The Contracting Lifecycle

As I've mentioned before, I work as a contract engineer. While my title and company remain the same from month to month, my projects and clients are transient. After months of working closely with clients on a project, when I've finished the job I pack up my laptop bag and move on. Sometimes I'll end up working with the same people in a matter of days, sometimes I won't work with them for a year or more.

Leaving at the end of a project can be kind of awkward and anticlimactic; people don't know if they should make some grand gesture to say goodbye, or if they should just say "have a nice life" and move on. One client insisted on me stopping by his desk on my way out after completing a six month project.

He shook my hand and proclaimed, "It's been a pleasure working with you. You've done excellent work here."

Yet somehow after six months of pouring my heart and soul into the project, even that kind ending felt like I'd lost something. For six months I had talked with the same cast of characters every day, stayed in the same hotel, and even eaten lunch at the same table in the same chair at the the same time with the same friends. And while I was doing so much the same, I felt like I was changing my environment. I fixed a complex system, I got two divisions who hadn't worked together in over a decade to play nice, I created real friendships, and I earned the respect and trust of people who had initially doubted me. As a result, I felt like going back to my "home office" meant that I was losing my new friends and that I would not get to enjoy being the respected engineer I had become.

This isn't to say that there aren't times when I am not super excited to get off of a project (because there are), or that I would ever try to extend out a project to keep my life constant (because I wouldn't). Just that as I was walking out of my client's office on the last day, I felt a sense of loss even though it was another win on my resume.

I definitely moped around  internally for a few days upon returning home, although I was all smiles when coworkers I'd spoken to once a year ago greeted me back to the office like a long lost sister. I can never tell how to deal with people who proclaim how much they missed me when I don't even remember their name. Luckily for me, by the end of the week I had another assignment at an old site but with a new team.

After walking through a cubicle maze which doubles as a menagerie of old clients and friends, I headed into a room of unfamiliar faces filled with doubt at who this stranger was. I could tell they were wondering if I was truly capable of helping, everyone does at the beginning. I took a deep breath, and braced myself to start from scratch again. This time, I told myself, it would be easier since my reputation preceded me. I extended my hand to each man in the room (since there were, of course, no women) and said, "Hello, I'm Vanessa. I'm the lead engineer for this project."

When you keep going around, it's hard to feel like you are moving up.

When it's all said and done there will always be an expiration date, and there will always be a new project, and a new team. The trick for me is allowing myself to care deeply about each new project regardless of the expiration date, as that is what drives me to succeed. The projects may be temporary to me, but they are permanent for my clients.

Love,

Vanessa

How to Handle Winking

Winking in my generation has seemingly become something that lives solely in the world of digital communications. I send out tons of winking emoticons to clarify that I am expressing sarcasm, like:

And my friends (and coworkers) send me winking emails, texts, and instant messages back. But in real life, my age mates exclusively wink if they are flirting or making some sort of sexual advance. Even when flirting, live winks are still a dying art form. 

So you can understand that when I was at a new site, and my 64 year old client winked at me when he announced that I was on the teleconference line, I was totally thrown off of my game. Little did I know that that wink was only one of an avalanche of winks that would define my time there. 

The security guard winked at me when I had to take off my shoes for the metal detector, strangers winked at me after saying "Hello" as we passed each other in the hallway, co-workers winked at me when they teased me, and even bartenders after work winked at me when I sat down. One time two men I didn't know were walking in front of me poking fun at each other. After making a particularly sarcastic comment, one of them turned around to me and gave me a big wink. I didn't even know he knew I was there. I actually stopped walking for a split second because it knocked me so much off-kilter. 

I really didn't know what to do about it.

In fact, while I was in this town, I was winked at over five times a day. It was as if I'd stumbled across one of those Amazonian tribes who are so out of contact with the rest of the world that they have their own distinct culture where winking is still a thing. After having spent years in a wink-less world, this left me kind of stunned. Only men were winking at me, and the first few winks made me wonder if this behavior was some kind of very confusing and misplaced flirting from men older than my father. But I quickly realized that in this microcosm, men dole out winks for all sorts of non-flirting reasons- like just acknowledging that they see you.

The frequency of the winking still left me reaching for how I was expected to react. I mean, what am I supposed to do after a wink? Wink back? The last time I live winked at somebody was probably as a child, when my parents goaded me into an exaggerated wink for their entertainment. My winking muscles had atrophied from years of disuse, and any attempt at returning a wink looks more like a painful face spasm than anything else.

Or maybe I was just supposed to smile?  Or laugh? Or look very serious? Or maybe I was supposed to catch the wink like a kiss that's been blown to you and put it in my pocket? Whatever I was supposed to do I just ended up standing there mouth agape as I searched for the appropriate reaction, and I'm quite certain that was not it. 

I've settled now on the fact that I can just give a warm smile back to show that I have received a wink. But, I'm sure I'll forget that ten years from now, or whenever the next time it is that I stumble upon a high density winking area like that. 

Love, 

Vanessa

PS. When was the last time somebody winked at you?

Why Most Engineers Don't Have Blogs

Because when push comes to shove 40 hour weeks can only account for the time I spent at work Monday to Wednesday,  weekends are but mere suggestions,  and I occasionally spend 12 hour days just arguing with people twice my age to ensure that my system works properly. Since I am passionate about my work and have what I believe to be a strong moral compass,  being confronted with individuals who are blowing smoke up my ass day in and day out so they can make a quick buck is extremely disenchanting. I think perhaps it is right of passage to adulthood to have the pleasure of a grown man looking you in the eye and lying about something that matters. And I think it is a right of passage to becoming a responsible adult to learn when and how to tell people you fucked up.

As much as I have ideas brewing,  and opinions I want to share,  I have to admit that in weeks like these I just come home and collapse in my bed,  and only get up in time to go to work again (in less than 7 hours).

At the same time,  I hate and love every moment. Every time I find out somebody has screwed me over,  I also know that I've caught a mistake before it causes damage. And I know every moment that I need to stay up,  every person I need to yell at,  every person I have to take yelling at me,  I know it's all worth it. And I don't want to risk loosing the ability to catch those errors.

And that is why I think most other serious engineers tend to stay away from blogging. Not because we can't write,  nor because we don't have opinions. Writing in a public forum is a risk,  and one with outcomes that cannot be accurately calculated. It's exactly what we are trained to avoid. And the risk of getting caught couldn't be higher; our dream of being able to continue to create is at stake.

Yet I still am writing. Maybe because I'm crazy,  maybe because I think it's important that people know that engineering is more than sitting on your butt and collecting a big pay check,  and maybe it is because I believe that discussing issues that plague our industry is the only way to fix it. But either way,  I'm going to keep on blogging and making crappy stick figures (at least for the near future).

Love,

Vanessa

PS Why do you think we don't have more active engineering blogging community?