A while back I posted this picture on social media:
Me in downtown Charleston in August, 2003
It was one of my most unique life adventures. For about a month during summer break from college in August of 2003, I flew around the US, wherever the military had Space Available Flights.
Several followers reached out and said they would like to know more about the story behind this trip.
Here goes:
The Backstory
Midnight 2001/2002 I met *Bob at a nightclub in downtown Seattle. We went on two dates before he was stationed overseas in preparation for Iraq.
Long Distance Relationship
Our relationship was mostly phone calls and letters. But he professed to love me and want to marry me. On one hand, I was rather flattered. This is the kind romance you read about in books or see in movies, right? Even my mom thought it was sweet, since that is how she and my dad met. My parents dated briefly before my father headed off to Vietnam, then they got married when he returned. They’ve now been married almost 50 years. In theory, it could work.
But Do You Really Know Him?
My guts told me this was rash. How much can you really get to know someone through calls and letters. I decided to give it a shot. At the same time, I really thought we needed to see each other more in person before taking it to the next level.
Through these letters and calls, we did learn quite a bit about each other. In particular, he did know about the fact that I had a chronic medical condition: MS. He also knew I was putting myself through school to get my electrical engineering degree in Seattle.
The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men
In the on my summer break from college in 2003, I made plans to go visit him in Germany before he was due to rotate to Iraq. I was on a serious budget in college, so I researched taking military Space Available flights (I’m medically retired from the Navy, so I’m eligible).
The Inciting Event
During the final few weeks of classes, the stress brought on a migraine so severe, I had to be hospitalized (because they weren’t sure if it was a migraine or a stroke). When I was being released from the hospital, I sent him an email about what was going on and asked him to call me. I couldn’t call him at the time because of his location.
A Red Flag Flies
When he finally called, as I was being discharged from the hospital he said, “Is this going to be a regular thing? Because when we’re married, I don’t want to have to work.”
I was too stunned to come back immediately with anything, especially since I was still doped up on medications.
He then quickly dismissed me with something along the lines of, “take care driving home and I’ll talk to you later.”
I think you will understand when I tell you, that BOTHERED ME. And that is putting it mildly. I hoped he was joking. He said he cared.
WHAT THE HELL????
I wasn’t putting myself through the torture of an electrical engineering degree just for the fun of it. Though I am one of those psychos who likes to do math. In fact, the VA was paying for it on the premise that I would be employable at the end. I WANTED TO WORK. At the same time. I have Multiple Sclerosis. A disease that can choose to knock me flat whenever it wants.
One of my major criteria for a life partner was someone who would be on my team. Not someone who just wanted me to support him.
At the same time, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Part of me desperately wanted it to just be a misunderstanding. After all the letters and calls, yes, I had feelings for him.
Things Go From Bad to Worse
So, I sent him an email telling him that something he said really bugged me, and I wanted to talk about it. Could he give me a call back so we could discuss it?
His reply?
He was too busy. Just email him.
I really didn’t want to do that because I know how things can come off wrong in an email. I let him know that.
His reply was that I was starting to annoy him, and I should really just email what was on my mind.
So…I…did…
Oh boy…
Level of anger in his response: nuclear
The response in return was a profanity laced email that haunts me to this day. I won’t go into details. Sadly, I wasn’t rude. I just stated what he said and why it hurt me. The names he called me and how angry he got was terrifying.
I decided was not going anywhere in his vicinity.
New Plans and an Ex-Boyfriend/Old Friend
I was shaken and restless. I had a whole month off from school and work. I needed to escape. The walls of my apartment seemed to get smaller every time I read Bob’s violently angry email.
I know many people say you can’t be friends with an ex-boyfriend, but it just so happens I was.
I called up *Jake.
Backstory of Jake
Jake and I dated in the Navy in South Carolina. Our first go-round didn’t work out. He ghosted me in the worst way and broke my heart. I moved on. When I got diagnosed with MS and was getting ready to leave South Carolina, he called me one night out of the blue.
Jake apologized profusely with no expectations of forgiveness or friendship. He said that he had always felt guilty for what he had done, but didn’t know how to rectify it. He told some of his friends about it, and they insisted that he call and at least try to apologize. We went out for dinner. The sparks flew again between us, but I was moving away, so we became good friends.
When I called Jake and told him what happened, he suggested I come to Charleston and stay with him for a bit instead. I looked up the Space Available Schedule. While I couldn’t get directly to Charleston, SC; I could get to North Carolina and rent a vehicle.
The Adventure Begins…
I sent Bob an email that I wasn’t coming to Germany, and that we needed to take a break from each other. Which seemed silly in some ways since I hadn’t seen him in almost a year and a half at that point. But I needed time to process his violent response to my email. I let him know I would talk to him again when school started.
I packed my trusty green backpack. I have travelled with this baby across Europe, on camping trips in the Alaska backcountry, and I still have it to this day. I loaded it into the back of my red Hyundai and headed to McChord AFB, south of Seattle to catch my flight across the US.
Time to fly. Let the journey begin.
Next: my flight to North Carolina and a Dark and Stormy Night
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent
Thanks for reading!
About the Author
I joined the Navy at 18 to escape a small town in the Mojave Desert. A diagnosis of MS disrupted my dreams of becoming an astronaut or a super spy. I made limoncello from my lemons and became a super electrical engineer instead. My fascination with live high voltage drew me to Alaska. I came for the job, but stayed for the adventure. I enjoy blogging about my journey as a woman working in STEM, my experiences dealing with everything MS has handed me, and the wonder of the Alaska wilderness. My husband and I have undertaken the task of turning 30 acres of remote land into an off-grid retreat. I write stories about unique women in STEM who save the day and the hot guys who sometimes help along the way, as well as historical fiction about the Klondike Gold Rush. Teasers for these stories can be found on my website. I self-published my first horror novella, The Dark Land, on Amazon in May of 2020. I released the sequel, The Devil’s Valley, in May of 2021. Both stories are set in the wilderness of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, and draw on the Athabascan “Head Waters Peoples” legends of the Cet’ann, or “The People With Tails”.
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Some places were never meant for humans to trespass…
Reliable, cost effective and environmentally sustainable energy storage is a key to making alternative energy solutions competitive against other sources for the long term. Solar, wind, hydro, and tidal energy are abundant at times and in certain regions. Without the means to store this energy for when times are lean and make it accessible to all, it is easy to fall back onto fossil fuels.
Solar arrays near Nipton.
ALASKA CHALLENGES IN REMOTE LOCATIONS
Which brings me to my upcoming summer project with our new solar kit. For those of you who follow my posts regularly, our cabin is in a remote region of Alaska, subject to extreme temperatures. The record low for Chicken is -76. The highs can easily hit 80-90 in the summer months, where our ridge easily gets 21+ hours of sunlight a day at its peak.
View of the sunset from our cabin. Time is approximately midnight at the summer solstice. The sun will dip behind the mountains for about 3 hours, never quite getting dark..
