Recently, someone commented that they don’t know what I do for a living. Let me take this opportunity to explain.
I am a technical writer, which means that I write user manuals. Specifically, I write the employee procedural handbook for the flensing station, where I work. It’s a difficult job, but there are perks — like free meat on the holidays, for example.
Vancouver, as you have probably heard, is home to Canada’s second largest flensing operation. Right here in Coal Harbour, Vancouver, they land the carcasses on the flensing deck for processing using the age-old techniques. Each day, workers bring in at least a hundred of the Arctic White Penguin and, during the winter months, about half as many of the larger Northern Harbour Penguins.
Given the penguin’s size, it yields a surprising amount of meat and blubber. An experienced flenser can harvest ninety percent of the penguin’s weight. Very little is wasted: blubber is used for food and oil products, the bones can be used for fertilizer and decorative items, the meat is sold to butchers, and the skin and offal is sold to McDonald’s.
I come from a long line of penguin flensers: my father was a flenser, as was my grandfather, my great grandfather, and my great great great grandfather. Sadly, my great great grandfather was born without legs and never felt comfortable wielding the flensing knife.
Now I too carry on the tradition in my own way. Because I had put in over a dozen years on the flensing deck with other companies, my current employer placed me in their technical writing department. My cubicle is located in an office right above the quay, where the air is heavy with the scent of penguin blubber. Sometimes, with a certain stab of regret, I find myself yearning to be down on the deck, flensing knife in hand. For all the toil and sweat, it was an honest day’s work.
I hope that answers any questions about my job. I should get back to work now — I have to write the chapter on beaks and flippers.