It's a Primary!

"Below the 40th latitude there is no law; below the 50th no god; below the 60th no common sense and below the 70th no intelligence whatsoever."~~Kim Stanley Robinson

 There are two positions Raytheon Polar Services or NANA Services will offer you if you potentially make the cut after the interview process. The first is an "alternate" position. It sounds exactly like what it is. You're the backup person in case their first choice doesn't go thru in the end.

The second position is a "primary" position. Again, it's not rocket science. You got the job if your offer letter says "Primary."

I was offered an alternate position as a field camp cook at one of the remote field camps out of the Amundsen–Scott South Pole Station and then I was offered a primary position as a vehicle operator at the McMurdo Station. My fingers had been crossed for the Field Camp Cook position as it would have been more "career oriented," and well, just pretty damn amazing. I would have been cooking for a number of people ranging from 2-80 depending on what field camp I was stationed at. It would have been intense, amazing, awe inspiring. 

But, hey, beggars cannot be choosers. 

When they offered me the vehicle operator position and it said "PRIMARY," I took it. 

I woke up bright and early on June 6^th to a voice mail from a woman from the hiring department at Raytheon. I lived where I worked; my room was on the main floor of the little kayak shop, just off the bathroom. My room was like a step back into my old college days. When I had lived with my best friend Lacey in college, we used to have a loft and that was where I slept. Yes, I’ll admit, I might be 30 years old, but my living situation had not really progressed that far from my college days. But what can you do? This room was very similar, my bed up on the loft and each morning that I was not out in the field, I would emerge from my nest of blankets like a hamster from his cocoon. 

On this particular morning, I was still sitting in my bed, barely awake since I had just gotten back from the field the day before and was groggy from lack of sleep. I dialed the woman’s number, fighting my sleep coma, my heart racing. She was from the hiring department. That could mean only one thing. 

I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but that phone call resulted in me accepting a job offer from the Raytheon Antarctic Terminal Operations as a Vehicle Operator. I had been hired to drive 12 passenger vans and the infamous "Delta Buses."

She offered the job to me and I accepted without a moment’s hesitation. After hanging up, I sat in my bundle of blankets for a moment, dumbfounded. What had I just done? 

I had just accepted a job to work in Antarctica.

Normally, I’m a pretty quiet morning person. I walk into the kitchen dressed to paddle, heat my thermos of hot water for my clients as I get my breakfast going. I nod good morning silently to my co-workers/friends/house mates as they all wander in to do the same thing. I sit down and eat my breakfast, still quiet. I then brush my teeth, go out and load my paddling gear into the van. I run to the bathroom, throw on my guide jacket, walk into the office and sit down across from Wendy, my boss. At this point, I’m finally ready to greet the morning with a smile and a friendly word.

Well on this morning it was 7:00am and I didn’t even need to be up doing my daily morning routine. I had the day off. We’re typically given the next day off when we return from guiding a trip in the field. But as soon as I hit the “end call” button on my cell phone, I was bursting with adrenaline. 

I had to share my news with the world.

I threw my blankets off, scrambled down the ladder leading to the floor so fast I almost tumbled head over heels in my hurry to get down. I threw open my bedroom door and came skidding to a halt in the center of the kitchen.

There was only one person in the kitchen doing what I normally do, fixing their breakfast in peaceful quiet as they prepare themselves for a day of kayak guiding. I stood there for a silent moment, shaking with suppressed energy, and then I finally let it out.

“GUESS WHERE THIS GIRL’S GOING? ANTARCITCA!” I yelled. 

And then I made a fist pump into the air. 

For those of you that don’t know what a fist pump is. Here’s the Wikipedia definition: The fist pump is a celebratory gesture in which a fist is raised before the torso and subsequently drawn down and nearer to the body in a vigorous, swift motion. The fist pump is sometimes carried out in parts of the Western Hemisphere, Europe, and Japan (where it is known as guts pose) to denote enthusiasm, exuberance, or success and may be accompanied by a similarly energetic exclamation or vociferation. The gesture may be executed once or in a rapid series.

And if you still need further definition, here is a photo example:

I then sat down on the couch that sits in the corner of the kitchen and attempted to bring myself back to my normal morning peaceful quietness. But all efforts were lost. My mind was whirling, my heart was pattering uncontrollably. I was like an A.D.D. child. Every co-worker that walked into the kitchen that morning was greeted with an enthusiastic, “I’m going to Antarctica!” 

My foot was officially in the door. 

Now, to clarify that statement. When I say, my foot was in the door, what I really meant was, I had the barest of a toe hold into the world of Polar Services. I had been offered a job, but I still had a whole lot of clearance to wallow through before I was in the clear.