BATTERIES AND PHOTOVOLTAIC SYSTEMS
TAKING ADVANTAGE OF SOLAR ENERGY
Battery longevity and efficiency is of extreme importance. Batteries are expensive parts of a photovoltaic system. They are, at their heart, simple devices. By definition, a battery is two dissimilar metals immersed in an electrolytic (typically acid) solution. This creates a chemical reaction. They are also (depending on their construction), highly corrosive and toxic waste in landfills. It is important that as we develop alternative energy storage solutions, we maximize storage efficiency to minimize waste and reduce cost. The extremes in temperatures that I mentioned above can degrade a battery’s life, requiring it to be replaced more frequently, thus adding more waste to our landfills and requiring more mining of rare earth minerals.
Me out in Chicken taking a break with Jane Friedman’s the Business of Being a Writer
I will be conducting a study of our system, keeping track of
load, temperatures, charge and charge times, acid levels and specific gravity. I
will track this information as a means to help manufacturers and researchers
refine their processes to create energy storage solutions that can better
withstand extreme environments and improve alternative energy accessibility for
all.
Taylor Highway Closed
This will be the first of many projects we hope to bring to life out in the 31 remote acres in the 40-Mile District of Alaska. Thanks for reading. In my next blog, I will discuss a little more in-depth on the details of our system design and capacity.
Summer of 2020 IS GOING TO BE AN ADVENTURE!
HOLD MY BEER!
Me and my father-in-law Shep, having a beer at the bar in Chicken, AK
Thanks for reading. I plan on posting many of our adventures this summer and beyond as I move into my next phase of my life and career. In the meantime, if you are looking for a fictional Alaska adventure, The Dark Land is available on Amazon
The legend of Alaska’s Headless Ravine is steeped in blood. Its hunger for human flesh never sleeps, even in the deepest cold of winter. Courage, skill and love will be stretched to the limits on the isolated boundaries of The Dark Land.
Sign up for my newsletter for sneak peaks of the sequel and my other writing!
I see a lot of people ask what they do to get over writer’s block. for me, I do one of a few things. I read a book and write a review. Or I write a piece of what I might like to call fan fiction. I have met so many talented and wonderful authors through social media that push my writing in different directions it is hard not to be inspired.
This particular snippet was inspired by one of my favorite authors/blogs I follow on Twitter, Rowena Tisdale.
Her sultry and steamy writing, along with her no-nonsense female characters are highly inspiring. It is refreshing to read about women who truly want sex and are not shy about it. It got me to really think back to my early twenties where for lots of really messed-up reasons (which I discuss in other blogs) I was less than popular with the guys and pretty shy and repressed. It took me a long time to find my confidence. After reading her blogs, I couldn’t help but ask myself, what if?
What if, in my early years as a technician/engineer my boss/mentor had been a confident woman leader? How would that have changed my trajectory?
Obviously, I cannot change the past. But I can write a little fantasy about what I would have liked it to look like. Now that I am 40, and infinitely more confident than I was at 24 it’s fun to indulge. Maybe it will inspire some of the other 20-somethings, struggling to find their voice and sexuality in a world sending mixed messages about what women should want and need.
Downtown Seattle, setting for this segment
Danyjella ran a
comb through her damp auburn hair while she waited for the email to connect to
the server.
I’ll just fire off one more email, then I’ll
head to the reception upstairs. She thought, as she applied mascara to her
long red eyelashes, then tapped blush on her pale cheeks in the mirror next to
the desk.
The IM window
flashed on her laptop.
RO: What the HELL are you still
doing working?
DANY: I’m sending you that report on
the plc and relay tests you requested
RO: GURL REALLY? It can wait until
Mon
DANY: Then YTF did you text me
asking if it was ready to go????
RO: Just wanted to know when it
would be ready
DANY: What the HELL are you still
doing working? You’re 3 hours ahead.
RO: I’m the boss, wanted to stalk
you and make sure you were done for the day, off scoring with hot men
DANY: HAHA! Remember who you’re
talking to?
RO: I do, so are you off to have
some fun?
DANY: I am. Heading to the bar for the reception I&M is throwing for the crew tonight.
RO: Great, BTW, sorry to cut into
your weekend, but the owner wants have dinner to go over progress Sunday night
DANY: OK
RO: What are you going to wear?
Danyjella paused,
looking down at her plain khaki pants and crimson tank top. It was the nicest
thing she had at the moment. The matching cardigan she planned on wearing over
the top of it was draped over the back of the chair. She looked out of the
window as Elliot Bay faded from silver into navy and the lights came on across
the way in West Seattle. She wondered where the rest of her stuff was. Somewhere
between Anchorage and Seattle in a shipping container. She sighed and then gave
a wry smile. She loved Rowena’s sense of style. The chic, vivacious woman who’d
hired her as field engineer and project lead for the new office here in Seattle
could get every head in the room to turn just by raising a perfectly arched
eyebrow and tapping immaculately manicured nails against a crystal wine stem. Danyjella
always wondered what that was like.
RO: Well???
DANY: I don’t know. Haven’t had
much time to go shopping since I moved down here. My new boss is a total slave
driver 😛
RO: My assistant is going to make
an appointment for you with the personal shopper at the downtown Nordstrom’s in
Seattle tomorrow. Make-up after! Be there as soon as they open.
DANY: Yes mummy. Make sure the
appointment is early. The building manager is giving me a personal tour of the
condos here tomorrow afternoon. I may put in an offer.
RO: EXCELLENT! I’ll be in town next
weekend. Sending you the file Monday for a software company in Redmond I need
to you review. Setting up a lunch meeting for you to head over there next week
and talk with their VP. We may want to acquire them.
DANY: Sounds good. Make it for later
in the week, Friday maybe. We’re testing the fire systems here Monday and
Tuesday. I need to be here for that. It’s going to be hectic.
RO: When is the security system
test?
DANY: Depends on how the F&G
tests go. Probably not until next week. Want to integrate the generator
controls first. I need to get moving. I can already feel the guys racking up
the bar tab upstairs.
RO: You go gurl. Thanks again.
You’re doing a fantastic job. Have a great weekend.
DANY: You too woman
Danyjella sent the
email off to Rowena, then she tugged her cardigan over her tank top and slid
her feet into her leather sandals. She wriggled her pink painted toes, feet
grateful to be free of the steel toed boots after such a long hot day. She
stretched and looked around the neatly furnished corporate apartment.
I love how close to downtown and the Lightrail
this place is. I hope they can get me a good deal. She thought as she went
into the bathroom to blow-dry her fine, shoulder-length auburn hair. She headed
to the outdoor mezzanine bar and restaurant that was part of the new condo
resort complex in downtown Seattle.
“Hey it’s Little Dipper Dany!” OT shouted as the elevator door slid open, revealing the Friday night party to already be in full swing. “Whata’ ya’ have?” The compact Irishman man asked. She smiled as she approached the group. OT barely came to her nose, but insisted on calling her “Little.” She wondered what he’d call her if she wore heels. At 5’9 she wasn’t gigantic, but tall enough for a girl.
