same time retirements resume after five years of stagnation, around 2011-12. Once the majors start hiring in large numbers, it's going to cause regional airline attrition to skyrocket. Initially, competitive hiring minimums will stay high as the regionals work through a large backlog of highly qualified pilots (which includes furloughees and those who've been building flight time steadily from now until then). Those currently finding it so difficult to build time will then find timebuilding jobs much easier to come by (assuming they haven't already thrown in the towel). I suspect that even without the proposed law, competitive minimums will remain at or above 1500 hours by the time most of today's commercial pilots reach the regional airlines.

The change of law will primarily affect those who begin training between now and ~2013, particularly those who jump in at the beginning of the next hiring cycle. Absent any changes to legal requirements, the relative lack of new pilots in the intervening years will cause competitive minimums to fall from 1500+ hours to 250 hours very quickly, just as happened in 2006. I'll get to why that would be a very bad thing in a minute, but now I wish to address whether requiring these future pilots to build 1500 hours represents an undue burden. Firstly, they will have entered aviation and paid for their training knowing the 1500 hour requirement. Secondly, the ability to be hired by any airline with less than 1500 hours is a historical anomaly that has only happened a few times throughout the last fifty years. Finally, it is likely that timebuilding jobs will be much more available than today (and better paid!) to those who build their time during the next shortage.

The suggestion that increasing newhire experience will not improve safety puzzles me. For the most part, I've seen it not from aviation newbies but from moderately experienced pilots who were hired at the airlines with low time during the last five years. I can understand why industry groups would fight against the requirement tooth-and-nail, but what motivation can these pilots have? Pride? A wish to justify the route they took to the airlines? I don't blame anybody for accepting a First Officer position with low time; I surely would have done so if I'd had the opportunity. To subsequently claim that the practice was just as safe as hiring more experienced candidates, however, bespeaks ignorance that hints at some of the limitations of inexperience.

I've heard three primary arguments in favor of this assertion. The first is based on personal experience and goes something like "I hired on at XYZ Airlines with 300 hours and didn't have a problem in training or on the line." Obviously, self-critique isn't the best means of judging these things; I'd prefer the opinions of check airmen and the Captains flying with the low-timers. But let's assume that our debate partner's check airmen and Captains agree that he exhibited superior aeronautical knowledge and skill as a low-time new-hire. There isn't a direct parallel to safety here. How many unusual situations happened in this pilot's early career? How many tough decisions? How many times did he have to challenge an off-the-reservation Captain? How many emergencies? Probably few, if any; I've only had a small handful in 4000 hours of airline flying. Airline flying is pretty uneventful most of the time and real tests of one's worth as a pilot come infrequently. It's very possible, even probable, that a low-time pilot will not be truly tested before he gains some experience. One cannot extrapolate this stroke of luck across the industry, because over thousands of flights per day things do happen, and any system that puts thousands of inexperienced pilots in the right seat is guaranteeing that some of them will be called upon in a dicey situation. I haven't flown with many low-time First Officers but some of my friends have, and they generally agree that most of them are fine in normal situations but many are virtually useless when things go wrong. It's not that they're bad pilots, they just haven't experienced many similar situations in their careers yet.

A frequent corollary to the above argument is "I flight instructed for 300 hours, and I fail to see how another 1000 hours of pattern work would have made me a safer pilot." If those 700 hours were flown in the same pattern with the same perfect weather and the same infallible student in a perfectly trustworthy airplane, that might be a good point. The reality is that one will encounter a wide variety of challenging situations in those 1000 hours which will develop decision-making skills, sound judgment, and practice in keeping one's composure in a bind. I scared myself and learned important lessons many, many more times in 2000 hours of instructing and freight dogging than I have in the 4000 hours since; those lessons could fill an entire post. It's worth noting that those who denigrate the value of timebuilding are generally those who didn't do a great deal of it.

The second common argument is that various organizations have employed 250-hour pilots with great success; the most common examples given are the major airlines back in the 60s, the U.S. military, and major airlines in Europe. All three are really apples-to-oranges comparisons. In the case of the major airlines of yesterday (who, by the way, weren't exactly shining examples of aviation safety), new-hires generally spent several years observing experienced pilots as flight engineers, and then moved to the right seat under the tutelage of experienced Captains. The U.S. Air Force, Navy, and Marines do put pilots with as little as 200 hours in command of high-performance fighter jets, but only after a very intensive,lengthy, and costly screening, selection, and training process that weeds out the majority of candidates and leaves only the cream of the crop. The European airlines have a fairly stringent selection process, many do their own ab-initio training, and all require an ATP. Yes, it's a "frozen ATPL" until the pilot builds enough flight time - but unlike the FAA ATP, the flight time is the easy part of earning a JAA ATP. Their ATP is all about demonstrating a command of aviation knowledge far superior to that of most regional newhires in the US (and actually, many Captains as well).

