Welcome back to my likely inaccurate recollection of the history of BuildWitt!
In case you missed PART 9, I discussed the railroad, pile driving, and hot dumps.
After the four railroad bridges in California, I was project-less. The bosses recalled me to Phoenix, where I awaited my next assignment. I drove home for the last time with a smile on my face.
But my smile didn't last…
Returning home was a cruel emotional experience. I lived two lives—worker on the railroad, trying my best to blend in despite having no facial hair (EVERYONE had a HUGE mustache or beard) or college kid.
We've discussed the railroad, so let's dive into college kid stuff.
I'd drive home and hang out with my friends on my rare two days off. One friend, in particular, became more than my friend. You know the story...
At first, it was AWESOME. Smitten is an understatement—a young buck on top of the world. I had a tough-guy job, was making more money than I knew what to do with, and now had the girl. What couldn't I do?
If you answered, "keep the girl," you're correct! Believe it or not, a combination of working away from home and emotional immaturity was not a firm foundation upon which to build a relationship.
After a month, the awesome-ness turned into a dumpster fire as quickly as it started.
Get over it! Yeah… It seems silly now, and I wish I could've. I did, but not without my first serious bout of anxiety. The event didn't shake my new emotions loose—they came from a deeper place. Here's an excerpt from Robert Greene's "Laws of Human Nature" to explain:
"The ensuing breakup will be very painful for the man because he has invested energy from his earliest years and will feel this as abandonment from the mother figure.
He must learn to comfort and soothe himself, to withdraw from time to time, and be satisfied with his accomplishments. He needs to be able to care for himself. This will dramatically improve his relationships."
I just recently learned this. It's been a repeating pattern, and thanks to my greater understanding of WHY, I can cope with it much more effectively. But back then, I was helpless.
So, what did I do?
Like any rational human, I drove six hours north to visit Zion National Park for the first time. I ran away from the anxiety and drowned out my sorrow with the towering and awe-inspiring red walls of the Narrows.
It worked! But for only one day. I needed a more permanent numbing. Fortunately, that came in the form of more railroad work. Lucky me!
After Skanska got a taste of railroad work, they hunted for more.
The next job was a siding track on the same Union Pacific Sunset Route we'd worked on prior, but this time on a section in Arizona along I-8, between Gila Bend and Yuma.
Siding track is another track for a short distance beside the main tracks. Its primary purpose is to allow trains to pull off while more important trains pass.
Our scope of work was simple—mostly grading-related. We had to cut and grade the native dirt and backfill with aggregate base. Then, the rail crews could place their ties, ballast, and rail.
The simple scope meant a pared-down crew. To perform the work, we had a few local operators and laborers. Matt Day (to this day, one of the funniest people I've worked with) called the shots. And I was the on-site "management"?
The nearest town was Tacna, Arizona, only fifteen minutes away. But believe it or not, Tacna was no bustling metropolis. The entire place had the following—a Chevron gas station for travelers to and from SoCal, the Wagon Wheel Saloon, Jac's Whistle Stop Cafe (closed for the duration of our project), and Gonzo's Tacna Market. More on Gonzo's later…
Since there were no luxury accommodations in Tacna, I drove further west to Wellton, Arizona. Wellton was LOADED with amenities—yet another Chevron, a Microtel Inn & Suites (my home base), and the Desert Penguin Bar and Grill.
I'd load up on microwave dinners at the beginning of each work window. Then I drove my Toyota to the Phoenix yard, where I picked up a company truck. It was a shitbox Ram pickup, but I thought I was the coolest cat in town. My ego's never been so overly inflated since.
I debated leaving this part out, but it was a huge lesson learned. I'll try to be kind...
We belonged to the Rocky Mountain Division. It was a newer division, and we exclusively focused on civil construction. Our projects were going well from my (very limited) perspective.
But about halfway through my summer, just before I went to Tacna, everyone received an email from the higher-ups.
They were shutting us down.
The rumors and emotions spread through our projects and teams like wildfire. Frankly, leadership did a terrible job communicating clearly with everyone, leaving A LOT of room for interpretation.
Now a leader myself, I've learned whenever I leave blanks, someone inevitably fills them in, and not in the way I hope.
The situation was fascinating because I had no skin in the game as an intern. My future didn't hinge on an offer from Skanska, freeing me from the emotional response everyone else navigated.
I'd heard of the industry's harsh realities, but this was my first experience watching it unfold from courtside seats.
Running a business is challenging, and tough decisions are common. In my five short years as a business owner, I've made decisions that still hurt my stomach. But this was also an outstanding leadership, communication, and emotional lesson. I'll never forget it.
Back to the main program…
The pace of this project was more measured since we weren't constrained to nine-day work windows. It was siding, not mainline.
The work didn't need much oversight. I was only there because some "management" had to be, and everyone else had real work to do.
I kept busy the best I could, but there was only so much to do, leaving daily downtime.
Remember Gonzo's Tacna Market? Yep… Not only did Gonzo's become my way to weather the idle hours, but it kept me sane.
Gonzo's had little curb appeal. It was a small metal building with a dirt parking lot. Immediately upon entry, there was a display case filled with years-old cologne and perfume, complete with advertising images of sexy people in exotic places, a nice contrast to the least sexy place ever.
The "market" had all the essentials—Taki's, cigarettes, and beer. To the untrained eye, it was a rural convenience store. But to the adventurous, there was a treasure beyond the dusty shelves: a little old lady cooking in a poorly-equipped kitchen.