“White wine and
sparkling water. It was a hot day today.” Danyjella replied as the bartender
began to pour.
“No shit it was.
I’ll be glad when they get the AC fully functional in that other building.” OT
replied. There were several comments of agreement from the rest of the commissioning
crew.
“Should be done by
Monday. They’re working on it this weekend. We’re going to test the HVAC with
the fire and gas systems on Tuesday.” Danyjella said, taking a sip of her
drink. The scantily clad waitresses brought out plates of appetizers for the
group, while Danyjella leaned against the bar, listening to the music play over
the speakers. Her mind wandered as she watched her guys hit on the girls.
Really, Jeff? You’re married. Oh yeah, I
forgot. “Crew policy” If its another zip code, it doesn’t count. She shook
her head as her stomach knotted. Shrugging her shoulders, she took a zip of her
white wine spritzer. She really would enjoy something a little stronger, but
damn, it had been hot today. Had Seattle been this brutally hot in the summers
when she went to college? She couldn’t remember. She put a hand against the bar
and took another sip, counting down the time until she could go back up to her
room, peel off her clothes and climb into the giant tub in the bathroom and
soak away all the aches from this week. Too bad the pool was closed for repairs.
What a rotten time of year to be out of service.
“Enjoying the
party?” A husky voice said behind her. She nearly choked on her drink as she
turned around to see a wall of sky-blue buttoned-down shirt.
“Uh—yes thank you, Mr. Erikson.” She replied, recovering herself as she gazed up into the site foreman’s vivid sapphire eyes. “It was very nice of I&M to put this on for the guys, I know they’re enjoying it.” Danyjella said, motioning to her crew of technicians, scattered around the bar, drinking, playing pool and shuffle board, talking up some of the local girls.
“You can call me Isaak.
We’ve only been working together all week,” he said, running a hand through his
thick, golden-brown hair. “What about you? You looked rather bored.” He said,
eyes crinkling as his smooth pink lips curled up in a grin.
“It’s fine. Just a
little tired I suppose. It’s been a long week,” she replied, rubbing her
shoulder. She looked down, thinking of Rowena and her penchant for hot guys in
jeans, as she took in his well-fitting blue jeans and black leather cowboy
boots.
“Hey, wait a sec,”
she said, cocking her head to the side. “The email said the bar has a strict
‘no jeans’ policy.” She pointed down to her khaki pants then his jeans.
His grin got
wider, and she felt her heart flutter as his eyes traveled up and down her
body, lingering on her breasts in a way that made her knees turn to water.
“Well, I suppose they make a special exception for me.”
“Why is that?” she
asked.
He shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. “I don’t know. Probably because I own half the building. I’m the I of I&M Enterprise.”
“Oh,” was Danyjella’s
only inarticulate reply. Why the fuck
didn’t Ro mention that, I thought he was just the site foreman. “I—I
suppose that makes sense then.” She said, shrugging her shoulders, wishing she
could think up something else to say.
He frowned, then
looked like he was about to say something else as a gorgeous brunette came up
alongside him, putting a flawlessly manicured hand on his forearm. The metal of
her gold choker gleamed against her glowing olive skin. She simpered at
Danyjella, then squeezed Isaak’s bicep.
Of course, he’d be taken. Didn’t see a ring.
But what the hell do I care? Not like guys like that are interested in me
anyway.
“I heard you’re
interested in buying into a unit in the new building,” He said, taking a sip of
his beer.
“Yes, I just moved
back down here from Alaska. The company’s putting me up here temporarily while
I house hunt, but I really like the location and the amenities. You’ve built a
fantastic property.”
“Have you tried
the pool yet?” he asked, the woman standing next to him frowned and sighed,
trying to get his attention.
“Uh, no. I
understand the pool is closed right now. Repairs or something,” Danyjella
replied, heat rising to her cheeks as he continued to stare.
“The main pool is,
but I can give you access to the penthouse pool. Here,” he pulled a business
card from his wallet and grabbed a pen from the bar. He scribbled some numbers
on it. “This is the floor number, and the code to get in. Don’t worry about
bringing a towel, they have everything you need at the spa. Its open 24/7.” The
brunette squeezed his arm again and raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. “If
you’ll pardon me. Please, enjoy the party.”
“Thanks, I—will,”
she said, but he had already turned away.
That was really kind of him, she thought
to herself, putting the card into her back pocket. She finished the rest of her
white wine spritzer. Her heart sank as she watched him move through the crowd
gorgeous brunette clinging to his side. He’d been flirty and friendly all week
as they worked. Not that she thought she really had a shot with a guy like him,
even when she thought he was the construction manager/site foreman. Now that
she realized he was the VP of the company she knew he was totally out of her
league. Guys like that only went for really pretty girls, not Plain Janes like
her. She sighed. Get over it. She
told herself
“Care for
another?” the bartender asked, flashing a smile.
“No thanks, maybe
just sparkling water and lime.” She replied as he refilled her. She wandered
around the room, chatting up with the crew and having a few appetizers as the
bar filled up with regular patrons. She noticed Isaak sitting in the lounge
section in the back, the lovely brunette huddled close beside him. Meanwhile,
across the table, a dark-haired man in a neatly cut navy blue suit sat
opposite. Her heart fluttered as his gaze seemed to go right through her. She
suddenly wished she’d had something better to wear than this plain tank top and
cardigan as his sapphire eyes raked over her. Eyes that were identical in color to Isaak’s, I wonder if they’re
related, she thought. He tipped his glass slightly in her direction. The
voluptuous platinum blonde at his side smiled broadly, coral pink lips
glittering under the now dimmed lights. Her eyes were dark and luminous as she
looked Danyjella over as well, the diamonds at her throat winking as she turned
her head and whispered in the man’s ear.
Danyjella froze
and nodded in return, not really sure of the protocol she found herself looking
around. Are they really looking at me
like that?
“Hey, Little Dipper,”
OT interrupted, “Bunch of us are going boating tomorrow on Lake Washington,
wanna’ come?”
“Sorry OT, can’t.
I’ve got to run some errands for the boss tomorrow,” she replied. “But keep me
in mind for next weekend perhaps.” When she looked back, her breath came even
faster as the man in the corner continued to stare. He put his glass to his
lips, never taking his eyes off of her. Isaak looked up and frowned when he saw
her standing there. He said something to the man in the corner that only made
him smile wider. He looked away and went back to talking with Isaak. Meanwhile
the blonde flipped her hair over her shoulder, dark eyes raising the heat in
Danyjella’s cheeks. Then she turned her attention back to the conversation.
Danyjella shook
her head, spell broken. What the hell is
wrong with me? I need to just get a grip. They were probably staring at someone
behind me. She downed the rest of her drink and placed an order at the bar
for some food to be sent to her room later from one of the restaurants
downstairs. She made a beeline back to her room to change for the pool.
