I can understand that there's also difficult days when flying. I can understand some things about rutines and getting used to some parts of the work, which is a work, finally, but even though I could not separate it from the passion part.
You described, for sure, the almost worst possible day for a pilot, but for sure there are not too many like this one. I must confess that such a situation would be maybe too much for anybody, but my policy when things go wrong is take them easy and try to overpass the moment in the best possible way. Anyhow, in such a situation, the solutions come often from people around the pilot (technics, mechanics, traffic control, doctors, ground staff for coordination, etc.). His/her responsability is somehow limited to decide if taking off or not and in which circumstances. I mean that the pilot does not have to take drunks off the plane, does not have to change the punctured tyre, does not have to get provided new slots by himself, does not have to close the door. Does not have to fix the flush motor and has not to search for an alternate airport. Neither has he/she to organize the busses, nor to organize the paramedics or find a room to overnight.
As HeavyJet writes, flying the airplane IS the fun part of the work, but also is mostly the part executed by him/herself, and wil be executed only when everyone around will have properly done whatever must be done.
And thank you for the tittle of "Sir".
Yes, pilot IS a job. But unlike wine selling, where I fell almost without noticing it, and in the need of a job, being a pilot is something everyone has to struggle hard for, and (I hope) is because of a pleasure expected from it.
Heavy: although I "fell" across the wine selling job almost without noticing it, as I wrote above, and although I'd prefer too much to be flying rather than in a cave, I owe to tell you and everybody else that yes, I have a passion for this job, passion which I created to myself since the very first moment I was forced to start there.
To all of you:
Thanks to my passion, the touristic wine business has become of myself, and thanks to my everyday passion (still now, after 14 years) for it, learning also languages (I currently speak seven fluent ones and have knowledge of another two), I opened my market from just French and Italian clients to Belgian, Swiss due to the original languages, but also to all kind of ex-Sovietics due to russian, Greeks and Cypriots due to greek, Portuguese and Brazilian due to Portuguese, Germans, Austrians and rest of Swiss because of German, British, Americans, Canadians, Australians etc., due to English, and onother wide "variety", such as Netherlanders, Scandinavians, Turks, Yugoslavians, and even Japanese, thanks to intermediary languages.
And for sure I can tell you that I have more hard days than a pilot has, specially when after one day having slept very little because my 12-day old child was awaken all night, and going to the factory because I've run out of plastic degustation glasses, and going to the bank because I have to provide myself of coins for giving rests, and arriving late because a truck accident had blocked the highway under heavy rain, and calling the service because the fridge has stopped chilling, I find myself alone with a 65-people group in front of me, a box bottom opens, breaking three bottles on the floor, at the same time that the dataphone does not accept a credit card and the telephone rings, while some people want to pay in Pesetas (local currency), some others want to pay in French Francs, some other in Italian Lire, and some more in travelers' cheques, from which some are in Dollars, some others in Pesetas and some others in Euros. And another one asks if he will be getting the rest in dollars when paying in dollars, and to what rate I count them, the day the radio said the exchange had had a big difference with the previous day, and that person does not accept my suggestion of rate, which I otherwise take directly from my bank and do not decide by myself. All of these in a peak touristic day like 28, 29 and 30 of December, when, instead of having three or four groups as in normal high season, there's a continuous flow (otherwise good) of sixteen groups concentrated in the two hours before and after lunch, reason for which I have remained with my hungry stomach empty, and with the guides arguing who's first or if the one who came in overpassed the turn of the one having arrived before. And the solution to all of this must come from my head and nobody's else just immediately.
Am I entitled enough for writing comments about the passion for the job or not?
As I stated before I did not try to offend anybody, but specially here in Spain, there are too many people who rush out of work as soon as possible. Maybe my idea of flying is a little bit too much poetic, as HeavyJet writes, but, despite difficult moments, being a pilot is one of the few jobs that TRULY respond to a passion since the very beginning (otherwise the "candidate" does not begin with it).
Hope I have clarified all what I meant.
Happy New Year to everybody
Best turbulences, too.