morethanenoughtruth

Most of the companies that hired me for engineering jobs during the 60’s, and 70’s were willing to give me a chance to work for half pay while they reaped the benefit.  Texas Electric Service Company (TESCO) was consistent with that behavior, but in other ways was an outlier.  I signed up with them during a lull when engineering jobs were hard to find, and the country was flirting with economic recession.  TESCO’s corporate culture was decidedly Neanderthal, supervision applied with a sneering cynicism, co-worker camaraderie a thing only good ol’ boys aspired to.

A rough stretch to come was obvious when on my first day at the job and ready to work, the plant secretary introduced me around as “our new female engineer.”  I found out soon enough that I was to have no work assignments.  My job was to sit and draw pay.  A visit with plant manager, Ralph McCullough, clarified the situation.

“Why are you complaining?” he asked.  “That other woman we hired, the electrical engineer, she doesn’t do anything but knit in the ladies room.  That’s all I want her to do.  She gets it.  Why can’t you?”

 “I won’t do that!”  was my retort, feeling my face getting redder with every word.  “I’ve got to do something useful—a way to learn and grow.  This can’t all be a waste of time.”

Mr. McCullough leaned back in his burgundy executive chair.  Legs up, enjoying a full-body stretch, he flexed his arms, and locked his hands behind his head.  He gave me a fish eye and bared a toothy rictus.

“How about you spend six weeks in every department?” he postulated. “When you get through with that, maybe you’ll know a little something about what we men do here.”

Sure I had said too much already, I agreed and got out of there in a hurry.  The next six months, was spent climbing all over the rigs.  It was autodidactive experience, a hard-won self-education.  TESCO operates generating stations throughout the state, providing electric power across 266,807 square miles, 8.8% of US continental land mass, and the Fort Worth site was just completing construction on its third gas-fired turbine generator.  It was an interesting time to be given free access to a complex and busy site.  I climbed absolutely everywhere, up and down ladders, into tanks, storage lockers, and control rooms.  I even hung out in maintenance facilities.  This was before the advent of office cubicles for each person.  Except for top management, all technical staff occupied one open bay, lined up in rows of workbenches and stools.  Twenty-two people shared one phone.

Primitive office accommodations didn’t bother me.  I spent all my time checking out the facility, learning how it made electricity and how it transferred that energy to run a vibrant metroplex economy.  I made sketches, charts, and drawings of lessons learned, hoping they might help other newbies someday suffering in my same situation.

Mostly I stayed out of everybody’s way.  Hardly anybody questioned my activity.  I seemed to know what I was about, so they just left me alone.  One group manager let me calibrate meters—a major victory.

When #3’s new turbine was ready to come on line, a festive occasion was announced, planned and executed.  The mayor was duly invited.  On the designated day, a whole group of city officials showed up for a tour of the facility and the ceremonial throwing of the switch that would connect Plant #3 with city power.  As a member of the technical staff, I was included in the festivity.  I watched, listened, and learned.  Having accepted that at TESCO women were best seen but not heard, I kept the quiet peace.

The culmination of the ceremony was a gathering of the entire visiting retinue in the open sided shelter in front of the plant, speaking certain ritualized statements, and then officially moving the big main power switch to the “on” position.  The atmosphere was festive.  Visitors chattered and asked questions.  Mr. McCullough was in his element.  It was his time to be “the man.”

The group gathered under the roofed shelter that protected the main plant power switching array.  Explanations followed.  Accolades were intoned.  Credits were acknowledged.  Persons of import were praised.  Then the lead power supervisor stepped forward.  He positioned himself right before the switches and placed his hand on one of the massive lever arms.  McCullough gave the official word.  Everybody held their breath.

That’s when I yelled, “Stop!  Don’t you dare touch that switch!”

Manager McCullough turned eggplant purple.  “What are you talking about?” he growled.

“Look,” I pointed, “That’s the wrong switch.  You’re getting ready to turn off #2.”

McCullough spun around, did a double-take, and ordered the required change.  The power supervisor gulped, cleared his vision with a swipe of his sleeve, and moved his hand to the correct switch.  He pulled hard, moved it to the “on” position, and we could hear TESCO Turbine #3 lumber into service.  Later the supervisor, contrite but thankful, explained that I had saved all our lives.  He sat down, wiped his brow, and went on to explain, “If I had actuated that switch, effectively opening the main circuit on an operating power plant, there would have been a massive explosion.  Many of our gathering would have been killed.”

Having completed my six months of visiting departments, I returned to the plant manager’s office.  I suggested improving the company’s position by offering to initiate and provide sensitivity training plant-wide.  I explained that this would help integrate all the women who were being hired by TESCO statewide, then paid to sit and do nothing.  Near a quarter million square miles of land, womanned by intelligent, educated, experienced engineers, relegated to performance of stitchery in TESCO ladies rooms, was a force that would eventually be reckoned with.

His response was simple and decisive.  “You’re fired!”

As I packed up my personals, the power supervisor came by to shake my hand.  He bent over and whispered, “He had to get rid of you, you know, because you saved his sorry ass.  No good deed goes unpunished.  Your offer of sensitivity training was just an excuse.  You’ll do ok on the outside.”

“Yea, I know,” I agreed but held the rest of my musing in studied silence:  Most other companies were greedy.  Some were insensitive.  But I never met another one that so perfected the art of being both mean and perverse—not to mention stupid.

In February of 2021, a time has come for me to have the last laugh.  As a polar vortex delivers genuine cold to an ill-prepared Texas, TESCO along with Texas state government is exposed for what it is, a short-sighted good ol’ boys network.  It’s sad that so many good people have to be inconvenienced and even harmed by such selfish disregard for humankind.  Maybe someday we can give it back to Mexico, if perhaps they are inclined to take it.