Seattle waterfront in Summertime
Wow, I could get used to this, Danyjella
thought as she rested her chin on her arms, staring at the twinkling Seattle
lights. The infinity pool glowed blue as she looked out from the 50th
floor over Elliott Bay, Lake Union, and West Seattle. She could see the lights
from the stadiums to the south. It looked like a Mariners game had just gotten
out. Ahh, but I would be using the
“regular pool” not this one. I’ll have to make sure to tell Isaak thank you.
“Enjoying the
view?” A smooth voice asked from the pool deck behind her. She jerked away from
the edge, bobbing in the water and sputtering as she came back up. “Whoa, don’t
drown on me,” the dark-haired man from the bar said with a chuckle as he
crouched down by the edge. “Though, I’ll admit, I’d love to revive you.”
“The view is
beautiful,” she replied, treading water as she moved toward the shallow end.
Her eyes searched the patio area to see that they were indeed alone.
“Sorry to startle
you, Miss Napier,” he said, taking a seat in one of the plush blue lounge
chairs.
“I’m fine,” she
replied. “Pardon me, but who are you?”
His navy sports
coat from earlier was gone. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar,
sleeves rolled up “Forgive me, Rayne, Rayne Mattson,” he said, leaning back in
the lounge chair and putting his muscled arms behind his head. He kicked his
patent leather-clad feet up and looked down at her in the water through thick
inky eyelashes.
“Ah yes,” Danyjella
replied. “We’re supposed to have dinner Sunday night and go over the progress
so far on integrating the controls for the new building into the existing.” She
ran her hands over her wet hair, feeling at a disadvantage, half naked in the
pool while their client watched.
“Yes,” he replied,
“And I’m looking forward to it. I’ve read your plans, I’m sure it will be
brilliant. But enough about work for tonight.” He said, leaning his head back
and looking up at the night sky. The pools retractable roof had been pulled
back, revealing a hazy night sky. “I don’t know about you, but its been a long
week.”
“Uh, yes,” she
replied. That’s why I’m here in the pool.
Trying to relax. Alone.
“I’m sorry,” he
said, sitting upright and leaning toward her, eyes reflecting the blue light of
the pool. “You’re trying to wind down. I’m barging in. This is my favorite
place to relax too.” He pointed to one of the three penthouse suites that
surrounded the pool area. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” she
said, feeling the heat rise despite the cool water. Had he been reading her
mind? He had just as much right to be here, if not more so. Now she felt like
an interloper.
“Are you hungry?”
he asked. “I ordered dinner from downstairs, it should be here any minute. I
know we’re having dinner Sunday, but would you care to join me,” his blue eyes
crinkled, as he lowered his voice and leaned forward again. “A little less
formally?”
Her stomach
rumbled, other than the appetizers at the reception, she hadn’t eaten anything
since lunch. “Sure,” she replied.
“Why don’t I go in
and pick out a nice bottle of wine,” her breath caught as he smiled. “I’ll give
you a little privacy while you get out of the pool and rinse off.” He rose and
went into one of the corner penthouse suites. She climbed out of the pool and
toweled off with the downy blue town she’d left on one of the lounge chairs and
wrapped it around her midsection, tucking it securely around her breasts. She
glanced in the direction he had gone. The lights glowed through the floor to
ceiling windows. He moved gracefully around his apartment, picking out a bottle
of wine. Grabbing her nylon bag of clothes, she walked to the spa area and
rinsed quickly. She put on her simple chemise and shorts that she brought with
her and pulled one of the lush robes hanging in the spa over it. She slipped
her feet back into her sandals and padded out into the warm summer evening.
When she came back
out to the pool area, Rayne had the small table between the lounge chairs set
for two. “The food will be here any minute,” he said, smiling up at her and
handing her a crystal goblet of red wine.
“Thank you,” she replied taking a seat on the lounge chair opposite of him. “So, you’re the ‘M’ then of I&M Enterprises?”
“Yes,” he replied, leaning back in
his chair and sipping his wine.
“How did you and
Isaak meet then?” Her eyes scanned his face. Both men were tall and muscled.
But Isaak was more golden complexioned. This man was dark-haired and olive
skinned, but they both shared vivid blue eyes.
His face
contorted, so fast that if she would have blinked, she would have missed it. An
expression of almost, malevolence. But it faded so fast she thought she must
have been mistaken. A peculiar smile crossed his face. It sent a chill up her
spine in that, it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “We’re related. Isaak is my
half-brother. He’s an excellent architect and construction manager.”
“And what do you
do?”
“My expertise is
in Business Management and Finance,” he took a sip of wine, looking her over
once more. “You have a fascinating resume, Miss Napier. Ex-military, automation
and electrical engineer, medically discharged. No husband or boyfriend?”
She choked on her
sip of wine, “No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Mattson.”
“Rayne, please
call me Rayne. May I call you Danyjella?”
“Sure.” She
replied, dragging her eyes away from his face.
“Danyjella is an
unusual name. Eastern European, I take it?”
“The spelling is.
My family is not.” She replied. “There was a couple from Sarajevo who lived
next door to my parents when my mother was pregnant. The woman’s sister was
named Danyjella. My mom thought that was a pretty name.”
“It is indeed,”
the tone of his voice sent a quiver through her body. They were interrupted by
his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it. He
punched a code into his phone, and the delivery girl entered the pool area
carrying multiple containers tied together with string.
“Thanks for your
order, Mr. Mattson,” the slender girl said with a smile, her pink dyed hair cast
in a purple sheen from the azure lights of the pool as she set the cartons down
on the table.
“Thank you Jen,” he replied. He turned his mesmerizing eyes back on her as he began to serve her Dim Sum from the containers. “You’re an intriguing woman, Danyjella. Tell me a little more about yourself, I’m interested in knowing what makes a woman like you tick.”
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more sexy engineering adventures. Who will my alter-ego pick?
As promised, Part Two of my sexual harassment blog on “Creepers”
*Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
Last
July, as a present to myself for my 40th birthday, I decided to
splurge and get my manuscript, Torched, professionally edited. It was a great
learning experience and a lot of fun working a professional editor. But I
thought I would relate a humorous conversation she and I had about my
manuscript.
***Summarized this conversation for brevity, but you’ll get
the point.
Editor: I really like your antagonist, Dennis. He’s a really
great character. You have your romance going on in the foreground with creepy
little Dennis in the background watching and plotting. How did you come up with
him?
ME: Well, it’s funny you should ask that. There’s this one
guy I used to work with, and he was kind of socially awkward. When I was
working on my masters, I would stay in my office after hours late at night and
work on my homework. He would come into my office and stare at me until I would
notice him.
Editor: Wait—WHAT? Your serial killer is based on a real
person? He would come into your office and stare at you?
ME: Uh—yeah. Really, it’s not as bad as it sounds. He was
just a little awkward. He would just stare at you silently until you noticed
him, then he would talk. Usually I just told him I was busy and he would go
away.
Editor: OMG! That’s creepy.
ME: He just wanted to talk to someone. He would even bring
me presents.
Editor: Presents? What?
And the more I talked and tried to convince her this wasn’t
weird, the weirder it sounded.
