On her first night behind the wheel of a Zamboni in Tennessee, Heather
Wright was coined Heather the Zamboni Queen. Someone in the arena got wind
that she knew how to drive the big vehicle that scrapes and resurfaces the
ice. She was called to do the job for the Memphis Kings hockey team.
She remembers her first few minutes out on the ice. "I was petrified. It
definitely takes some getting used to. I did feel the pressures of being a
girl. All eyes were on me. That added some extra stress, but I've never
hit a wall. I'm probably one of the better drivers I've seen," she
says.
At one time, she heard she was only one of two female Zamboni drivers in
the U.S., but the field may have opened up somewhat, she says.
In Arkansas, Wright was hired to manage a community ice skating arena,
which is where she learned to drive the Zamboni. That was just one of her
many jobs as the ice skating rink operator. She never doubted that her career
path would not lead her far from the ice.
"I had experience. I was a competitive ice skater and grew up in the skating
rink. I knew I wanted to manage an ice rink," she says.
Both Tom Conroy and Terry Piche know how to drive the Zamboni, more generically
known as an ice resurfacing unit (IRU), says Piche. He notes that Zamboni
is just one of two manufacturers of the machine. The other is Olympia.
When you run a smaller facility or arena, you will probably be responsible
for the Zamboni, says Conroy. But that is only one of many jobs that fall
under your realm. You might also have to fix faulty refrigeration, repair
a chair and decide how many tickets to sell to fans for a sporting event.
He compares Zamboni driving to mowing the lawn. Lawn mowing is only one
of many chores you have to complete when running a household. The same is
true in the world of arenas.
Piche can't say that he misses being behind the wheel of an IRU after
driving one for 12 years. The job of ice resurfacing driver is glorified,
he says. It's hard work and while you are working, thousands of people
are watching you. When you make a mistake, you become a spectacle.
A common mistake, he says, is running out of gas. "And it's not like
you can pull over and gas up [like with a car]." The solution is to remember
to check the tank before you pull out.
But some time has passed since he has been behind the wheel. Because he
works in a larger arena, he oversees the people who take care of the many
different tasks.
Conroy is the director of facility and service at an arena. It seats 18,500
and hosts National Hockey League games. During peak season -- from September
through April -- Conroy logs about 90 hours per week.
As facilities manager for the parks department for his town, Piche is not
only responsible for a sporting complex with two ice surfaces, but also for
160 acres of grass, playgrounds, ball diamonds, tennis courts and soccer fields.
"I wish I had a romantic story to tell you why I got involved [in recreational
facility management], like it was a lifelong dream to drive a Zam, but the
job was available. I qualified and it was a solid position...with a complete
benefits package," he says.
When Piche began his career, he remembers it as being fun. But now the
fun is gone. The reason, he says, is lawsuits. Every time a person stumbles,
they sue the arena. Much more of this time is spent putting out fires, he
says, or what is known as damage control.
People will knock on your office door when trouble is brewing. Also, the
alarm systems for all his facilities are rigged to his home phone, so it is
not uncommon for him to be awoken at night.
Conroy agrees that the rules have changed. Operating an arena is more risky.
"The minute we open a door to a game or event, we say we open our doors to
liability." People today think they can get rich off a fall, he says.
He doesn't know whether he would recommend the career. "The reason
for that is growth potential is not rapid," he says. Although the rewards
are great -- seeing the finished product, such as a concert where everyone
has had a good time -- the hours are long, the pay is low and it takes a long
time to get to the level of facility manager.
Both men sort of fell into their career path of recreational management.
A full-time position opened up while they were working part time and they
grabbed it.
Glenn Menard is the assistant general manager of the New Orleans Arena.
He fell into his career path, too. His first job in the field was at an auto
racetrack during high school in the early 1960s. "The career path you usually
take [in facility management] is starting out as a part-time worker. Then
a good part-time worker will many times be given the opportunity for a full-time
position," he says.
From the auto track, he advanced to concerts, managed student union buildings
and even worked the Olympics and the World Cup. Menard likes being part of
events that are seen all over the world. You will hear the games broadcast
on CNN, for example. You know you are part of history, he says.
Recently, he got a kick out of keying his name into an Internet search
engine and coming up with a few hits.
Attending the events and overseeing their operation is the part Menard
really enjoys. This is where you can see the results of your hard work, he
says. The next day or even the next week, when you are walking to a coffee
shop or standing in line at the grocery store, you may hear people talking
about the concert or sporting event. You know you were responsible.
"There is an adrenaline thing, a satisfaction of putting a plan together
and implementing it. It is seamless to the customer. They show up, park, have
a great time and walk out. It's error-free. But behind the scenes, there
are tremendous issues and challenges," he explains.
His office walls capture all the special moments -- they are lined with
souvenirs. For example, he has the cover of the program for a fight between
Muhammad Ali and Larry Holmes. You are almost a part of history, he says.
"You can say to yourself, 'I was there. I remember that.'"