Showing posts with label rappel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rappel. Show all posts

Thursday, 25 October 2012

Familiarity Diminishes Fright Factor

Rusty Liberatore prepares to begin washing windows on a building high above Pittsburgh city streets.
Familiarity diminishes fright factor of ‘creepy’ jobs: Being suspended 200 feet above ground is enough to make many people tremble, but for Rusty Liberatore, the thrill is the reason he started his window washing business. The sight of blood and dead bodies can terrify some people, but it’s just a part of the job for Servpro estimator Tom Apel. And though death usually elicits emotions of dread, sadness and grief, it also presents funeral director Jim Atticks an opportunity to serve the community. Though Halloween is a time to celebrate frightful sights and creepie crawlies, people who regularly deal with scary situations have leaned to manage any fear they might experience.

Fear can take many forms and affect people in different ways, said Jill Fischer, a psychologist at Integrity Psychological Services in Monroeville. Though some people avoid what they fear, others make it their life’s work to try and conquer it, said Fischer, who specializes in stress management. When Liberatore is rapelling down a 20-story building on a tiny wooden platform, his emotions — like his feet — are dangling somewhere between terrified and elated. “I was always thrilled by heights,” he said. “There’s always a sense of fear.”

New employees with his business rappel from the roof of his business as a training exercise, but he said that doesn’t prepare them for a job in downtown Pittsburgh, when they’re swinging like a pendulum 18 stories up, “cooking” in the summer sun. “A lot of them,” he said, “just turn away and say, ‘I’m sorry. This isn’t for me.’” People often tell him that whatever he’s being paid, “it’s not enough.”

New members of the crew start off at about $12 per hour, but there are perks to the job, such as college girls blowing kisses through their dorm windows and clients plastering “thank you” notes to the window. Liberatore — whose Penn Hills-based Liberatore Inc. is a member of the Monroeville Area Chamber of Commerce — admits that while it is a thrill, parts of the job are scary. There’s the fear of being electrocuted by power lines or his harness giving out. He has heard stories of the worst, including a window washer who fell six stories to his death at UPMC McKeesport. Whether it’s six floors or 20 floors, “at that point it doesn’t really make a difference,” he said.

When there’s a messy death — accidental or intentional — someone has to clean up afterward. That’s when Servpro in Monroeville gets a call, and estimators such as Tom Apel, 50, zip up their biohazard suits and masks. “They’re all pretty gruesome, “Apel said of the places he is called to clean. “I really can’t say it excites anybody. That wasn’t why they started working here; (it) just goes along with what we do.” Suicides are the most graphic, but the worst are death scenes that go unnoticed for weeks, he said.

Usually it’s a downstairs neighbor who first notifies the authorities when blood begins to seep through the ceiling. “I don’t want to say they don’t bother me too much,” he said. “Until you actually get there and do it, you don’t know really how you’re going to act,” he said. He remembers the smell of his first job. His supervisor kept a close eye on him that day as he learned on the job. “Every step of the way, it was,‘Are you OK?’” Apel recalls. Friends and family often ask Apel for the gory details but then stop him mid-sentence, he said.
 
For those people, facing their fear might be a source of entertainment, but for many it can be a by-product of deep-rooted emotional stress, Fischer said.  “Sometimes, when people go through trauma, they’re compelled to repeat it to gain mastery over it,” she said. A single event during childhood can shape what a person fears or what drives them as an adult, she said. For example, a child who sees someone bleeding, surrounded by distressed onlookers, might develop a fear of blood, but a child who sees his father rescue someone who is bleeding might be motivated to become a paramedic, she said.

For Atticks, it was the first dead body he saw as a teenager that eventually led him to become funeral director at Gene H. Corl Funeral Chapel in Monroeville. He was 14 when he helped his father transport a body from a hospital to a funeral home in Harrisburg. “I can still picture the first man I picked up with him,” Atticks said. “It was a shock to me … it makes an impression on you. But it did not bother me.” The science and artistry of cosmetically restoring the body is what first attracted him to the profession as a teen, and throughout his career, he has prepared the bodies of family and friends for viewing. “I feel that’s the last thing I can do for them,” he said. “Why have a stranger doing that when their grandson or son is a part of it? Not everybody can.”

He said preparing the body is easy, but the tough part is consulting with grieving families. Some use humor as a way to deal; others treat the funeral as a celebration. Some, he said, plan the funeral in preparation of an imminent death, to save themselves from the additional stress when it happens. “I’ve had rough ones, and I’ve had some that felt like a party,” Atticks said. Of the last 100 funerals he has directed, he said each one was a little different.

Some fears are less rational, such as the fear of a doctor’s needle — which might explain why, according to the Central Blood Bank, only 5 percent of Americans donate blood each year. “It is a fairly common fear to be afraid of needles and things,” said Megan Schlegel, a conversational marketing expert with the Central Blood Bank. “Needles aren’t my favorite thing in the world, I just have to not look at it when they’re doing it.” Schlegel has learned to work with her dislike of needles.

Liberatore focuses on the thrill of being so high above ground instead of the fear of falling.
And Apel has become accustomed to dealing with gory locations. But his fear of spiders? Well, that’s another situation entirely.

Monday, 3 September 2012

The Sky Is The Limit


The Sky Is The Limit For High-Flying Window Washers: Columbus, Ohio - As the first rays of sunlight beam down on the windows of the city’s skyscrapers, crews get to work. The first order of business is to get out of the shop and get to the glass. “This is a big market out here; everything that has a window is a potential customer,” Columbus Window Cleaning Company President Lynn Elliott said. The company calls those on the front line “airmen,” because they are not happy until they anchor thousands of feet of half-inch nylon rope and take the leap of faith over the side of the building, 10TV’s Jeff Hogan reported. “That’s what it is,” said Director of Operations James Waddy. “There’s no turning back now. Once you’re over there, you’re over, bud.”


