No offense to accountants but do you suppose that, at professional conferences attended by accountants, that a typical icebreaker goes, “So Bob, how did you get into accounting?” “Well Jerry, I was six and looked at a bag of dried pinto beans on the kitchen counter and I thought to myself, I could count those. At that moment, I knew I would grow up to be a [ I can’t say it…].” I agree, that seems unlikely. But not as unlikely as Bob the surveyor answering a similar question by telling his friend Jerry that ever since he was a kid, he knew he would grow up to be a surveyor. Even in high school, most people haven’t identified Surveying as a potential career.
Step into an Exhibitor’s Hall, or better yet a bar room full of surveyors and you will hear over and over again that same question, which amounts to “Tell me your origin story”. And you know why that is: most of us stumbled into the profession of Land Surveying on our way to something else. Some of the stories are funny, some are sad, and some of them make you go, “Huh, I never thought of it like that.” All the stories are interesting. I have two friends who were both accomplished welders, one a Texan from a family of pipe fitters in the oil fields. He got out of welding because it was killing his back and knees. The other was from San Diego and had spent years welding in shipyards, but gave it up because it was so bad on his eyesight. Welding is a high paying vocation, maybe more so than Surveying, yet both of these fellows jumped into Surveying and went on to excel as Land Surveyors.
While not exactly the Book of Genesis, the Epic of Gilgamesh or the Popal Vuh, I offer my own story as an example of falling into Surveying and then realizing that falling had become a calling. One day the profession was not even my radar and a month later I knew I would never quit. As Agent Smith told Neo in the Matrix, “That is the sound of inevitability.”
I am an out of work 19 year old, fresh from moving back to my small town from the big city, where I moved to after high school and stayed for 11 months. Eleven really bad, juvenile delinquency-type months. Now I was back in my hometown with my tail between my legs, no job and nowhere to live. Like Chris Farley’s motivational speaker Matt Foley, I lived in a van, down by the river. Except the van was ‘51 Willys pickup with expired plates. I told myself I needed to find a job and get my life in order, so I paid a visit to the local Employment office where they had jobs posted on little slips on their bulletin board. I spotted one I was qualified for, a gas station attendant, and headed over to the local Shell station to apply… only to find that the position had already been filled. Head down, I trucked back to the Employment office to see what else was on the bulletin board, and there it was. “Surveyors wanted—no experience necessary”. “Hell”, I thought, “I can do that…(I wonder what surveyors do?)”.
As I sat in the visitor’s chair, across the desk from the Vice President of Chilton Engineering and went through the interview, it was apparent I had no idea what he was talking about, but I was eager, could start right away, and seemed reasonably attentive. Chilton was staffing up for a huge government project that entailed relocating the railyard from the middle of town to a spot a few miles east, rechanneling the meandering river into a nice straight line, moving the dual WPRR and SPRR rail lines next to the new river channel, building two new bridges across the river and much more. They needed bodies and they weren’t too particular, as long as those bodies were reliable. The job as a chainman was mine, if I wanted it. Did I have any questions? “Do I have to cut my hair?” was all I could muster up. He laughed and said no but I would have to wear boots. I spent the first year of my new career learning from two young engineers who had both been construction managers and were happy to teach me whatever I wanted to learn. The rest is history. (I did get a haircut—the hardhat would not fit right, otherwise.)
And then, this story, like probably everyone’s story, turns into a lesson about the value of mentors. The theme that binds all of us together is the generation of mentors who came before us, saw our potential and took time out of their own lives to help us reach it. Not everyone can be a mentor, for it takes patience and generosity, sometimes at the expense of efficiency. Some people are not willing to afford that sacrifice. In my case, several people did, including four people in particular, over a period of about 10 years, and because of that, I am where I am.
Mentoring and being mentored, are lifetime commitments. It means offering and taking advice when that advice might help. And it’s not always simply about technical skills. Those loud discussions about the tribulations of survey life that you and another LS in your office routinely have at 5 in the morning while nursing that first cup of coffee, for instance. He wants to go on the warpath about an agency review, you counsel patience. What is that, if not mentoring?
Everyone from the greenest person-of-chain, to the LS in the office next door to yours, has aspirations and a mentor who helps them on their way to achieving those goals, is never forgotten. So, are you mentoring those around you?
Carl C.de Baca, PLS, is a Nevada and California licensed land surveyor. He served as President of the Nevada Association of Land Surveyors, and has served on the Board of Governors and Board of Directors of the National Society of Professional Surveyors. He owned a business serving the mining industry for 11 years.