If the regional airlines in the U.S. screened their 250-hour candidates intensively, put them through a lengthy, costly, and difficult training program, required them to demonstrate a knowledge level equivalent to JAA ATPL standards, had them observe line operations for a while, and then paired them with experienced Captains, the above comparisons would be valid and I wouldn't be writing this post because I wouldn't see a problem with 250 hour First Officers. The regional airlines of 2005-07 did none of the above and industry trends suggest that it will be even worse in the next shortage. If regionals were willing to take essentially anyone with a pulse and a commercial certificate after a three-hour interview process, rush them through a training program designed for much more experienced pilots, and throw them on the line after the minimum legal IOE to fly with 2000-hour Captains who just upgraded, what will they do in a deeper and more prolonged shortage at a time when the regionals aren't making the large guaranteed profits of 2005-07? Many industry players have been pushing for the FAA to adopt the Multi-Crew Pilot certificate (MPL) concept developed by ICAO, which would put "pilots" with less than 120 hours of actual flight time into the right seat of airliners. They wouldn't be legal to act as pilot-in-command of a Cessna 150, yet are somehow expected to pull their weight as part of a well-functioning airline crew. If this law does not pass, you can be sure that the RAA will be pushing hard for MPL during the next shortage.

The final argument I've seen is that the airline accident record does not support the idea that inexperienced pilots pose a significant safety risk. Its supporters are quick to point out that both pilots in Colgan 3407 had flight time exceeding ATP minimums, or that the majority of pilot-error airline accidents involve experienced pilots. First off, airline accidents happen so infrequently that accident data alone is a pretty poor metric of aviation safety trends, particularly those involving fairly short-term phenomenon like the three year span in which widespread hiring of pilots with less than ATP minimums was pervasive. Secondly, low-time pilots made up a fairly small portion of all pilots even at airlines that extensively engaged in the practice of hiring low-timers due to the rapid accumulation of flight time, making statistical analysis on the basis of accident rates all the more problematic. I'd be much more interested in a study involving ASAP, NASA, and FOQA data, but no such study has been done.

As for Colgan 3407, I'd argue that experience did play a role, along with many other factors. True, both CA Renslow and FO Shaw had well above ATP minimums, but CA Renslow was fairly inexperienced for a PIC of a 76-seat airliner. That was a direct consequence of Colgan hiring him direct from Gulfstream with 600 hours, very little of which was prior PIC time. It's impossible to know for sure, but one can't help but wonder if more real-world experience before the airlines would have made a difference. Airline flying is an efficient breeder of complacency if one lets his guard down. I know that in my own case, getting bit by complacency a few times early on made me much more wary of it later in my career. The US Navy cited complacency as a primary culprit in their study of aircraft accidents that found Navy pilots were most dangerous between 700 and 900 hours of total time.

There actually is one argument against the new regulation that I find credible. If the law changes, it's possible that at the height of the next shortage, regional airlines will be so desperate for candidates with 1500 hours that they'll take anyone with the flight time regardless of prior checkride busts, violations, crashes, etc. The fact that the new legislation addresses hiring standards, as well as the fact that the airlines weren't much more selective than that in the last shortage, makes me less swayed.

Sea Change

When I wrote the series of posts on Colgan 3407 back in May, I noted that the new FAA administrator appeared to be receptive to changing crewmember rest and duty rules, and that the Senate's Aviation Operations, Safety, and Security Subcommittee was preparing to hold hearings on the Colgan crash in June. I noted that it would be "interesting to see whether any substantial legislation emerges from the process." I didn't say what I thought the chances of that actually happening were. Pilots are pessimists and cynics by nature. I knew that the FAA had proposed rewriting rest & duty regulations in the past only to be cowed into submission by intense airline industry lobbying. I presumed that the Senators were simply doing what Senators do best: providing themselves with a platform to bloviate and look Senatorial (or better yet, Presidential) while the attention of the country was still focused on air safety.