Working in any field I think you encounter what I like to
call, the ODD DUCK. If you have ever seen office space, he’s the Milton
Waddams. Quiet, unkempt, usually not very popular. You won’t find him as the
life of the office party. He’s usually hanging out in the corner by himself,
just watching.
This particular co-worker of mine was an absolutely
brilliant engineer and highly educated when you started talking to him. He and
I often worked on jobs together so I got the chance to get to know him a little
better than most. I also got to know more of his darker side. While brilliant,
he had a definite chip on his shoulder when it came to women. Highly
misogynistic, he would make terrible comments about women, but quickly follow
them up with, “I’m just being honest.” And, of course, “I don’t mean you
Daniella.”
He knew that I was an avid reader and a writer. I enjoy
reading all genres, both fiction and non-fiction. Though when he found out that
I wrote romance, this didn’t set well at all (even though I told him I wrote
horror as well).
“Daniella you need to lay off that romance crap and read more war and killing stuff.”
He started bringing me presents. Which believe it or not
were highly educational. One of his hobbies was history. He was really into
history related to war. So he would bring me books, and being the person that I
am, I’ll never turn down a free book. Usually he’d bring me non-fiction books
or movies about war and killings. He did give me a fictional movie about the
Templars, saying as he brought it into my office late one night after staring
quietly at me for a while, “This is full of that romance crap you like. I’m
sorry I bought it.”
Now before you think I was the only target of his
affections, I wasn’t terribly worried because he did this to others. He would
come into the office and stare at my alternate (who was a guy) and try to
strike up conversations. From my interactions with him, I got the impression he
had some sort of broad-spectrum autism. He often had difficulty just talking to
people and would often wind up saying something incredibly in appropriate or offensive.
To be honest, even though he could be quite insulting at times (and a little
creepy the staring thing did get to you after a bit). I really felt that he was
just kind of lonely. Having been somewhat of an outsider myself most of my
life, I can relate.
So that was OD1. Let me relate the
story of OD2…
*OD2 is reviewing a drawing package
with me in my office. Not an unusual event as part of both our jobs. OD2 is
also a little on the older and heavy-set side and has just come in from
outside, so I presume that’s why he’s breathing like Darth Vader. He always
does this, so I just shrug it off. He continually mumbles to himself while we
go over the electrical portion of the work to be done on the project. He’s one
of my odd customers that I deal with on a frequent basis here in Prudhoe and while
I don’t mind his mumbling and heavy breathing, the smell of his greasy hair and
his unwashed FR clothing does get to me after a while.
I’m sitting in my chair and he’s talking
me through the scope of the electrical work as he leans over the one-line
drawing, pointing out the changes he makes a strange snort. A glob of
green-brown goop spatters across the white paper. It’s all I can do to not
recoil from the snot rocket he’s just blown across the package. Without missing
a beat, he wipes it away with his hand and keeps talking, mumbling and of
course, heavy breathing. With as much stealth as I can muster, I pull a yellow
post-it note from my desk and attach it to the page. I want to let our
documentation tech know to re-print that one.
We finish the review, and he
leaves. Admittedly, I’m laughing a little to myself over the yet another
awkward OD2 encounter. I go down to the mechanical piping office to talk to my
co-worker who has to deal with him on a fairly regular basis as well. As I
relate the story, while both she and the other male engineer sharing her office
start to laugh, they insist I close the door so they can tell me what he did
while he was in her office (reviewing the mechanical portion of the same package).
“So what did he do?”
“Well we were reviewing the
package,” O—- said, eyes wide. “And he’s
looking at me and talking about the pressures on the line, then all of a sudden
he turns his head aside and says, ‘But you’re so hot,’ then turns back and keeps
talking to me like nothing happened. He did it more than once.”
I look at C— the young EIT
sharing her office and mentoring under her. “Yeah, I heard it too, it was so
weird, like an aside in a cartoon or a movie.” They were both laughing, albeit,
a little nervously.
“What a creep,” I replied. Then it hit me. The constant mumbling when he’s in my office. As some of you who follow me know, I don’t really hear that well. Due to a head injury, I sometimes have trouble processing speech. He was doing it to me too. I just couldn’t hear him/understand him. Of course, now we start talking to all of the other female engineers we know. Aaaaaaand as expected, Every single one of them has a weird/creepy OD2 story.
Now we wanted to write it off at first as maybe these guys are just socially awkward/clueless that their behavior is totally inappropriate. They have issues, so they just don’t understand. We had a lively debate with some of our male co-workers that really gave us pause. They felt that these guys knew exactly what they were doing, they were just using their awkwardness as an excuse to get away with inappropriate behavior.
What do you guys think after reading my descriptions of the ODD DUCKS? Are they truly clueless and just don’t know any better? Or are they taking advantage of the fact that they won’t be called on their behavior due to their awkwardness?
Thanks for reading! Stay tuned. We’re prepping for our first Chicken Run of the year, so my next blog post will be a humous story about the time I harassed the ptarmigan–shame on me!
Part 1 of my series on Sexual Harassment in the WorkPlace
I hear the door to my office creak open behind me. It’s late
in the evening and I am in my office alone, trying to polish up a few things
before I head back to camp for the evening. Before I can even turn around, he’s
already barging in, moving closer to my desk.
“Hey Daniella, I heard that you have a cabin in the interior
of Alaska.”
“Uhm…yeah. Do you have something electrical to talk to me
about?” I ask, keeping a straight face. I know the answer to this question
before he even opens his mouth. He’s a mechanical piping guy. He knows nothing
and has nothing to do with what I do for work.
“Well, no.” He stammers.
“I don’t have time for chit-chat,” I reply bluntly. “I have
deadlines and I am working. Please leave my office now. Thank you.”
His jaw drops. He glowers and stiffens a little, but he
stomps out down the hall, slamming my door as he goes.
Now for some of you reading this exchange, this may seem a
little harsh. We “girls” have been trained to be “nice,” “polite,”
accommodating even. If I have learned one thing from my male co-workers, it’s
that I am here to work. It is perfectly acceptable to draw distinct boundaries
in the work place. Particularly around those who make me uncomfortable.
Now to give a little context around this particular
exchange, there are many types of sexual harassers out there. The ones that we
see in the news are the more overt kinds. You know, the ass-grabbers, the ones
who make lewd comments and jokes, the ones who try to get girls drunk and
assault them. I could go on and on, but I am going to focus on a subtler kind.
There’s a kind of guy who flies under the radar, but quite frankly is possibly
the biggest workplace predator, because he often escalates to these other
behaviors, but he carefully selects his victim, grooming her to make it feel as
if it is her fault when he makes his move. I call this guy, the Creepy
McCreeperton, or how about just Creeper for short.
Now, throughout my career as a technician and engineer, I
have had many male colleagues as mentors and friends. But there have always
been clear boundaries established from the get go. The Creeper immediately
starts trying to bend or push these boundaries.
