News from Patrick Flynn

Editor’s note: As readers will note below, I authored this post over a week ago.  Today some of the facts I discuss become “official” which, hopefully, explains the delay in posting.

I’m in a somewhat reflective mood as I write this on September 12, unsure when, or if, I’ll actually post it.  It all began fifteen days ago, or about a year ago, perhaps four years ago, or maybe eight years ago, depending on how you track the course of events.

Starting in chronological order, I began my tenure at the Alaska Railroad Corporation in May of 2001.  The decision to leave my preceding job as chief of staff to then-House Democratic Leader Ethan Berkowitz was a difficult one but, as I have often said, having entered the institution of marriage and purchased a home in the preceding year, spending four months in Alaska’s state capital became a lot less attractive than it previously seemed.

I frequently describe my career at the railroad as the “player to be named later.”  Initially hired as the Public Involvement Officer, a newly-created position meant to seek out, collate and respond to public comments about railroad projects, resignation of the incumbent Public Affairs Officer meant I transitioned into that post prior to my first day on the job.  A corporate re-shuffle in my first month inspired a return to school (at night), ultimately leading to the attainment of an MBA.  Then things really started to move.

First, I was sent off to conduct research and develop plans for the railroad’s rolling stock (freight cars).  Next, to spend a season with the Passenger Operations group.  After that, tasked with management training for six senior conductors promoted to Trainmaster positions.  That completed, service as a Transportation officer and, (sort of) finally, promotion to the number two slot in the Marketing division in July of 2005.

Looking back, the railroad was near an apex then.  Fuel shipments from North Pole to Anchorage, the largest revenue product in the freight business, were near all-time highs.  The passenger business, aided by investments in new equipment, went from slow growth to explosive growth.  Most other lines of business also enjoyed moderate to substantial increases in volume and, with that, revenue.

Then the world became a very different place.  A dispute between Flint Hills, which operates the North Pole refinery, and the state over the price of royalty oil led to substantial reductions in shipments of petroleum products; the pace of North Slope development and throughout the railbelt slowed, and the world economic downturn depressed tourism.  Seeing and reacting to those trends, last fall the railroad reorganized and my portfolio grew significantly.  Where I had focused on freight marketing & logistics two more departments I’d worked with before, Passenger Operations and Freight Car Fleet Management, were added to my scope of responsibility, albeit with fewer resources (people and budget) than those departments previously enjoyed.

And things got worse.  Flint Hills informed us about further production cuts, cruise companies announced plans to redeploy vessels away from Southcentral Alaska and other areas of railroad business remained in the doldrums.  That brings us to fifteen days ago.

As a somewhat senior railroad officer I’ve been leading one of several teams once again re-baselining various aspects of our business.  (To explain, think of this as what you might do in your household if your income declined – you’d look at what you really needed and what you could do without.)  Many of us involved in that process were invited to a Friday morning meeting where a senior officer directing the project announced that, while worthwhile, the process was too little, too late – we needed to make plans for quicker, more significant cuts, primarily aimed at the operating side of the business.

The following Monday I was unsurprised to learn from the railroad’s president that the cuts would go deeper still and that I was tasked with further reductions in the departments I supervised.  But, thanks to the Friday meeting, I’d had time to prepare.

Later that afternoon I met with both my boss and his boss and told them the same thing.  I could and would find further savings, in part by eliminating jobs, but if they wanted additional cuts I’d recommend taking my job prior to going after those I hadn’t cut – I felt the remaining people were simply too important to daily railroad operations.

Frankly, I hoped they wouldn’t have to take that step – a hope akin to buying a lottery ticket thinking and believing you might win – but, as (realistically) expected, I learned yesterday my job was slated for elimination.  I’m lucky, most others don’t know yet (hence my delay in posting).

It isn’t final yet, the board of directors will see the plan and ultimately decide whether or not to approve it later this month or in early October, but presuming anything other than their endorsement is folly.

This epistle isn’t meant as an appeal for sympathy.  While my day job is a significant part of my life, and something I’ve thoroughly enjoyed, it does (did) not ultimately define who I am.  And I’m fortunate that, as a born skinflint, I’ve saved money for rainy days like this.  Truth be told I’m more concerned about other railroaders whose jobs are on the line.  I’ll leave knowing I did my best to help the railroad succeed and then find something else to do; I hope they do, too.

Life is a funny thing – here’s hoping it’s laughing with me, rather than at me.

Regards,

Patrick

P.S.  For my friends in the fourth estate who might read this, please remember that my words are my own and do not represent the position of the Alaska Railroad Corporation.