I may have been wrong.

We now appear to be headed for some of the most sweeping regulatory changes the industry has seen since deregulation, or the Federal Aviation Act of 1958 before it.

The FAA has convened an Aviation Rulemaking Committee (ARC) to rewrite the regulations concerning crewmembers' flight time, duty time, and required rest periods. The committee, which is comprised of FAA, industry, and labor representatives, started meeting in early July and has been given a September 1st deadline to make a recommendation to the FAA. Administrator Babbitt has stated that he wishes to have new regulations in place by the end of the year. The Air Transportation Association and other industry groups are rather wisely supporting the aggressive rewrite, in public at least. These are the same airlines that sued the FAA earlier this year to halt a very modest rewrite of rest rules for flights over 16 hours.

The few rumors to emerge from the ARC thus far indicate that maximum duty time will decrease by several hours, weekly and monthly duty time may be restricted, rest periods will be lengthened or will reflect time actually at the layover (right now transportation to and from the hotel is considered "rest"), and maximum duty time may be limited for late afternoon and evening show times. Work is reportedly proceeding very quickly and the airline industry participants have not stonewalled and created deadlock as happened in several past ARCs.

Meanwhile, the members of the House of Representatives' Aviation Subcommittee have introduced bipartisan legislation H.R.3371, "Airline Safety and Pilot Training Improvement Act of 2009." It goes to the full House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee tomorrow, and if approved there, on to the full House sometime after the August recess. A corresponding bill has not yet been introduced at the Senate's aviation subcommittee, but based on statements from both the majority and minority leaders during the June hearings I don't doubt that one will be forthcoming.

The full bill isn't yet available to the public, but the summary linked to above contains the following high points:

• Require all airline pilots, not just Captains, to hold an Airline Transport Pilot certificate (1500 hours total time, among other requirements).
• Establish tougher screening criteria for airline pilot interviews.
• Create a Pilot Records Database to include licenses, ratings, check rides, and "pink slips," both from the FAA and employers, to be used for hiring purposes only.
• Require mentoring programs for new-hire pilots and command/leadership for Captain upgrades.
• Require stall recovery training at the airlines, and forms a FAA task force to study requiring training in stick pusher usage.
• Study whether the airlines' new hire and recurrent programs provide enough time to cover the necessary subjects in great enough detail.
• Require the FAA to implement new flight time and duty rules within one year.
• Requires air carriers to create FAA-approved fatigue management systems.
• Require websites that sell tickets to disclose who actually operates a flight on the first page that flight is displayed on.

If this legislation ends up being passed by both chambers of Congress and is signed into law in its current form, it will be a big, big step forward in addressing a lot of the industry problems that I've written about on this blog over the years. I'm eager to read the actual legislation, but here are a few first reactions to the rough outline we have now.

First, there is no doubt in my mind that every pilot sitting up front on a Part 121 airliner should have an ATP. For most of the industry's history this hasn't even been an issue. Even back in the late 1990s when the major airlines had multiple years of record hiring and the turnover at the regional airlines was huge, your resumé wouldn't even get looked at if you didn't have ATP minimums. A few years of hard work flight instructing and freight dogging was the norm, and the regionals enjoyed a steady stream of experienced newhires. The conditions of 2005-2007, where it was possible to get hired at many regionals with little more than a fresh commercial certificate, were the direct result of the destruction wreaked upon the piloting profession in the post-9/11 era. There were still plenty of pilots out there with more than ATP minimums, there were just very few willing to prostitute themselves for poverty-level wages and the eventual chance of being hired by one of the major airlines (which themselves had become much less lucrative). Rather than offer higher wages and threaten their business model, regional airline management conveniently took the view that experience doesn't matter, and their major airline partners looked the other way. Well, experience does matter, and if the airlines aren't willing to do what it takes to attract experienced pilots, Congress is entirely right to force it on them.

I've already heard objections to this by some pilots, mostly those without ATP minimums or who were originally hired with low time. I say putting in another year or two of entry level work isn't going to bankrupt anyone - it generally pays as well or better than first year regional wages - and the experience will serve them well throughout their career. It will also weed out less committed pilots, tightening the job market and giving pilots the leverage to make a livable wage at the regional airlines. Heck, the increased labor costs at the regionals could even destroy this accursed two-tier system that was destroying their careers before they even began.