I always ordered the egg, potato, and chorizo breakfast burrito. To this day, I've never had better. I shit you not—I dreamt about them last week.
I'd strategically park on the hill overlooking the project and then would experience the only enjoyable part of my day. So much happiness for such a reasonable price. Money can't buy happiness? Wrong… It can buy Gonzo’s burritos. Or drugs. But I'd take those burritos over drugs any day..
You know how I said I'd try to be helpful? That wasn't always a good thing…
During the project's second phase, we had a paddle-wheel scraper cutting next to the existing tracks.
The operator called on the radio saying he found something. We showed up and saw a spool of black signal cable buried in our cut. The signal crew confirmed it was dead, meaning we could remove it. We did and got back to work.
An hour later, I got another call from the operator… He found more cable.
A strong desire to be useful + over-enthusiasm for operating equipment = bad news.
Instead of bothering the signal crew again, I thought I'd be a hero and take matters into my own hands. Using the backhoe, I wrestled the cable from the cut and told the scraper to keep it up. I saved the day!
Fifteen minutes later, I stood with the bosses visiting from Phoenix, waiting for my pat on the back. But then the signal crew came over the radio to say the signal for the entire track was mysteriously out.
I became physically ill… I knew what the problem was. The timing was no coincidence.
I sheepishly told the bosses that I potentially caused the issue. I met the signal crew in the cut and showed them the crime scene. After digging around and searching for the remnants, they found the problem. The cable I removed wasn't dead—it provided the signal for the entire stretch of mainline track.
While I watched the signal crew repair my mistake under the midday sun on a 120-degree day, fully-loaded freight trains crawled past at < 5MPH. They were typically at full speed but couldn't risk a potential derailment without the signal line. It was hours before they repaired it.
I prepared to pack my shit and head home. I was the biggest idiot in the world. I braced for impact as I returned to the bosses, but the lashing never came.
I'm still unsure why they didn't tell me to leave. It could be because they didn't want to do the additional paperwork, or maybe they could relate. Whatever it was, I was SO glad I still had a job. Skanska never offered me a full-time position, but I think it was because they shut the division down, not because I destroyed signal lines.
In the misery of the summer weather and railroad atmosphere, there were other bright spots beyond my daily burritos.
Matt drove up as I sat in my company truck, bird-dogging the work.
"Get in!"
I thought we were checking out the job, but we drove to the adjacent road. Turning onto the pavement, we hauled ass toward Tacna.
About halfway to town, Matt braked and sharply turned onto a dirt road following a canal. The desert might've been bone-dry, but farmers had canals snaking their way across the landscape to irrigate crops.
We stopped, and Matt leaped out of the truck. I followed, watching him reach for a plastic line ending in the water. As he pulled it in, the line shook vigorously.
On the end was a damn catfish!
He yelled at me to put the tailgate down. I did, still wondering what the hell was happening. He threw the fish, in the same amount of shock I was in, onto the tailgate.
"Hold on tight!"
He handed me the line. I pulled out my phone to record what the hell was happening. I grew up a city boy—there ain't many catfish in Scottsdale.
Moments later, Matt returned to the tailgate holding a hammer. After a swift blow, the fish was finally motionless.
I asked what the hell he was going to do with it. He looked at me like I was an idiot. It was dinner, of course… He offered me some, but I stuck to my microwave meal despite the generous offer.
After a seemingly never-ending summer, school was back.
Dare I say it… I was somewhat relieved to see the concrete jungle that is Arizona State.
With two years of school and three construction jobs under my belt, I had much-needed confidence. Maybe I'd get it this year? Wishful thinking…
But that's a story for another newsletter... Until then, stay dirty!
The BuildWitt relationship with Nic Parish (VP of Operations + Contracting for @burnsdirt out of Columbus, Mississippi) had quite the start. Nic emailed the podcast team and led with this:
“A few other business owners and I started a nonprofit geared towards recruiting in our industry a few years ago called FORGE. Please check us out at www.forgeyourpath.com. Starting this nonprofit led me to be appointed by the governor of Mississippi to a 5-person committee to redesign workforce development in Mississippi”.
I don’t want to say it was a flex, but it was certainly a good hook.
Nic was one of the first guests on the podcast in our new podcast studio (check out episode DT107), and we’re excited to have him back on the pod.
This week on Dirt Talk, Nic Parish and host @AaronWitt catch up on what’s been going on with Burns Dirt AND BuildWitt before digging into their respective roles in the shared mission to make the Dirt World a better place. They chat about why Nic feels he has a responsibility to help his competitors in certain areas, why approaching employee development requires genuine intentional care and not just a bonus here or there, and why Burns Dirt decided to add topographic art to their trucks and machines. (Editor’s note: They look cool as hell. Check it here: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cidt5s9MZ50/)
Thanks to Nic and the entire Burns Dirt team. If you want to learn more about them, follow @burnsdirt on IG or check out burnsdirt.com.
ConExpo 2023 with the BuildWitt clan was a huge success.
This year’s show was gasoline on the fire. Frankly, the equipment was exactly as I expected. Equipment may be the initial draw, but it’s not what keeps everyone around. People make the Dirt World special, and that’s what I loved most about the show.
I hung out with friends from around the world, made tons of new relationships with those who build, and watched our team in action selling a buffet of tools to help contractors tackle the people problem head-on.
Five days of machines, great people, and walking. If you missed this year, I have good news for you—only 1,068 days until the next one!
I’ll see you next week!