Work experience at Rolls-Royce

_{If anyone's wondering, I chose this skin because of my recent Greenfly, which has attracted much more attention than I would've expected... in just a day it's rocketed up, past the long-featured Swordfish, to cement a spot as #3 in my gallery. And it's only 28 pieces as well!}

Anyway, after writing Friday's journal, I realised (with help from one particular Cave-Shinobi) that some of those uneventful events were genuinely worth writing about. It's incredibly long; don't say I didn't warn you _{teehee take that out of context}. Here it is:

Observations and comments from four days' work experience at Rolls-Royce

Let's start by saying that I was very fortunate to have this opportunity. I'm planning on studying engineering at a University level eventually; my Dad happens to have a tennis partner, who happens to not only work at Rolls-Royce, but in addition works in the infrastructure section of the Rolls-Royce company itself, allowing him access to virtually any sector at any time. He also happens to work flexible enough hours to adapt to the rather early working hours I was given.

So, through the influence of my Dad's friend, I was told that I'd be having work experience at the Aero Repair and Overhaul sector of Rolls-Royce. I should probably say here that Rolls-Royce does not just do cars; in fact, their focus has switched almost entirely to designing, producing and (in my case) repairing plane engines. Apparently there were people who turned up at interviews saying about how they loved cars, but were immediately kicked out for not having looked into what the company actually does.

My first day was spent with the Integrating department, whose name means just about as much to you as it did to me at the time. The man I was shadowing spent the first hour giving me a tour of the AR&O department, so I may as well figuratively take you along with me! The layout of the AR&O building is rather like an assembly line: the used plane engine, which may have come from anything from an Airbus to military aircraft, comes in at one end to be stripped down to its bare essentials (or at least, as much as it needed to be). The individual parts are then taken to be repaired, which involves cleaning, replacing, balancing, metal-spraying and the like. Finally, the engine is rebuilt, with the assistance of ceiling-high cranes and lifts, after which the engine is sent off to be tested.
Ah, but where does the Integrating Team come into play? They're the team who organises which parts are from which engine, and store them in the right places. They spend their days reading paperwork, sealing stuff in bags, labelling boxes... the most tasking manual labour they have to do is moving a relatively light bearing wheel from one shelf to another. Pretty boring work to be fair, but it offered a lot of time for asking questions. For example, I asked them if there were any times when there simply wasn't any work to be done; they then told me that, in the aftermath of 9/11, they'd spent months doing menial tasks like painting the floor and cleaning their work surfaces. Goes to show how world events can affect individual workers' jobs.

Day 2 found me in the Module Stripping department (I don't like using the word 'stripping' in this context... particularly when there isn't even a female in a twenty-metre radius). It was here that I confirmed something I already knew: I am definitely not cut out for manual labour. I was working with a man responsible for deconstructing the Module 03, which sounds much easier than it is. To put it simply, when I arrived there were metal shapes of various sizes scattered rather haphazardly on the floor - my initial reaction was that these were engine parts that had already been removed, but I later found out that they were all tools used just to take the engine apart (and you thought pushing a 2.axle out the other end with a stoppered 8.axle was hard work!). Screws in all directions, incredibly greasy bearing rings, slave bolts... on a number of occasions we had to use a pneumatic ram to separate two metal cylinders, which often involved a worrying amount of improvisation ("We're looking for a plate about this big, with six holes at-- oh look, this one'll do."). Twice he warned me to stay back, lest my fingers be cut off. _{He didn't say exactly those words... I doubt he even knew what the subjunctive case is.}