Creeper moves in on his prey subtly, coming in to talk about
work, but then moving on to other subjects, usually his favorite, sex. He works
hard to find out what her interests are so he has ammunition. Creepers can be
married or single. He’ll often open up to her about his own relationship
problems, gaining her sympathy by trying to get her advice on his own
relationship woes. Then he’ll try to get her to talk about her problems, so she
can see just how much they have in common. The irony is that over the course of
my career, it is usually the other men I work with know who the Creepers are,
and warn me about them early on. Sadly, they don’t feel very empowered to do
much about them.
The Creeper I mentioned above was notorious for stalking the
young female engineers I worked with. He preyed on the fact they were too nice
to tell him to go away. He always managed to come to their offices when they
were working late or alone. He would often bring legitimate “work” to talk
about so he had a reason to be there, but then sway to the subject to personal
matters (sexual).
When they would tell me about it, I would try to drive home
to them that they didn’t have to put up with this behavior. Establishing
boundaries for professional behavior is perfectly acceptable. Guys don’t worry
about being nice. We shouldn’t either. We should worry about being professional
We’re here to do a job, not be someone’s eye candy.
Now, to give a little more info on said Creeper above, he
didn’t give up after the incident in my office. He would try to find ways to
talk about “personal” stuff with me, even though I made it clear I had nothing
to say. Usually by trying to stop me in the dining hall or corner me in the gym
and comment on my workout attire (yes, he was a true gem). I finally had to let
him know that I had spoken with my supervisor about his behavior, and if he did
not desist bothering me or other females in my department, we would be taking
further action (further action was taken, because I guess he didn’t think I
knew about the other women he was bothering).
Yes, I will add a small caveat here. We’re all adults, and
some people do date in the work place. And that’s fine, but no one should feel
coerced or harassed. It is acceptable to tell someone that their behavior is
inappropriate without fear of reprisal. In fact, when I let my male co-workers the
depth and level of was going on, they were outraged and incensed. It’s guys
like that that give men a bad name. Most of the men I have worked with wouldn’t
dream of doing anything like that. They have daughters, sisters and other
female friends. They knew the guy was a “creep” but they couldn’t believe the
lengths to which the guy would go.
We’re all human and we make mistakes. Speaking for myself, I have somethings said things I should not. People have said things around me that they should not. I try to give people (at least for the first offense) the benefit of the doubt that they are not trying to offend me and that they are a decent person. My usual response is something along the lines of crossing my arms over my chest, giving them a grin while I raise an eyebrow and saying, “Really?” And that’s more than enough for most of my technicians to know they’ve gone too far. We’re in a new era. Women are entering into professions and places that have been dominated by men for millennia. The amount of change in the industry both in attitude and support towards women has been staggering. There’s still along way to go. But that change needs to come with an open mind on both sides. We have to look at each other as human beings and partners, not adversaries.
So I shared this article yesterday, but I realized that this
really bothered me. And when I mean really bothered me, the event I am about to
relate happened over 14 years ago. I should be over it right? It was just
something someone said to me. It wasn’t the first time I have been bullied or
picked on for not fitting society’s standard of how a woman should look or act,
and it wouldn’t be the last. But this particular encounter left me shaken to my
core, and haunts me to some level until this very day. When I read this article,
written by Stephanie Yeboah about her own painful experience, I was sitting
waiting for an appointment. I broke down crying. Memories of that night came
flooding back. I knew I had to share her article. I have included a link below:
The incident from long ago played on repeat in my head,
keeping me awake last night. It had been something I had had shoved to the
recesses of my mind, along with all of the other insults and snubs about the
way I do and do not look. But reading Ms. Yeaboah’s experience, and the kind
words I have gotten from friends after sharing her article, I decided to go
ahead and relate what I went through, and why it bothers me so much to this
day.
My apartment during college was in Seattle’s wonderful Capitol Hill Neighborhood. One of the things I enjoyed the most was the ability to walk from my apartment just a few blocks and go to any number of affordable restaurants, bars and shops. I had a favorite bar I would go to most nights since it was only a block and a half from my apartment. I would often bring a book or even my homework and get a beer and just enjoy the small, popular neighborhood pub.
One night, as I sat at a booth in the back, reading a book,
a guy started to chat me up. Now this small dive had a group of definite
regulars, but I had never seen this guy here before. This took me completely by
surprise. If you follow me much or know me very well, I make mention often that
guys don’t tend to notice me. I’d like to think that I’m not ugly per se, just incredibly
average. But it was incredibly flattering to have someone (for once) notice me
sitting alone and ask about what I was reading (It was my electromagnetics
homework, exciting, literally. Do I know how to party or what?). He talked me
up as if he was actually interested in me.
He sat down and offered to buy me a drink. I had already had
a few, and I had class then next day. I declined. This seemed to irritate him.
He kept pressing me to have another drink. I thanked him politely again but
declined, growing more and more uneasy with his attention. Something seemed off.
He became even more agitated. He continued to talk to me though. He finally
invited me to leave the bar with him, stating that his place wasn’t far away. Feeling
red flags popping up like daisies, I thanked him again but said I had class the
next day, and I wasn’t interested.
Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say (in his mind). He
stood over my table, balling up his fists, sputtering.
“Go home and study? You can’t be serious,” he said, slurring
his words as he slurped his beer.
“No really. I have to get this done,” I said, tapping my
pencil to my book.
“You can do that later, you should come home with me instead
tonight, it’ll be a lot more fun than this crap.”
“No thank you,” I replied, putting up my hand. Inside, my
heart was hammering. The bar was crowded. While he was making a commotion, no
one was really paying attention, other than his group of friends standing near
the pool tables watching and laughing. It dawned on me that they had put him up
to this somehow. It was some sort of joke.
“What do you mean? You can’t turn me down,” he growled. The
hair on the back of my neck stood up at his words.
“Thanks, but I’m really not interested. I have work to do.”
I pointed to my book and notebook.
He flipped my book shut and leaned closer. “An ugly b—h
like you should be grateful that a guy would even talk to you. Let alone take
you home. I bet you go home and f–k your books.”
His words cut to the quick, but his body language and his
demeanor made the bile rise in my throat. One part of me wanted to lash back,
say something just as cruel and vicious. Many epic comebacks were whirling in
my head. Fortunately, common sense prevailed. I refrained from saying anything,
and managed to not cry while his d-bag friends dragged him out of the bar. He
continued to slur obscenities about how ugly and unworthy I was as he stormed
out with his buddies.
I sat at the table for a while, stunned. I waited long
enough to be sure that they were gone before I shoved my books into my backpack
and beelined it back to my building. I didn’t want to be caught alone on the street
by him and his friends. Once home, I broke down and cried. I don’t consider
myself a coward, but I was afraid to go back to my favorite dive bar for a long
time.
As I mentioned before, this wasn’t the first time I had been
bullied or snubbed for my looks or lack thereof, and it wouldn’t be my last.
But this encounter left me shaken to my core.
I had never told my husband about it, and really, I tried
not to think about it after that day. I just took it as a bad experience with a
jerk and moved on. But after yesterday I told Ray about it and we had a long, interesting
conversation. This scenario plays an integral part in encounters I have had,
not just about my appearance, but my role as a woman in engineering and
technical roles.