An electronic pilot records database is a welcome and overdue replacement for the inefficient mish-mash verification system in place now. Right now the airlines use a FAA database to verify certificates, type ratings, and medicals, and check whether enforcement action has ever been taken against the candidate. They then contact the candidates' previous employers for the last five years to verify that the candidate's employment, training records, and check for flying-related disciplinary actions; if the previous employer is out of business or doesn't bother to forward the records, the hiring carrier assumes everything is OK. They check the National Drivers Records database for prior DUIs or DWIs. Otherwise, they simply rely on the candidate's word regarding FAA or Part 141 checkride busts, accidents/incidents, and training or disciplinary events at employers more than five years ago. Obviously in this digital age there is a better way to do this. Many pilots will complain that airlines might not hire them based on a long-ago Private Pilot checkride bust but that's simply not true: most airlines today ask about checkride failures and are mostly concerned about a pattern of failures. Presumably they're truthfully answering the questions on the application, so why object to a database that verifies the information they willingly give the airline?

The hiring & training items - pre-employment screening, mentoring & command/leadership programs, stall recovery/stick pusher training, and study of whether airlines alot enough time for training - are all things that the major airlines and the "better" regionals do already. This is really aimed at some of the smaller or more cost-obsessed regionals who have been trying to eke by with the legal minimum. It's a recognition that safety programs and training are not the place to compete on costs.

The requirement that the FAA publish new flight and duty regulations within one year strikes me as odd given that it's well known that such regulations are in the works right now. I suspect this was inserted to put the industry groups on notice that foot-dragging and stonewalling will not be tolerated this time around. The requirement for airlines to create FAA-approved fatigue management systems is intriguing to me, I'd like to hear the details. Depending on how it's structured, it could become either a meaningless formality or a forced change to the airlines' "our crews are legal, therefore they're safe" approach to fatigue.

The final item, requiring ticket sellers to disclose who really operates a flight before the customer selects that departure, seems reasonable from a public-right-to-know standpoint, but I doubt it will actually affect many passengers' purchasing habits. At best it makes the airlines slightly more sensitive to negative publicity concerning safety programs and practices, making the adoption of voluntary programs like ASAP and FOQA more likely. In reality all the major websites (Expedia, Travelocity, Orbitz, Priceline, Hotwire) already make this information readily available before booking, although sometimes not on the first page.

My reaction to the new rest regulations will have to wait for when the FAA actually publishes a Notice of Proposed Rule Making, but based on what we're hearing it sounds like the rules will address the most egregious scheduling practices at the airlines today. Unfortunately it will significantly decrease pay and even time off at some airlines, particularly at those regionals without rigs or daily minimums in their contracts. That's a pill I'm willing to swallow in exchange for a safety improvement we've been demanding for so long, plus the fact that these rules will likely force airlines to increase staffing, putting many currently-furloughed pilots back to work.

Obviously none of this is set in stone; I don't doubt that as the airline industry remains supportive in public, they are furiously lobbying against these changes both at the FAA and Congress. We'll see just how much of this actually makes its way into law. That said, there's more momentum for substantial change than anytime in recent history, and I'm guardedly optimistic.

The Old Guy

Larry is, in many ways, a very typical specimen of an airline pilot of a certain age. He has been flying for quite a few years, and has the head of grey hair (thinning just a little on top) to prove it. He worked his way up from the "commuter" airlines back in the day, flying the ubiquitous Beech 1900. He was then hired by a major airline, where he progressed through the 727, 737, and 757 before upgrading to Captain on the 737. He flew scheduled service and charter, domestic and international; he crossed the North Atlantic a number of times but mostly bid for mainland-Hawaii runs, which were the most convenient trips to commute into from his home near Denver. Now in his 50s, Larry has reached the point in his career where all those years of hard work start to pay off, and for his last ten years or so, he enjoys a top salary and his choice of work schedule.

Or rather, that's what he was looking forward to until his airline, ATA, hit financial troubles and shut down, abruptly putting Larry out of a job. Now he is a junior First Officer for NewCo, flying the JungleBus for $23 per hour - far less than he made flying the 19-seat Beech all those years ago, when adjusted for inflation. On his last trip, Larry flew with a 28-year old Captain who has a mere five years of airline experience and who has never been a Part 121 Captain before - namely, me. Now, one could expect Larry to be fairly bitter over this turn of events, but he's taken it in stride, and is in fact a rather pleasant guy to fly with. The same has been generally true of the many other ex-ATA, Midwest, Aloha, Champion, and United pilots I've flown with, all of whom have paid their dues and worked their way up the ladder only to be thrown back to Square One.