What is peaceful for the workers would paralyze others with fear. To minimize that fear, the window washers are trained in high-rise rescue to get themselves out of trouble. They spend hours in weekly and monthly safety classes. The attention to detail could be the difference between life and death, window cleaning specialist Chad Williams said. “Unless you have done it, don’t say that you can, because men get killed,” Williams said. Wind is one of the “airmen’s” biggest enemies. “If it’s too windy, there’s nothing you can do. You could be lined up here, and if it’s windy out there, it could blow you clear over there,” Waddy said. 

A turf-war exists between the window washers and falcons. “Out of nowhere, they’ll be dive-bombing,” Waddy said. Window washing is a job for those who like a vertical challenge – a mid-air ballet holding a bucket of water, Hogan reported. Window cleaning specialist Allen Wood said people are captivated by what they do. “I guess we blow their mind,” Wood said. “They don’t see too much of this too often. They see somebody hanging down, rappelling 600 feet on a rope. It’s kind of like a wow issue, you know.” Elliot said that she was happy with her life in the sky. “There is nothing better than this,” she said.

Saturday, 6 September 2008

Virgin Rappelling in Grand Rapids

Reporter Chris Knape, who covers development issues for The Press, has watched River House rise along the banks of the Grand River. Friday, he took his reporting to new heights when he accepted a challenge to rappel down from its 32nd floor. Window washers are my new heroes.
"We have window cleaners that do this every day. You're perfectly safe here." That was what Mark Reinhart Sr. from Award Window Cleaning Services said to help ease my nerves as I hung 385 feet over downtown Grand Rapids. In other words, man up. I'm supposed to be a word guy: Learn about something, string words together and tell a story. But words pretty much failed me as I rappelled down from near the top of River House at Bridgewater Place Friday morning.
I was among 30 members of the media and VIPs such as the Grand Rapids Police Department's Special Response Team who made the controlled descent down the nearly complete $80 million building.



FROM THIS MANS BLOG: I'm supposed to be a word guy: Learn about something, string words together and tell a story. But words pretty much failed me as I rappelled down from near the top of River House at Bridgewater Place Friday morning. I was among 30 members of the media and VIPs such as the Grand Rapids Police Department's Special Response Team who made the controlled descent down the nearly complete $80 million building. Friday's drops were a prelude to Saturday's main event - a fundraiser for Michigan Community Blood Centers. For $1,000 a drop, about 70 people have signed on to take the plunge. The event is coordinated by Over the Edge, a Canadian firm that does these kinds of signature events all over North America. Grand Rapids' own Higher Ground Climbing Center and Award Window Cleaning Services helped train and prepare us. Now that the cramping in my hands has subsided I've been trying to reflect and search my soul for any profundity that occurred while I was dangling off the tallest building in town. Here's what I came up with: Window cleaning is not the career for me. I'll spare you the four-letter interjections that made up the bulk of my thoughts while I was trying to look brave and have some sort of Jon Krakauer moment. There is no doubt it was thrilling, the chance of a lifetime. But, hell yes, I was scared. I woke up at about 4 a.m. with a quick heartbeat and rolled around in bed until about 6. My gut refused to listen to my brain's reminders there was nothing to worry about. Not long after arriving at the Bridgewater lobby I saw Rod Kackley, news director with WOOD radio. He wore a jubilant grin as he took off his harness following his descent. "It was incredibly cool," he said. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." Everything was going to be fine, I thought to myself. If he can do it.... I took the construction elevator up to the 30th floor, then walked up two more floors to the 32nd. This is one of the last areas in the tower where windows haven't been installed. The only thing preventing someone from strolling over the edge are some braided steel cables and their own sanity. Reinhart and his son, Mark Jr., strapped me in. Jonathan Graham, chief technical officer for Over the Edge, lead me past those steel cables. Graham was the first to rappel Friday morning, dressed as Griff, the Grand Rapids Griffins mascot. Down in the parking lot, across the street. I could see my wife, Amy, and sons Ben, 8, and Will, 6, who took time out of school to watch their old man try to be brave. My knees felt a bit wobbly as they slipped disposable blue booties on my shoes to avoid scratching the windows. A few last-minute safety checks and tips and the next step was simple: Lean back and stick my rear end out a bit. The two ropes, each of which I had been assured could hold more than 5,000 pounds, were all that was preventing an ugly, gravity-fueled date with Bridge Street. My first words as I dangled there, looking down at the ground and at the reflection of the city in the glass, were less than profound: "OK, this is really, really nerve wracking." As I swung and dangled, the life-affirming moment I thought I might enjoy on the way down never happened. I was thrilled, frightened and those booties kept slipping off the blue tinted windows still wet from the overnight rain. After descending three floors , I realized this was going to be tiring. My hands were gripping far too hard. Feeding the rope through the lever and pulley system was more difficult than expected. Was that clip on all the way? I had a serious wedgie. I turned around and waved to my kids. I could tell they were smiling. A construction worker poked her head out a balcony and said "Hi. Are you scared?" "A little bit," I answered. "It's a long way down." Press photographer Cory Olsen had put a mic on my shirt, but after that brief exchange and another with a worker who let me know I was on the 19th floor, I didn't do much talking. Ground approached about 8 minutes after I started. Gravity was my friend this day and so was the safety equipment. I was glad to be back on the ground, not as game as Kackley to get back in the harness and do it again. I let out a triumphant whoop and headed over to my wife and clearly impressed sons who were waiting outside the River House construction zone. Ben gave me a hug. The life-affirming moment happened on the ground.

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