The man at the bar didn’t see me as a woman or even a
person. He saw me as merely an object. Something to be used and discarded with
no feeling. Something far inferior to himself. When I had the audacity to
reject his advances, he couldn’t believe that this thing, this creature thought
itself to be too good for a guy like him. It should be a given. I mean, in his
mind and world, he’s entitled to far more beautiful women than I. Women’s
bodies are at his disposal. I’m just a joke, a bet he’s out to win on a random
weeknight with his friends. How dare such a lowly creature not only reject him,
but humiliate him in front of his peers?
I have seen this same rage and frustration as I have advanced
both in the Navy and as an engineer. While many men I have worked with have
been fabulous peers, mentors and advocates, there are those who see my presence
as a threat. There are some men who still see women as far inferior to
themselves in every way. When a woman like me shows up in the workplace, they
do everything they can to derail her career. It can be subtle, just minor
disrespect on the jobsite. Or it can be blatant sabotage, cutting her off from
information, spreading lies and rumors, trying to undermine her position.
It can be a tough pill to swallow sometimes. I have relied
on my competence and my integrity to carry me through. There have been many
times I have gone home and cried into my pillow, because, let’s face it crying
at work is perceived as weakness (and I’m a total bawler).
I’m at a great point in my life. I have made a career out of
not having to rely on how I look to succeed. I am considered a technical expert
at what I do. When I walk into a facility or a jobsite at work, I’m greeted
with comments of:
“So glad you’re here”
“We know the problem is going to get solved now”
“Daniella can fix anything”
Believe it or not, that feels infinitely better than being told I’m pretty. It’s something that no one can take away from me. It is not something I was born with, it’s something I earned. My biggest goal and mission in life with my writing, my engineering and my public speaking is to help others to achieve that same feeling, no matter who they are, where they came from, or what they look like.
I’ve scraped the mud and gravel out of my steel-toed
Keene’s the best that I can, and tug the plastic shoe condoms over the top to
try to contain the mess. I know it’s an effort in futility. I’m just making a
short stop back at camp to grab a cup of hot tea from the break room (spike
rooms are what we call them), use the head, make some calls from my office,
then head back out into the field. I’m coated, head to toe in mud. Not unusual
this time of year. Most people assume that the dead of winter in the arctic is
what I dread most. The time of year when we’re hitting temperatures of 20, 30,
40 and even 50 below. The coldest I ever worked in up at Prudhoe was ambient
-65 with a windchill of -85. When it gets that cold, they suspend all outside
work. Emergencies only. It’s because exposed skin can freeze in less than five
minutes, and breathing air that cold can damage the lungs.
Me at work at one of our substations in late spring (June). Yes, that’s snow around the bottom of the substation
Nope. The time of year I dread are the shoulder
seasons, late spring and early fall. The time of year when we’re in cyclic freeze
and thaw. We can see temperatures at night in the minus teens, only to swing up
to above freezing during the day. Meanwhile, the sun is shining almost 18 hours
a day, 12 hours of it direct on the snow. This causes the top layers of snow
and gravel to melt. The pads and roads turn into a quagmire of mud. Even though
we are theoretically below freezing most of the day. This wreaks havoc on our
equipment, particularly our electrical infrastructure. The winds blow the mud
onto the powerlines, causing short circuits and outages. The permafrost heaves
and jacks, causing buried cable to stress and snap. The crews then have to dig
it up and repair it. I can count on being out in the field most of the day,
answering trouble calls with the line crews in addition to my normal field
engineering duties.
I make my way down the hallway of the old ATCO
trailers that make up the office complexes. This bolted-together relic from the
pipeline days, with wooden paneling lining the walls that was the height of
decoration in the mid-70’s has seen better days, but there’s no where else I’d
rather work.
The heat is cranked in the building and I unzip my
muddy jacket as I carry my hardhat and ice grips down the hall, feet dragging
with exhaustion after being out in the field all morning. Coming down the
hallway I see her and she sees me. I’m suddenly self-conscious of my messy
braid that I threw together 8 hours ago when I climbed out of bed in camp when
my radio went off.
She flips her perfectly flat-ironed long blonde hair
as she struts down the hall in painted on denim and 4-inch-high heels. I’m not
sure which glitters more under the old florescent lights; her long, dangling
earrings, her pink shellacked nails, or her glossed lips that are curled up in
a smirk as she sees me.
Can’t avoid her, there’s no where else to go, so I
smile back despite my weariness and I feel a flush rising to my cheeks as she
looks me up and down and begins to laugh.
“OH—My—God, Daniella. What happened?” she says,
putting her hands to her face.
I don’t have to look down at my mud-spattered FRC
pants and shirt to know what she’s talking about. “I’ve been out in the field,
working.” I reply, trying to extract myself from this awkward conversation.
She rolls her eyes. “You look terrible. Thank god I
don’t have to go out in the field and get all—dirty.”
“Sure,” I reply. I hold my head high and I keep
walking. I have a job to do.
I want to say a lot of things, but I bite my tongue.
Why? Because I’ve been there before, and it would be like talking to a brick
wall. I’ve had lunch with this woman (and talks with others like her). This is
the same woman who complains that she doesn’t make enough money in her job and
wishes she could make more. When I tell her or others like her they could
become a technician or an operator with only a two-year degree and make more
than I do, and have better job security, here are the excuses I hear:
Oh, but that’s so hard
I don’t have time for that
That’s a lot of physical labor
I don’t want to have to get dirty
I want to be able to dress pretty and
feminine for work, I don’t want to have to dress so drab (like you)
That takes a lot of math, and math is hard
I don’t want to be out in the cold or bad
weather
I get it. I really do. Everyone has certain choices
and expectations in life. Many of those, unfortunately are culturally embedded.
But I know this. The choices we make or don’t make define our careers, our
lives and our financial situations.
Me in Prudhoe Bay after my dunking summer of 2018!
We see a lot nowadays about following our passions,
pursuing our dreams. That chasing money is going to lead to a life of misery.
At the same time, we don’t hear enough as women about choosing a career that
can make us financially independent and stable. I was able to find that in my
multiple iterations of careers in STEM. Some would argue that I was lucky
somehow, I was born good at math and science. I would argue to the contrary. My
luck was that I had educators early on that instilled in me a desire to learn
despite the fact that it was difficult. That it didn’t matter whether I was a
boy or a girl, that I just needed to apply myself. My other stroke of luck may
have been my father. I had a father who was a power plant operator and a
mechanic on the side. He would let me come into the plant with him on payday to
pick up his check, and explain to me what the big generators and relays were
doing. He would let me watch him work on cars (and even sometimes help). This
instilled a curiosity about machinery and electricity that lives in me to this
day.
This is me standing beside a rotor for a frame 5 turbine.
I’m only a good engineer because I started out as a
good technician. I worked my way to where I am now because I wasn’t afraid to
get dirty and do a physical job. As a result, I can actually afford those nice
shoes and life I want when I am not in the field covered in mud. I don’t have
to rely on a man to finance it for me. I was able to chose a man to be in my
life because I wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with me.
