Sunday was just like any other weekend morning since arriving in town 6 weeks ago. I awoke around 7 AM and stayed in bed until the nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me of what I was scheduled to do on the next day. I reluctantly rolled out of bed to get ready for the day. Walking out the door of the room, I grabbed a peanut butter toasted bagel and my 25 pound kit of mental goodies en route to a Starbucks.
Early on during my training, I started venturing further and further from the hotel to various coffee shops. I figured if I was going to be living in this area, I might as well use this as a chance to get to know the city. The particular area that I enjoyed the most was an area called the Central West End. Centrally located on, well, the west end of the city, the CWE is a young, vibrant community in the heart of the city's university and medical district. The sidewalks on one of the main streets are packed with tables from the various restaurants and coffee shops and have a small town feel of Main Street.
So, on Sunday I found myself in the CWE with my books. Over the previous 6 weeks, we had gone over everything and more. Now, I had to prepare for the final exam, only this final exam would be unlike any college final. There would be no multiple choice, no short answer. If a weakness was detected, the exam would rewrite itself to expose the lack of knowledge. So, I had to make sure I knew everything I could.
With the exception of the few weekends I went home, every single day was filled with me at a coffee shop for a minimum of 3 hours reviewing what we had learned during the day. On weekends, I easily doubled this effort. On this particular weekend, my nerves were beginning to kick in. I felt relatively prepared but I didn't want any uncertainty to set in during the oral. Second guessing myself would lead me down a road I didn't want to go down. I knew I had to put every ounce of effort into ensuring I knew everything.
After arriving a little after 9 AM, I finally decided to call it quits at 5 PM. Like a time-lapse movie, hundreds of people had entered and left during my stay. Each time I would look up from my books, the landscape of people at the tables around me changed. Two pretty girls sat down across from me and I made a mental note to say something. The next time I looked up, they had turned into an old man talking to himself. Oh well, I'm too busy for that now anyways, I thought to myself as a consolation.
After lunch, I figured it had warmed up enough outside to sit on the sidewalk. I packed my goodies and moved my work station to the small table outside. It was a pleasant 70 degrees in St Louis and I took a few minutes to take in the warm weather while watching the bustling activity on the street. Every few minutes, someone would come jogging or riding by and have to avoid large clumps of people standing around talking; the brunch crowd was beginning their migration out of the restaurants. Many mindlessly walked along the sidewalks stopping briefly to examine the newly changing leaves of the oak trees. It was so peaceful.
At the end of my stay, I found myself staring off at nothing. I had answered every question I had, memorized every number associated with the airplane, redrawn schematics in my notes. After 6 weeks, I finally felt as prepared as I could be. As I drove home, I turned my radio off and listened to the hum of my tires on the road to calm my increasingly active nerves. I wasn't ready. I couldn't be ready. I'm not ready.
That night, I tossed at turned for hours before falling asleep. My dreams, not to be outdone by my conscious mind's activities from the day filled my sleep with numbers and drawings. After staring at the ceiling for an hour the next morning, I prepared for the big 2-hour exam. I attempted to study but could no longer concentrate. I would look over my note cards and, instead of saying the number associated with the various limitations of the airplane, would say in rapid succession, "I know it, I know it, I know it." At that point, I'd far exceeded the point of diminishing returns. If I didn't know it now, I wasn't going to know it.
At 10 am, I walked to the room where my examiner was filling out paperwork while waiting for me. "Fill this out. Write LEGIBLY. I'll be back in 5 minutes." When he returned, he sat next to me and reviewed my paperwork, licenses, passport, and medical. While he was writing down my passport number, he asked, "what is the maximum ITT on APU start?" Well, I guess we're starting. He must not be in the mood for small talk. I quickly answered after I realized he was asking me a question. He reached for my licence and while he was reviewing it, he asked another question, "What is the maximum rotor speed of the APU?" Again, I answered quickly and confidently. "Okay, what's your employee number and where are you based?"
After answering the question, I said, "I like those questions. They were easy." He never looked up but I saw him smirk when he responded, "Well, I can make them harder if you'd like." I nervously laughed aloud and wasn't sure if my attempt to cut the tension was received well or not.
Then the rapid fire questions started. He asked memorized procedures and expected perfection. He pointed at this button and then that switch. "What does this do? When is its automatic logic? Does it turn off on its own? How about this? What makes this work?" He jumped around the entire cockpit and after almost every single question, I had a quick and correct answer. He never acknowledged whether it was correct but simply moved onto the next question. Every so often, I would stop to think. I was pretty sure I knew the answer but wanted to make sure I had the correct one.
He paused. I saw him just staring at the cockpit layout presented on the graphic flight simulator. I peeked at my watch and noticed that only 35 minutes elapsed. Not looking at me still, he asked another question, "what does that red button there do?" The answer was easy. Red buttons I spent extra time learning what they did. They were red for a reason. After another brief pause, he said, "Okay, well, I guess you know your stuff. Great job. Any questions for me?" I felt perplexed. That was it? It's over? Was it that easy or was I just that prepared? The examiner had a reputation for being the toughest one in the company. I guess I was prepared.
I knew he was going to be my simulator examiner as well, so I made sure to ask him what he saw people mess up mostly in the sim and what some of the biggest weaknesses were. He spent 20 minutes venting on the things that frustrated him. Well played Chris. He just gave you some of his emphasized items.
I walked out of the building at 11, an hour earlier than I had anticipated. I couldn't believe that the culmination of all the studying I'd done was already over. It wasn't painful. It was just another test among the dozens that I'd taken in the past. So, to reward myself, I drove back to my room, changed into something comfortable and headed out to watch a movie. A $5 matinee? Yes please.
No comments:
Post a Comment