Typical Day
There's no such thing as a typical day, other than that you get a lot of fresh air. Nights can get pretty interesting, too, when winter storms bring trees down and roads and utility cables need to be cleared while the heavy rain, sleet, or even snow is still coming down on you like bullets. Today though, Joe Stump, the arborist, is up at about 5:00AM to get a Michael Phelps-style breakfast to get him through the rigorous day ahead.
Now that he's forty-seven, he really prefers to stay on the ground, but still climbs occasionally to inspect structural problems high in some of the geriatric trees in the older neighborhoods. Not everything is visible from the ground. Climbing really isn't much of a problem, even with the few extra pounds that maturity and the nine-egg breakfast bring on. The concern is the ability to handle chainsaws safely and accurately. The focus (in good companies) always revolves around safety.
Forty-seven may not seem old, but Joe has been hard on himself. Because he's so tall and lean, he wasn't a groundsman for very long. He became a climber within his first few years. Since Joe knows from all of his experience how dangerous the work is, it's hard for him to watch the younger groundsmen and climbers enjoying their work too much. As far as Joe is concerned, they can never be too safe.
Even the dog is prepared.
Seeing the changes in the industry is no fun either. The influx of inexperienced and uneducated people swarming in to replace the aging, more professional arborists is making the industry even more dangerous than it already was. It seems that anyone who can't get a job doing something else gets into arboriculture.
All the disregard for this once-respected industry means the trees which arborists should be repairing are instead getting abused. It takes experience, respect, and a love of trees to really know how to care for them.
The first thing Joe needs to do is to stop by the yard to get the crews started. They were all informed of the jobs they were getting today before they left yesterday; so today, they get the details.
The pompous, arrogant, strong-willed, and just plain coarse guys who make up the crews are a big part of the reward for being an arborist. Joe wants to get them on their way quickly, but not too quickly. Rushing is dangerous. The crew cusses Joe's demands, but respect and admire him more than anyone who is not an arborist could understand. Remember the Klingons.
Joe can't check everything that needs to be checked before the crews go, but he leans on the guys to check the details for themselves. He reminds them, like he does every day, to leave the job sites cleaner than they were before work started. Joe is old school: As they pull away, he reminds them that they had better be safe or he will pummel them with a hickory stick when they return. Threats of violence and bodily harm are always an effective incentive for safety.
Joe then closes the yard before getting into his big Dodge truck to meet with potential clients and give estimates for the work that their trees need. He leaves behind his Klingon persona to become a more civil sort of representative that will not offend or even frighten humans.
Inspections and reports are mixed between appointments. This dance is a big part of arboriculture which few see. It's the unglamorous reward for a good career. In a way, Joe misses being out with the crews and putting on a show, and sometimes making the world a safer place for goats.