Rob Intveld gave me my first interview in the energy efficiency industry. He was the Engineering Manager at AESC's Pasadena office, and the question was what sort of things I'd look for during a lighting audit at a customer facility. My answer was so embarrassingly bad that I'm hopeful neither he nor Briana Rogers remembers what it was. Yet, despite my obvious ignorance, Rob wanted to give me a shot and I was hired. Antonio Corradini, my boss's boss and the Chief Engineer at the time, summed up my position succinctly with the observation, "You didn't know sh** when we hired you," which is unequivocally true.

Today, after fifteen-ish years in the industry, I don't do many lighting audits anymore. Rather now I'm in a position where I teach others how to be an energy engineer. Yet still, when asked what I do, I usually respond with "um..." followed by a prolonged silence until the person forgets that they asked me a question. Hence the title of this exposition. I'm finally answering the question.

Through the years I've done plenty of building surveys (never very well), built energy models (also not my strong point), done loads of data analysis, put together sales presentations, written a plethora of RFP responses, written a multitude of grant applications, and even gone cold calling on potential customers. It's been something like eating at a buffet without ever getting a clean plate, and after all that I'd venture to say that there are two categories, broadly speaking, that energy engineers can be lumped into - building operation generalists and funding specialists.

As an operational generalist the energy engineer is assigned the unenviable task of understanding a building's intended use, the building systems that serve that intended use, and where the discrepancy exists between these two realities. In a straightforward scenario, such as a elementary school classroom, this could be as simple as making sure lights and air conditioners aren't left on all night, or that low temperature limits aren't overridden by placing overhead projectors underneath the thermostat. It gets more complicated though, when you have a campus served by a central plant and all the buildings have unique terminal equipment, mismatched (or nonexistent) controls, end users with a serial history of complaints, HVAC techs and electricians that think you're an idiot (which you confirm by wearing slacks, dress shoes, and a white shirt to a field audit), and political pressure from top level administrators to keep everyone happy. Much more complicated in fact. The hapless energy engineer really has very little chance of success. Yet there is one arrow left in quiver, one opportunity remaining for redemption - funding.

So we come to the second leg upon which the energy engineer stands - navigating the administrative bureaucracy that doles out incentives and grants meant to dampen the eternal flame of the coal fired power plant. These funds come from multiple sources - state, federal, utility, and even private foundations. All of which have their own reporting requirements. Think of it as being a CPA responsible for filing state tax returns for a national business, then add in pre and post installation site inspections and you get the idea. Nobody wants to do that, including energy engineers. However, it is a powerful hook, the loss leader I believe it's called, to offer these services to a customer gratis. Who wouldn't be allured by the promise of new equipment paid for with non-repayable funds, all without the headache of having to file all that paperwork? Think of it as a no-obligation first date in the age of Tinder and Instagram filters.

Assuming the first date goes well, the dance begins. The customer digs drawings out of storage, facilitates site visits, reviews pricing and savings numbers, acknowledges the beautiful 3D models, gets contracts signed, endures construction, and in the end gets some shiny new equipment and perhaps a lower utility bill to boot. And throughout this all too familiar dance, from the first song until the doors close, the energy engineer is there, often times alone and awkward in the corner, sometimes even more awkwardly dancing with the customer, but there nonetheless.