Due to medical circumstances beyond my control, I
eventually couldn’t do the hard, physical part of the job anymore, but the
solid technical foundation I had laid carried forward into the rest of my
career, and made me the competent, highly qualified engineer that I am today.
It’s funny, when I started my website and built my blog page, it showed me how I could build categories. At first, I kind of chuckled to myself. Categories? Why do I need categories for random thoughts? Now that I am a few blogs in, I can now see some categories starting to evolve even without my intention to create them. This blog kind of straddles the Navy category and my current job.
Sunrise and sunset during the arctic winter.
Summers in Prudhoe Bay can have the few random nice days, but for the most part they are cool and wet. This precipitation leads to soft, wash boarded roads and treacherous, slow driving conditions.
The morning I wrote this post, I read the roads and pads report and sighed. It rained yesterday and is projected to rain again. Roads are going to be a sloppy, slow slog of wash-boarded gravel. The speed limit on almost all the roads according to the report has been dropped to 15 MPH, and I needed to drive across the field. As I got ready for work, I thought to myself, Today I need to wear the good sports bra.
Trust me, driving 20 to 30 miles over wash boarded roads is no fun, especially when certain body parts jiggle more than one would like. I realized that most of my co-workers probably don’t worry about this. It is neither a good or bad thing, it is just a fact. Most of the people who work up here are men. We women are a slim minority. Most of the women who work in Prudhoe Bay are housekeepers or admins. The few female technicians, operators and engineers are a tiny fraction of the overall workforce.
It made me think of a time in the Navy where I was asked a question about women’s underwear.
It was back in 1998. I had been picked up as a staff instructor and I was the only female staff member on crew at the time. On this day, I was standing watch as electrical operator, watching the board and taking logs. The hum of the HVAC unit and the conversation between myself and the reactor operator was suddenly broken by the curtain for maneuvering drawing back and the Engineering Watch Supervisor poking his head in and shouting, “Request permission to enter and speak to the Electrical Operator.”
The watch office granted permission without looking up from his logs. I however, looked up to see the entire watch team outside the door, peering in eagerly, staring at me.
My first thought was, “What fresh hell is this?”
He squeezed into the small room and even before making it to my bench he shouted, “Nipper (that was my maiden name), can women wear thongs in the Navy?”
Taken aback, my first response was something along the lines of “Hell if I know?” Then, “Why are you asking me?”
He was more than happy to oblige. One of our female students had put on a lot of weight since she joined the Navy. Sometimes it happens, especially in the Nuke program where you are parked on your backside for hours on end studying. She had become so much over weight that her uniforms no longer fit. Now if you have never been in the military, your uniform is supposed to look a certain way. Her supervisor, sensitive to her feelings told her she needed to purchase new uniforms because her old ones were no longer suitable, but he did not exactly tell her why.
Well, as I know some women do when they purchase a prom dress or a special occasion dress, this young sailor decided to buy her uniforms a size smaller to motivate herself to lose weight. While I can understand her logic, it backfired, literally. Unfortunately, while performing her duties, the seams of her pants across her backside did not survive the activity. They split down her rather ample backside. When she went to her supervisor and showed him her predicament he told her to go home and change. For some reason, though she had permission to go home, she decided to ask the Watch Supervisor what she should do.
Being a rather seasoned sailor, he advised her, “Just put some duct tape over it, you’ll be fine now, No one will notice.”
“I can’t, I’m wearing a thong,” was her reply, to which he responded by ordering her to go home and change, then running to where I was on watch to ask his question.
Just so you know this really blew their minds/freaked them out. Women can wear sexy underwear under their uniforms? Oh My God!!!!!! Personally, I kept it pretty comfy. Dungarees are uncomfortable enough. Granny panties all the way, but I digress.
Being the only female staff on crew, I was considered to be the font of knowledge on all things female. We looked it up. At least in the regulations at the time, it did not call out what type of underwear you could wear, just that you wear them. Believe it or not, it did specify color: white or skin tone under white uniforms, and any color under other uniforms.
So yes, we determined it was perfectly acceptable for women to wear thongs in the Navy.
I have thought about this often over the years. How much effort emphasis we women put into dressing and looking a certain way, even down to choosing just the right underwear under a garment, because heaven forbid people see a panty or bra line and know, gulp: we’re wearing underwear! OMG!
Me in front of one of my substations
While sure, men worry about looking neat, professional, and presentable, they do not obsess over it the way we do. The interesting thing I have learned, working around men for so many years, most of them do not notice our efforts at all. Sure, my husband notices when I dress nice, but we dress and look a certain way because the fashion industry says it is important, other women say it is important. But most of the guys I work with? I really don’t think they care.
Beautiful day in Prudhoe Bay!
Thanks for reading, and I hope your underwear is comfy and soft today.
Arctic ocean in winter with Polar Bear warning sign
“Off of the tour bus and into the food chain.”
Me in Prudhoe Bay after my dunking!
It’s a common joke in Alaska, and tonight, we decided to join other co-workers and take the Polar Plunge and jump into the Arctic Ocean. I’ve worked up here on and off for 11 years, and never done it, my co-worker Derek has worked 13. He told me about it over lunch and I decided after a rather rough week, why the heck not?
Unfortunately, not knowing that this event was coming, I had to run to the gift shop in camp and buy a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and pray they wouldn’t be completely see through after my dunking.
People on the beach waiting to go for it.
Beach at East Dock
We drove the long gravel road out to East Dock, both of us marveling at the fact we had never been out there in the summer. I’ve been out there countless times in winter, in the dark, helping with generators and other electrical equipment. I’ve been to other places on the arctic ocean in the summer and marveled at the sight of Prudhoe Bay without ice for the brief few weeks that it happens. But here we were going to jump in.
Okay, so jump is a relative term. Prudhoe bay is really shallow, for quite a long distance. We were warned in advance to wear shoes, since we were going to have to wade out until we got waist deep, then submerge over our heads, then slog back. The beach is rough gravel and sharp rocks. We signed in and began our slog our into the bay.
The water temperature, according to the little certificate I got was 32 degrees. The air temperature was 48. It didn’t feel so bad…at first. But the further out we got, the chillier we got.
As previously mentioned, the plan was to stop at waist deep, I should say I did. My friend tried to keep going. I think he forgot that I’m like a half a foot shorter than him. I’m not short by any means, but he’s pretty tall. Our conversation went about like this:
“How deep do we have to go?” I asked, puzzled that he kept walking seaward.
“Just waist-deep, then we dunk our heads under.”
“Where are you going?”
“I want to get deeper.”
“You go ahead, I’m dunking now.”
So we both dunked under, then trudged quickly back to shore, where a friend was trying to video said event. Unfortunately, the video didn’t record, but I got some pictures.
For those of you who have never been, I hope you liked my pictures of the arctic ocean. I feel privileged to have been able to work in such a unique place for so long.
My favorite picture of the Sag River where it meets the ocean during the few hours of light in winter
