Welcome back to my highly inaccurate history of BuildWitt!
If you missed PART 12, I provided an overview of the Kiewit project I worked on. Now it's time for the dumb stories!
Kiewit is, well, Kiewit—they do EVERYTHING. Most contractors subcontract blasting due to liability and insurance requirements. Uncle Pete said bring it on.
Kenny was the licensed blaster on site, but loading a shot is extremely labor-intensive without the right tools (which we didn't have), so he recruited me, the clueless kid, to help with the grunt work.
Before I could handle explosives, I needed a handling license through the ATF (alcohol, tobacco, firearms… and explosives?).
So alongside my typical onboarding paperwork, like tax forms, I applied for a background check with the federal government to prove I wasn't a terrorist.
Fortunately, they didn't find my shady Armenian business dealings and sent me a paper clearing me. Yes, I could handle tens of thousands of pounds of explosives FOUR YEARS before legally renting a car. It makes perfect sense!
Honestly though… This is one of the most incredible things about construction and mining. While everyone else needs approval to buy a stapler, the Dirt World provides massive responsibility from day one.
I gave a brief overview of the blasting operation before, but the specifics are worth diving into.
After gathering the necessary blasting caps, boosters, and bags of ANFO, Kenny drove me to the shot for the first time, where around forty holes awaited us.
His speed was stuck on rabbit, so he hopped out of the truck, oriented himself, and started unloading the explosives.
Eager to be helpful, I started grabbing boxes of explosives and bags of ANFO. As you can imagine, I set each box or bag down as if it were an infant—as gently as possible. But as I did, Kenny tossed everything like a kid hurling rocks into a pond. He had places to be.
Sheer terror overcame me every time, with the bright orange "EXPLOSIVES" label reminding me of the contents of every box.
After three months of loading shots nearly daily, I still wasn't comfortable with his nonchalant approach, even if I did learn how stable the explosives we used were. We weren't in danger unless we used the boxes as platforms to shoot off fireworks.
Typically, blasting operations have a "powder truck," which fills the holes with ANFO from a hose. But not us. So step one was to carry and toss the hefty paper bags of the good stuff around our work area.
I'd organize everything while Kenny inserted the blasting caps into each booster and lowered them into the holes. Once every high-explosive charge was in place, he'd whip out a measuring tape with a rock taped to the end. I'd grab a bag of ANFO, tear it open, and pour the little white pellets into the hole until Kenny said it was enough. Around we went.
Then the real work began…
Again, typical blasting operations have a skid steer or small loader to help position the crushed stone called stemming near each hole. From there, it only takes a shovel to push it into the hole, filling each in seconds.
But us? That would be too easy! Kenny used the telehandler to position the stemming rock "close" to the holes, but it was always far away, ruling shoveling out. Instead, we used trusty five-gallon plastic buckets to scoop, haul, and dump the rock into the holes.
After sometimes HOURS of using a plastic bucket to carry rocks around, we'd have the shot loaded, tied in, and ready to BOOM.
At the moment, the work sucked, but this labor was the most valuable lesson of the summer. Every so often, I'd pause and look out amongst the quarry and surrounding hills—a PC 2000 working below us, rocks moving out on trucks, and beautiful scenery for miles. While some interns were stuck in an office, I had no idea how good I had it.
Like any big job site, we used radios to communicate. Nice radios are stupidly expensive, so Don only trusted me with one after many weeks of hard work.
Little things, like a nice branded vest or radio, went a long way with a young kid like me. The day I finally got my hands on a radio was a big deal—it was like a blue check mark for the project. I was legit.
Thanks to my pride in my new communication tool, I always clipped it to the front of my vest, right in the middle. I wanted to be sure everyone knew I had a radio, and, in a practical sense, I found it most comfortable.
One day, I filled loaded holes with stemming to prepare another shot with my trusty bucket. As I started on another drill hole, I lifted the bucket, hitting the bottom of the radio. It unclipped from my vest and, in perfect form, dropped into the 40' hole. Shit.
I panicked.
I put my head down near the hole and could hear the muffled voices talking below. I attempted to make visual contact with my phone flashlight, but my effort was futile. Playing it cool, I walked to the truck to find baling wire. Maybe I could fish it out?
After fifteen minutes of desperately trying to hook the radio with my makeshift fishing setup, it was time to admit defeat. I walked over to Kenny with my tail between my legs and told him what had happened. He surveyed the situation, told me it was hopeless, and returned to work. Shaking in my boots, I filled the hole with rock to the top and moved on.