Larry's situation is not uncommon in the airlines today. There have recently been a lot of "old guys" who, having nearly reached the pinnacle of their careers, have seen the rug yanked out from under them. This isn't exactly a new phenomenon: twenty years ago, there were plenty of senior Braniff, Eastern, and PanAm pilots who went from hero to zero almost overnight. That said, those three failures were the result of circumstances particular to those airlines, and there were other airlines that prospered around the same time or shortly afterward. In short, while these pilots certainly lost a lot, they at least had viable options for making a living for the remainder of their careers.

What is different today is that the remaining major airlines who might otherwise form a safety net for these newly unemployed "old guys" have farmed out a huge portion of their flying to the lowest bidder. The only airlines really prospering and hiring in the last few years are those regional carriers who specialize in snapping up small-gauge flying from the major airlines whose pilots have been coaxed or forced into relaxing the amount of outsourcing permitted. The common thread connecting these regionals is that they offer starting pilots wages that break historical lows going back to the very dawn of the airlines. Experience matters for naught; if you're a new-hire, with 250 flight hours or 25,000, you start at poverty-level wages.

In jobs like computer programming or mechanical engineering, for example, experience pays. These jobs are not unionized, and productivity is closely linked to proficiency. At the airlines the relationship is not so clear. A very experienced pilot might hold up a flight in a situation where a newer, more company-oriented pilot might gladly launch into the wild blue yonder. Over the short term, the less experienced pilot's approach will probably save the company money, but in the long term the more experienced pilot's caution may well result in more safety - and more profits. In America today, sadly, the primary corporate focus seems to be on next quarters' profits, and a completely free market would likely reward less cautious pilots. This is the way that it was in the early days of the airlines; this is what gave rise to the pilot's unions of today. Unfortunately, in striving to establish a system whereby rewards come through longevity rather than malleability to management's wishes, the unions have created a system wherein overall experience is utterly ignored.

There has been no shortage of theoretical proposals to rectify this situation. One long-standing idea has been the establishment of a national seniority list, whereby a national union - presumably ALPA - would essentially become a crew-leasing company. A pilot could easily move between companies, keeping their longevity intact, choosing the employer whose contract paid the most for their overall experience. Ten years ago this idea was being pushed by those at the regionals, who (with equal parts foresight and self-interest) reckoned that this would neuter the whipsaw mechanism then being laid in place by major airline management teams. It was most opposed by the highest-paid major airline pilots, such as those at United, who figured this was a scheme by lesser-fortunate pilots to weasel their way into hard-earned contracts like their own. Ironically, the national seniority list idea was most recently floated at ALPA-National last year by a group of United Airlines pilots who have realized that their management has no intention of running a long-term profitable airline.

A major problem with a national seniority list is how you would implement it from the beginning. The USAir-America West merger is a hopeless mess because of the wildly disparate demographic makeup of the two pilot groups involved; an all-encompasing national integration would be the same situation writ large. How do you reward experienced pilots at failing airlines without upsetting much younger pilots at newer, aggressive, and profitable airlines? How do you account for a regional lifer Captain's greater experience without setting back a former regional Captain who took the calculated risk of jumping to a major airline? Very much like the move to Age-65 retirement, this is the sort of proposal that everyone can get behind so long as it doesn't set them back personally! Ultimately, any remotely fair integration would result in most pilots feeling like they got screwed, and would likely result in the mass decertification of whichever union had the audacity to propose such a scheme in the first place. This is a debilitating roadblock even before you consider how you'd get the various airline management teams to agree to such an arrangement in the first place. The right to hire whomever they please is a management right that has gone unchallenged thus far and one that they reserve rather jealously; without a costly and fundamental change in who controls hiring, management would simply hire the most junior and thus cheapest pilots, and the result would be even worse than the current situation.