The penultimate day involved the Engine Building team. Despite me spending much of the time standing around and waiting for things to happen, I did enjoy the experience - obviously I wouldn't be given tasks any more important than screwing in bolts, but I did so with vigour. It occured to me then how easily I could potentially sabotage Rolls-Royce. As I knelt there twisting my arm repetitively, I could imagine one simple slip - perhaps I could throw this very spanner into the heart of the partially-built engine - costing Rolls-Royce millions if it went by undetected. You can be sure that I held onto the spanner significantly more tightly after that particular thought.
Anyway, it was quite fun watching people doing the industrial equivalent of building a Technic set. Through the use of intricate pulley systems mounted on the ceiling, the team lifted massive engine modules and pieced them together with millimetre precision. While they were busy screwing in the more fiddly bolts and such, I was shown software developed for the next engine that was to be produced. This program was designed to show 3D visualisation of an engine, complete with differently-coloured pipes and everything. It certainly did feel like home again, being in front of a computer screen. I returned as the Engine Building team pieced the final two modules together, and I could see and relate to the look of satisfaction on their faces. Or maybe the satisfaction was because they could go home, but I'm not sure.

The final day was chopped up into many small visits, all of which were worth it. You know how I said that, after the engine's been rebuilt, it goes off to be tested? That was where I went first: gargantuan concrete cubes from the outside, high-tech sensors on the inside. The test beds, as they're called, basically consist of a room of computer monitors (rather like Mission Control) next to a large enclosed space, perhaps the size of ten houses in volume. Unfortunately they weren't being used at the time, but I did see two engines suspended from the ceiling, ready to work at full operating conditions, each with a wire mesh over the front opening frosted with pigeon feathers. It was magical.
I then returned to the AR&O sector, this time working in the relatively calm Electricals area. They were in charge of repairing the various wiring systems and gauges, which (thankfully) involved much less noise and grease than before. I was taught to tie extremely tight knots using glass wire, which is incredibly strong and chemically inert (as a result, it costs $300 for a roll). I also stole about 20cm of this mystical invincible wire - don't worry, they would've thrown it away if I hadn't.
Over the course of the four days I'd talked to several different people and asked about their backgrounds, but today was the first when I met someone my own age. I was used to receiving responses like "I worked at the railway, like everyone else" or "I was down in the coalmines"; natural answers, given that most of these men grew up at the time when Britain was in the Industrial Revolution, and I appreciated my private-school education more than ever. However, there was a guy who was as old as I am, doing his first year of Apprenticeship here. He must've dropped out of school after doing his GCSEs. To be honest it felt a bit awkward when I responded, "No, I'm not thinking of doing an Apprenticeship - I'm actually planning on going to University first." "Ah, right. Which Uni are you looking at?" "Ah... you know, Cambridge... *stares at feet*". Don't get me wrong, I hold my own achievements and goals in high regard, but it feels weird comparing myself to others.
Finally I was taken for an exclusive tour around the Precision Casting Facility, which is where they produce the turbine blades that go into the engine itself. It was fascinating, believe me: they start with an externally-produced ceramic core which they then surround with a wax mould. They go through a small test phase involving pressure - I actually managed to nab a souvenir at this point, by fishing a damaged core-with-wax from a bin. These moulds are then attached by women (yes, women for the first time! Apparently their dexterity isn't matched by men in this building...) to a chandelier-like structure, which is mechanically dipped into a vat of a fancy cementy concoction, which is then heated so that the wax melts away. It is only after this point that any metal is involved. If you'll allow me to deviate slightly for a moment: when a plane engine is working at full capacity, with turbines spinning and fuel combusting, it's obviously very hot and very pressurised. So hot, in fact, that the temperature exceeds the metal's melting point, and so pressurised that the turbine blades are susceptible to deformation, known as creep, which results from the gaps between the metal crystals being exploited. Scientists have found a solution to the creep problem, which is by ensuring that each turbine blade consists of only one metal crystal - and that's exactly what they do in the Precision Casting Facility at Rolls-Royce. Via a narrow spiralling tube, the molten metal grows a large single crystal into the cemented mould. Once the mould is cracked, miniscule holes are drilled into the blade for air cooling, and ta-dah! One finished turbine blade, and one finished work experience.

I gained a lot from my work experience: seeing working conditions first-hand, learning about the intricacies of a plane engine, and generally getting a view of the physical half of engineering, despite my intentions being towards the technical side. I hope you enjoyed the read!