Chapter 6      

Sometimes the right thing happens for the wrong reason!

It was a truly excellent breakfast that started my journey to Antarctica. The sort of breakfast that you don't want to finish. The coffee was sensational. Fresh, locally roasted beans, ground just right, brewed in a gleamingly clean espresso machine, matched with perfectly heated milk in a smooth-as-silk foam, served in a glass by cute boys in black t-shirts and little beards. The toast, local sourdough from the Italian bakers in Gertrude Street, freshly churned butter and perfect jam with just the right amount of whole fruit. All that passed too quickly, and I didn't want to leave just yet. So I settled in and turned to the unread bits of the newspaper. The car section? Not interesting at the moment — I had a nice government car to get me around. The finance section? Not really. While I have a good handle on business, reading advertisements for the latest derivatives trading platforms (this was 2003 and they were still the ‘hot thing’!) didn't appeal to me. With only mild interest I turned to the careers section. It might have an engaging piece on a troubled kid who went back to school and landed a good job, or an inspiring article by a business leader. So why not?

How do you recruit for values?

I wasn't looking for a job. And if anyone from my workplace happened to see me I might have had some explaining to do. At 33, I was the youngest Chief Ranger in Parks Victoria, responsible for dozens of park rangers, many seasonal firefighters and the safe recreation of millions of visitors to the parks each year. I had a great track record in both my hands-on work and my more corporate roles. So I wasn't looking for a job. Rather, I had been grappling with an idea that I had read about recently. It wasn't a new idea by any means, but it was new to me and to my organisation. It went along the following lines:

‘You can teach a person skills but you can't teach them values. So recruit for values and then teach the skills.’

The thing that caught my eye that morning was a photograph of penguins — in the careers section! It was captioned ‘Men and women of Australia — have you ever wanted to work in Antarctica?’ As I looked more closely at the advertisement I noted that the Australian Antarctic Division (AAD) was looking for an Expedition Station Leader. And, according to the advertisement, they were recruiting predominantly for a set of values.

I was intrigued. I ripped out the ad and mused, if I apply, I'll get to see how they do this. I'll experience first-hand the set of interview questions they ask to drill into personal values. I'll note them down when I come out of the interview and take them back to Parks Victoria.

I didn't learn until much later that their interview process was, well, unique. It was not a single one-hour interview or even a series of interviews. The Station Leader recruitment process stretched over five months and included a week-long boot camp in the central highlands of Tasmania. Oops.

The selection process

I did a bit of research on Antarctica to make sure I had a little background on Australia's role down there. When I say a bit, I really mean it. Yahoo Search and my old encyclopaedias were about it. Then I set to work putting a really good application together.

The initial application called for two very comprehensive character references. I chose people who I worked with: Brett Cheatley, my direct supervisor, and Annie Volkering, who was a layer above me in our hierarchy. Although I hadn't worked directly with Annie for several years, we had a great and open relationship. She had tracked my progress through the organisation and coached and mentored me along the way. She knew me better than anyone I'd worked with over the past 16 years.

I chose to go a step further and also asked Emma Danby to be a referee. Emma reported directly to me. My reasoning at the time was that it would make sense for the selection people to get an idea of both my leadership qualities and my ability to follow leaders. I saw the questions my referees would be asked. They were extensive and it would take real effort to answer them well. Fortunately, once I sent my application off it would be just between them and the Antarctic division.

I vividly remember the day I posted off my application. The night before, I had just sealed the envelope and was writing my name and address on the back when my phone rang. ‘Rachael, you're needed on the strike team at the Harrietville fire at 6 am.’ Even as Chief Ranger I still loved being ‘on the tools’ and physically fighting fires. There was something uniquely satisfying about slogging away at a fire with a team who were strangers in the morning but comrades by nightfall. A different management hierarchy was in place for firefighting. I might have been Chief Ranger in my day job but at the fires I was the lowest level general firefighter, one of many on the front line, all equal — and all very dirty! It was rare that my fellow strike team members even knew I was the Chief Ranger. I enjoyed the anonymity and camaraderie while it lasted, because eventually they would find out and everything would change. As our convoy drove to the fires I briefly pulled over and dropped the application into a postbox, thinking, ‘Well, here goes nothing’. I spent the next two weeks fighting fires and didn't think about my application until I had returned from the campaign.