Another proposal that I have heard is to decouple F/O and Captain seniority lists and stop automatic upgrades. Under this proposal, both regional and major airlines would hire both First Officers and Captains off the street; perhaps even narrowbody and widebody seniority lists at the majors would be separated. The advantage is that those most experienced in each category would naturally advance to the next-highest paying category, regardless of which airline they'd been employed at last. Guys like Larry who have a lot of experience but have suffered a major career interruption could pick up almost where they left off as soon as other airlines began hiring Captains. It would stop the phenomenon of pilots flocking to airlines with inferior contracts in hopes of a quick upgrade. This is actually not a new idea: it's virtually identical to the way that many foreign airlines hire expatriates. These airlines generally offer excellent contracts despite being mostly non-unionized; without the lure of fast advancement to larger aircraft or a quick upgrade, they must compete for qualified pilots on pay and benefits alone.

This system has important benefits to airline management that might make them more likely to sign off on such a radical change. Stagnant seniority lists are the bane of many companies: they artificially inflate labor costs through increased average longevity. A system in which pilots on a stagnant list could make the jump to another company without suffering a major pay setback would tend to even things out. Under this system, management not only keeps control over hiring but gains control over upgrades. This is actually one reason such a system might give many pilots pause: it undoes some of the protections of our present seniority system and gives management the means to reward cronies with quicker advancement by hiring them for Captain or Widebody positions ahead of those with known pro-labor attitudes.

I've had my own thoughts about what an ideal system would look like. The following proposal has been developed over the last few years and I've talked about it at length with other pilots (both in person and on various web boards). I think longevity ought to be done away with altogether, and that there should be a set formula for pay across the industry according to position and aircraft size. My suggestion is an annual base salary of $40,000 for Captains and $30,000 for FOs, with a capacity override of $1/hr/seat for Captains and $.75/hr/seat for FOs. This payrate would increase annually at the same rate as inflation as calculated by the government's Consumer Price Index. A pilot's earning power would increase throughout his career as he progressed to larger aircraft, but if one ever found himself in Larry's situation, at least he'd still have a livable wage. Just so you don't have to do the math, here's a table of annual earnings for various aircraft types based on 80 hours per month:

Aircraft CA FO
Saab 340 (30 seats) $68800 $51600
CRJ-200 (50 seats) $88000 $66000
JungleBus (76 seats) $112960 $84720
A320 (148 seats) $182080 $136560
B757-300 (224 seats) $255040 $161280
B747-400 (404 seats) $427840 $320880

While these rates are a big jump from todays depressed salaries, they are not out of line with historical airline payrates adjusted for inflation, and would not actually add that much to the price of a ticket. As an example, this payscale would add $2.60 in cost per passenger on a RedCo 757 from SFO to MSP (assuming 80% load factor, 8 year FO, 12+ year CA). This is additional cost that can easily be passed onto the passenger without hurting demand. The important thing in making the extra cost palatable is that it would apply industry-wide; every airline would be on an equal footing where crew costs are concerned. Management would also gain the advantage of fixed labor costs that are 100% known for years to come, and never having to negotiate new labor contracts.

The only way this system would work is if it were 100% universal across the industry (at least in the U.S.) and that's where the biggest roadblocks are. First, it would need to be adopted industry-wide basically simultaneously, which is simply not possible within the confines of the Railway Labor Act (RLA); it would need to be repealed for this plan to have a chance. Secondly, there would always be new startups that attempt to undercut existing airlines by offering pilots less than the standard rate, and there will always be pilots who jump at the "opportunity." The only way to discourage such behavior would be for the unions to gain power over the hiring process and ban the hiring of those pilots who have worked for less than standard wages. Thirdly, this would require a huge amount of cooperation - and indeed, devolvement of political power - not just from the various MECs within ALPA, but also between ALPA itself and the various independent unions, including a few with historically antagonistic relations with ALPA (APA, USAPA). In short, changing the industry over to a Guild system would require a lot of leadership and political will that simply is not there. I've come to the conclusion that my proposal, like the national seniority list, is a utopian idea that has zero chance of success in the real world.

That's not to say that more modest changes will not be made. In 2006, ALPA formed a Fee-For-Departure Task Force composed of representatives from various regional airlines, particularly those affiliated with WidgetCo. They've been exploring ways of more closely cooperating and preventing management from whipsawing them against each other, including a minimum standard contract and better portability of seniority and longevity in transferring between airlines. The reality is that ALPA should have been thinking about this a decade ago, but late progress is better than none at all. It'll be interesting to see if anything concrete comes out of the task force, and whether some of the ideas spread beyond the regionals. I hope so. I enjoyed flying with Larry a lot, but couldn't help but see in him myself in 30 years.