As I returned to the job trailer, Don pulled up with a pissed-off look.
"Where's your radio?! We've been calling you?"
He drove off with a sly smile on his face.
From then on, my new nickname was "Radio."
Here's a relatable scenario—you're going through airport security. Everything's on the conveyor, and they motion you through the metal detector. BEEEP.
"Random screening. We need to swab your hands."
As the TSA agent does, you think, "have I handled explosives recently?" Then quickly respond to yourself, "of course not, you dummy!"
"You're good. Have a nice day." Phew.
Thanks to my job, I handled explosives almost daily. It was top of mind at first but then normalized toward the end of the summer.
One day, I had a flight to catch immediately after work. I handled explosives for the entire day before arriving at the airport. There was no time to shower or change, so I showed up in my boots and work clothes to catch my flight.
Right after going through airport security, sheer terror came over me. Holy shit… Did I go through airport security covered head to toe with explosive residue? Yep… How the hell would I have explained that? I swear, officer… I do professional blasting!
I immediately went to the bathroom to wash my hands. While other kids my age worried about who was having the next house party, I was nearly a domestic terrorist.
And with how many times I've written "explosives" in this email, I'm likely now on the counterterrorism watch list, if I'm not already.
My friend DJ didn't only have a cat-free place for me to crash, but he has a new toy called a DJI Phantom. It was my first time seeing a drone. From his house, the little white flying machine could photograph the entirety of Seattle. How could this powerful technology be so accessible to hooligans?
After I told him what I was working on, he suggested I take the drone for photos and videos of the work and blasting.
The following week, I showed up to work with a giant black briefcase. This newsletter only gets seemingly sketchier…
Immediately, the drone was a hit. The crew loved seeing the project from a different perspective, and we used the flying camera to document our progress for the higher-ups. Not a day went by where I wasn't flying it—I still have footage of every blast.
At the end of the summer, Jon even printed off a drone photo of the quarry and framed one for each crew member. I have mine in our office.
These photos were instrumental in getting my BuildWitt Instagram page off the ground one year later, and I HEAVILY relied on drones to start the business. But that's another newsletter.
Yes… My two passions in one paragraph—sea creatures and dirt.
Jason, the earthwork foreman, spent his weekends crab fishing during the summer season.
The Washington coast is famous for its Dungeness crab, an enormous crustacean that is extremely tasty. Maryland crab is a lot of work for a little reward, but one Dungeness crab is more than enough.
One week after convincing Jason to bring us a few, he walked into the job trailer smiling with a cooler. We knew what was about to go down.
We quickly covered our fancy plastic meeting table with newspaper, and he laid out the feast. I forget how many crabs there were, but it was far more than we could eat.
Since Kiewit had a no-knife policy (no comment), we all carried heavy-duty scissors. Exercising our ingenuity, we not so surgically went to work using our scissors to uncover the buried treasure.
This story isn't great, but it summarizes the Dirt World well. I came to the industry for the machines, but I've stayed for the machines AND people.
None of my friends in finance were feasting on fresh crab in their office with the help of scissors… Construction's lower class? Think again…
After briefly presenting to a few Kiewit executives at their Vancouver office, I was making the 20-hour drive back to the desert.
There wasn't a light at the end of the engineering school tunnel, but I was at least a senior. That's for my next newsletter.
Until then, stay dirty!
Aviv Leibovici is the co-founder and Chief Product Officer of @Buildots a construction tech company based in Tel Aviv with locations in the UK and US, as well. Buildots uses AI and powerful data systems to connect all of the aspects of construction projects, from the first day of design to the last day of construction, to bring accuracy to data analysis and keep everyone on the the same page through the construction process. Surprisingly, Aviv is relatively new to construction, but he knew through his research that there was a technology gap in the traditional construction process and understood that he and the other founders of Buildots could fill it.
This week on Dirt Talk, host @AaronWitt is joined by Aviv Leibovici, who joined the pod from London. They discussed Aviv’s entrance into the Dirt World, the similarities and differences between tech and construction companies, and the challenges of discussing tech with construction leaders who have had negative experiences with other new technologies.
In this video, we checked out some massive CAT trucks with Finning Cat up in the heart of Alberta, Canada, just north of Fort McMurray.
Our tour of their facilities and oil sands operations found us learning the ins and outs of operating, maintaining, and assembling some of the largest trucks in the world. From the impressive 798 AC and 797F models to the 797B rebuild. Hope you enjoy it!
#heavymachinery #heavyequipment #construction
I’ll see you next week!