It turned out that 140 people applied for two Station Leader roles, one for Davis Station and the other for Mawson Station. Knowing so little about Antarctica or the culture there, I was completely indifferent about which station I might be placed at. I didn't ski, hated cold weather and had been to the snow once — on a Grade 6 school excursion. Besides, I didn't really want the job. I just wanted to learn how they recruited for ‘cultural fit’ rather than technical skill. After six weeks I still hadn't heard back and the application was becoming a distant memory.

The phone interview

When the Australian Antarctic Division (AAD) called me to schedule the first interview my first thought was, ‘Oh yeah … I remember applying for that!’ I was happy that I had progressed to the next round. Not ecstatic or overwhelmed or even excited. I knew this was just one very small step towards finding out how to recruit for values! I researched a bit more. Apparently, Australia ran expeditions to four different stations each year: subantarctic Macquarie Island and Casey, and Mawson and Davis stations on the continent. The leaders for the 58th Australian National Antarctic Research Expedition (ANARE) to Macquarie Island and Casey Station were chosen from applicants who had previously held the Station Leader position. Interestingly, the final assessment was simply a tick or a cross against each name — you were either suitable or you weren't. It was black or white. No ambiguity. They were looking for a very specific type of person; it was as simple as that.

I wondered about the form the phone interview would take. Recruiting for values, you really want to see how people operate under pressure. To my way of thinking a telephone interview would not be a good medium for determining this. So I based my preparation on the assumption that they would be looking to ‘get a feel’ for me. I made sure I could talk clearly and without hesitation about my life and career so far and waited for the phone to ring.

The telephone interview went without a hitch, and surprisingly I found that my background lent itself very well to the kinds of questions being asked. They probed into what I knew about safety, remote management and performance management, and I was able to respond with succinct answers backed up by real stories taken from my work at Parks Victoria.

Shortlisted!

I became slightly more interested when the news came that from the initial list of 140 applicants I had been shortlisted as one of 14 people moving on to the third stage of the process. To this point I had invested less than expected, but I knew that to go right through the recruitment process I would need to invest very heavily in both time and effort. I was at a crossroads. On the plus side, I hadn't yet learned what I wanted to find out — namely, how do you recruit for values such as integrity, respect and empathy? To pull out now would be kind of throwing away the effort and the goodwill of my referees. Also, the idea of Antarctica was beginning to grow on me. On the downside, I knew that the next few months were going to be chaotic. My Parks Victoria role was taking nearly all my energy, and now I had to carve out time off work and time at home to research, prepare and take part in the final selection round.

I reminded myself, ‘Regret what you did, not what you didn't do’, and pushed on with the application.

The AAD is very, very selective when choosing expedition leaders, for a number of excellent reasons. As the expedition's most senior representative of the Australian Commonwealth, the expedition leader is also deputised to act in special investigative and enforcement roles. The screening process would be broad and deep.

The screening process

Firstly, a complete and thorough medical test. I had some experience with medical tests. An important role of Parks Victoria is to provide the professional firefighting force under the auspices of the Department of Sustainability and Environment. At first I was amazed to discover we fought fires without hoses. Our approach was to starve the fire rather than beat it outright. A bushfire needs three things: fuel, heat and oxygen. Most fires that start in national parks are in remote areas that are not easy for fire-trucks to access. Our chief firefighting method was therefore to starve it of fuel by manually clearing the bush in front of the fire — by hand, with a rake-hoe! When I write it like this it sounds like a very silly way to fight a fire. It would be so much easier to stand back with a hose! But given this was almost always next to impossible we raked and hoed until we created a mineral earth break where the fire could not burn.

Most people have been in the bush and know how heavy and thick the undergrowth can get on the forest floor. Well, that is the stuff that professional firefighters work with. Standing in a line, we work for 12 hours straight, in blazing heat, whacking the earth with our hoes and dragging the debris aside to create a ‘break’ of 3 metres or so. We had to be fit and strong, and I kept my fitness levels high by running 10 kilometres three times a week. By this time I had 10 years of professional firefighting under my belt, including the terrible Alpine bushfires of 2003, and a pretty good fitness regime. I passed both the fitness and medical tests without raising a sweat.

