around, Becca was relieved to find they were alone, despite the fact that crews strode with purpose past them in both directions. It was probably the best opportunity she’d get to speak to Sirus about more personal matters. He was on the hiring committee for the Boise job, which was one of the reasons she’d accepted the Flathead fire assignment.
“Speaking of chances,” Becca began, “what do you think my chances are for that Fire Behavior management position in Boise?” She barely made it out of the way of a rowdy crew carrying shovels and Pulaskis, striding toward the parking lot and their transport to the DP.
At the door to the Fire Behavior tent, Becca looked up at Sirus, who still hadn’t answered her question. His expression wasn’t encouraging. Her hopes suddenly sank to her toes.
“They’re not going to give it to me, are they?” Becca managed to say.
“I’m sorry,” Sirus said, looking steadily into her eyes. She admired his directness, even as she dreaded his take on the situation. “You have everything they’re looking for—education, experience, and years with NIFC. And you’ve earned a lot of respect for your creative, if sometimes conservative, fire strategies.”
Ignoring the label that she was too conservative—who could be too conservative when lives were at stake?— Becca waited for the but.
She glanced down at her belly. It had to be because she was pregnant. Some good old boy who had a friend on the interviewing committee and who let the simulation program do his work for him was going to get the job. It really was a man’s world.
Still, she had to ask, “Why?”
He didn’t hesitate. “It’s your management skills.”
“My…my what?” Becca couldn’t believe her ears. “How could they say that? Every one of my direct reports has gone on to do well.”
The expression on Sirus’s face was solemn. “Many of your direct reports have gone on to do well in other fields.”
Becca’s equilibrium shifted, although her instability had nothing to do with the baby. What did you say in a situationlike this? Defend yourself? Or crawl in some hole and lick your wounds?
“They weren’t suited to the work.” Becca lifted her chin, hugging her clipboard so tightly that the baby tried to elbow it aside. She loosened her grip while she tried to make Sirus see things from her perspective. “Most of these people—let’s face it, they send kids out here most of the time—don’t know what they want to be when they grow up.” Julia came to mind, bright, but with a mindset closed to less high-tech methods of information gathering.
Becca glanced around, but her assistant was nowhere in sight. “Too many see it as a step up in pay grade rather than a calling. They seem surprised when they realize the day doesn’t begin at eight and end at five, or that they can’t just bring a printout to a meeting and read from it.”
Sirus regarded her silently for a moment before looking away. “You know how things are around here. We have to deal with body count and open slots. If NIFC gets someone in the position, they’d rather not have them looking to move or quit after their first season.”
“You’re saying that I scare these people out of the job?” She refused to believe that. She tried so hard to help her direct reports improve on their weaknesses, to weed out the ones she felt weren’t suited to the work, and this was the thanks she got?
He touched her shoulder ever so briefly—a condolence gesture. “What you’ve told me makes a lot of sense and gives me a new perspective, but—”
“That’s the way they see it back in Boise.” She bit her lip looking anywhere but at him. What was she going to do? “I’m pregnant,” she let slip lamely, her nose stinging with the desire to cry. That’s all she needed, a breakdown in front of her boss.
“There are other positions in Boise that need good people,” Sirus suggested gently. “I’m sure they’d love to have
“Speaking of chances,” Becca began, “what do you think my chances are for that Fire Behavior management position in Boise?” She barely made it out of the way of a rowdy crew carrying shovels and Pulaskis, striding toward the parking lot and their transport to the DP.
At the door to the Fire Behavior tent, Becca looked up at Sirus, who still hadn’t answered her question. His expression wasn’t encouraging. Her hopes suddenly sank to her toes.
“They’re not going to give it to me, are they?” Becca managed to say.
“I’m sorry,” Sirus said, looking steadily into her eyes. She admired his directness, even as she dreaded his take on the situation. “You have everything they’re looking for—education, experience, and years with NIFC. And you’ve earned a lot of respect for your creative, if sometimes conservative, fire strategies.”
Ignoring the label that she was too conservative—who could be too conservative when lives were at stake?— Becca waited for the but.
She glanced down at her belly. It had to be because she was pregnant. Some good old boy who had a friend on the interviewing committee and who let the simulation program do his work for him was going to get the job. It really was a man’s world.
Still, she had to ask, “Why?”
He didn’t hesitate. “It’s your management skills.”
“My…my what?” Becca couldn’t believe her ears. “How could they say that? Every one of my direct reports has gone on to do well.”
The expression on Sirus’s face was solemn. “Many of your direct reports have gone on to do well in other fields.”
Becca’s equilibrium shifted, although her instability had nothing to do with the baby. What did you say in a situationlike this? Defend yourself? Or crawl in some hole and lick your wounds?
“They weren’t suited to the work.” Becca lifted her chin, hugging her clipboard so tightly that the baby tried to elbow it aside. She loosened her grip while she tried to make Sirus see things from her perspective. “Most of these people—let’s face it, they send kids out here most of the time—don’t know what they want to be when they grow up.” Julia came to mind, bright, but with a mindset closed to less high-tech methods of information gathering.
Becca glanced around, but her assistant was nowhere in sight. “Too many see it as a step up in pay grade rather than a calling. They seem surprised when they realize the day doesn’t begin at eight and end at five, or that they can’t just bring a printout to a meeting and read from it.”
Sirus regarded her silently for a moment before looking away. “You know how things are around here. We have to deal with body count and open slots. If NIFC gets someone in the position, they’d rather not have them looking to move or quit after their first season.”
“You’re saying that I scare these people out of the job?” She refused to believe that. She tried so hard to help her direct reports improve on their weaknesses, to weed out the ones she felt weren’t suited to the work, and this was the thanks she got?
He touched her shoulder ever so briefly—a condolence gesture. “What you’ve told me makes a lot of sense and gives me a new perspective, but—”
“That’s the way they see it back in Boise.” She bit her lip looking anywhere but at him. What was she going to do? “I’m pregnant,” she let slip lamely, her nose stinging with the desire to cry. That’s all she needed, a breakdown in front of her boss.
“There are other positions in Boise that need good people,” Sirus suggested gently. “I’m sure they’d love to have