The medical tests for Antarctic service are very standard. They don't screen for every illness ever known, but they do look out for health problems that might worsen in a short period of time. Given that there is just no way to evacuate someone from Antarctica during the depths of winter, it's prudent to select candidates in good general health. With good teeth. Good teeth are important — the station doctor has only two weeks’ training at the dental hospital to qualify as the station ‘dentist’ so it's really not the time or place to ponder root canal surgery.

Then it was time for the security check. I had gone through a security check once before. It was a simple affair: two or three pages of questions and a quick phone interview. I was very surprised to find that not only was this questionnaire much longer and more detailed, but they were also going to dig deep into my past. So deep, in fact, that I worried some minor transgression on my part, such as making a late payment on a car loan, would be uncovered and scuttle my chances.

I had to satisfy the Federal Government's requirements to ‘Highly Protected/Confidential’ level. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why the bar was set so high. I got on the telephone to the AAD, not to complain, but to understand what it was I might be doing that would require such a security clearance level. On reflection I should have realised that if there was indeed work that required ‘secret’ clearance they wouldn't tell me about it, but that didn't occur to me at the time.

The answer was actually very simple. In Antarctica the Station Leader is the police officer, prosecutor, defender, deputised coroner, judge and jury. Because of the absolute remoteness and isolation over winter, there is no way to get outside help. Day-to-day communication relies on a satellite phone line and basic email. If someone were to die or, God forbid, be murdered on the expedition, it is the responsibility of the Station Leader to investigate the nature and cause of death and determine what actions, if any, must be taken. The Station Leader therefore must demonstrate outstanding integrity, have a blameless record, and be prudent and above reproach.

I trawled through my bank records and employment history, noted every address I had ever lived at and submitted the application for clearance. The first inkling something could be amiss was when one of my referees sent me a text to say she'd had ‘an interesting conversation’ with the guy undertaking my security check. Obviously I couldn't let that one slide so I was on the phone in minutes.

After a breathless ‘What did he ask you?’ and lots of ‘Then what did you say?’ she told me he had asked about my hobbies, drug and alcohol use, and the types of people I hung out with. He'd queried why, after working for 16 years, I had no assets to show for my income, to which she had replied, ‘She travels overseas a lot and has a great quality of life. No, she has no assets, but she also has no debts.’

‘And she's single?’he asked.

‘Yes’, she replied.

‘Hmm …’ he said. ‘I think she sounds perfect for my son who lives in California.’

Seriously, you can't make this stuff up! That was my background and security check.

The psych test was the last selection hoop. And it was hilarious! Yes, I WOULD prefer a beautifully written poem to a well-crafted handgun! But in spite of myself I took it seriously. The Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI) was (and is) a respected personality test to assess mental health that has been extensively used by Western governments since the 1940s. I hadn't seen it before, but I had heard about it. I knew that ‘moulding’ your answers to what you thought the assessors wanted to hear would only identify you as a liar. By the time you get through the 567 questions, the system has generated a very clear picture of you and your personality.

One of the final questions of the MMPI test was, ‘Lately I feel like I am being tested <y/n>’. I had a chuckle to myself. I was nearing the end of two months of extensive assessment and tests — financial, health, fitness, background — and if I passed this round there was even more to come. Well … yes. I do feel like I am being tested! I fought the urge to write, ‘Wouldn't you?’

Transparency and honesty

Throughout all the tests and assessments I knew it was critically important to be 100 per cent honest with myself and my assessors. I didn't think I had any psychopathic tendencies, but if I did, I didn't want to find out when I was six months from the nearest professional help. Antarctica is the last place you want to be if you're not the right person for the job. I had to trust that the AAD knew what they were doing, and trust the process. If I didn't fit, great! If I did fit, even better.

I think this ambivalence towards the role worked in my favour. As I have said, I didn't grow up wanting to be an expeditioner. It wasn't a long-term career goal and I hadn't invested a large chunk of my life gearing myself up. It was an opportunity, a great opportunity. But if it wasn't for me, I wanted to know.

As the tests progressed I kept wondering, when will we get to the bit I'm interested in — recruiting for values? So far, I had expended two months of effort; endured multiple tests and probes; and spent countless hours running around collecting background material. When would we get to the part where we dig into the internal motivators, ethics and stuff like that? I didn't realise at the time, but through its rigorous background checking the AAD was already building quite a picture!