BuildWitt: A Not So Brief History (PART 3)

Spanish slang, grease stains are forever, and spiders?

Welcome back to my best, yet likely inaccurate, recollection of the history of BuildWitt!

The Project

I prayed they'd send me to the project in my neighborhood, and to my delight, they did.

As explained in PART 2, it was a drainage improvement project for the City of Phoenix set in the upper-class neighborhood of Arcadia. When I visited with Rich Pierson, a 385C excavator was laying 108" concrete pipe roughly 30' deep. Insane!

But by the time I arrived, the project was winding down. There was one run of large pipe (48") remaining and then the finishing touches. Our work area was within the northbound lanes of 44th street, the main artery into my dad's neighborhood, Paradise Valley.

We'd start at 5 AM, and traffic control pushed our worksite into the second lane around 8 AM. We prepped until we had the second lane, then it was time to SEND IT.

A Volvo 460 excavator was our primary weapon. A Komatsu loader, a smaller Volvo excavator, a skip loader, and a backhoe supported.

Trucks pulled alongside the 460 to collect the spoils. Once the trench was to grade, the machine lowered each pipe into the trench. After the pipe was home, we'd backfill to spring line with concrete, then the smaller excavator with a compaction wheel finished with dirt.

Week One

My tour with Rich Pierson was the only time I'd ever set foot on a construction project. I knew "fuck all," as the Australians say. Translation—nothing.

My "General Laborer" job was to serve everyone else. I'd remain on the surface and do as I was told. I'd lower tools into the trench, hold the grade rod, rig pipe, install gaskets, and soap the pipe.

It was a five-man crew—two pipelayers (Chico and Juan), two excavator operators, and a loader operator. Oh yeah… and me? So... 5.5 man crew.

My new foreman, Aric, gave me an overview, then left me to watch Chico and Juan for a day.

Once Chico kicked me out of the nest, I was terrified and proceeded to fuck everything up. I'd rig the pipe wrong, screw the shackle bolt in too tight, struggle with every rubber gasket, etc. I was a liability, not an asset.

It was also my first time working around live traffic. Standing next to cars racing past all day sucks. "They don't give a shit about us." But there's no way people are that careless?

WHACK! The sound of car mirrors slamming into our traffic control… All day. Sometimes, cars hit the traffic control so hard that mirrors popped off, and other cars would blow them into a million pieces. Frankly, I thought it was hilarious.

The Hang of Things

I may have been dumb, but I wasn't afraid to try hard.

I observed carefully and worked to make everyone's lives easier. Pipe laying is repetitive, so as I learned the process, I'd prepare ahead of time. My goal was to have whatever was needed before the crew asked.

After a few weeks, I still didn't know shit, but the crew appreciated my effort and treated me as part of the team.

My favorites were Chico and Juan, two Mexican guys who worked harder than anyone I'd ever seen. Juan must've been in his 40s and Chico in his 50s, but I still couldn't keep up. They worked furiously, without anyone or anything needed for motivation.

They showed me tricks, gave me a nickname (guerito—the nicest translation is "little white boy"), and taught me Mexican slang.

Chingadera, pendejo, guey, baboso. Google it.

Until then, I was part of a more "refined" society, which I've since learned is fake. Everyone acts friendly and says nice things.

But on the job site? We'd tell each other to fuck off all day. 90% of the time, it was a joke, and you meant it for the other 10%, but it was funny either way.

The days were harsh, and the work was hard. Anyone who says, "but it's a dry heat," has never worked in the Arizona summer. 115+ degrees is a different world. 100 and humid is miserable, but 115 is straight-up dangerous. It was so hot that my nose would bleed, and I found myself on the verge of heat stroke multiple times.

The swearing and jokes weren't immature (maybe a little); they were necessary. It was a way to laugh off the misery and bond.

I bonded with these guys more than any other group I'd ever belonged to. There's so much to gain from shared struggle. We didn't just work together; we depended on each other.

I'd go home every afternoon dead tired. I could barely move, but my sense of pride was through the roof. The purpose made the misery and exhaustion well worthwhile.

Public Perception

I lived two lives. The life of a novice construction worker and an 18-year-old kid fucking about before college.

There was no overlap. My crew could NEVER know where I lived, who my dad was, and how I got the job from the company owner. I desperately wanted to blend in and was already disadvantaged by my experience.

The only hint of my other life was my car, a 2015 Toyota Camry. Not fancy, but it was newer. I got shit for it, but I'd play it cool.

After work, I'd mess around with my friends. I was the only one with a full-time job, so I caught up with them after work or on the weekends.

They drove by the job site during the day, waving and yelling. I'd act like I didn't know who they were.

My friend's mom asked how I was spending my summer. Their follow-up questions carried a confused or concerned tone. Why would I work in construction? Wasn't it too hot? Are your parents ok with it?

I didn't explain. I understood it, and I never had to defend the decision to my parents (thank God). That's all that mattered.

Lessons Learned-Grease

Throughout the summer, I learned a few lessons I'll never forget.

I had to learn to grease the backhoe before I could operate it.

Aric showed me how to use the pump-action grease gun. I likely missed half the grease points. I must've spent an hour trying to change out the damn tube too. It was better to struggle than to ask.

After work, as I got out of my car, I noticed an ENORMOUS grease spot on my cloth seat. I immediately removed my vest and found the problem. How the hell did I get a glob of grease on my back? Pendejo...

I had a beach towel covering my seat from then on. Even though I sold the car, I guarantee it's still grease-stained. That shit never comes out.

Lessons Learned-Safety

I'd never considered safety until construction. After the crew showed me photos of gruesome accidents around the country, I didn't need further explanation of its importance, but that didn't mean I had the knowledge.

Occasionally, I'd climb into the trench to place or remove tools. The proper technique was via a ladder attached to the side of the trench box. But it was annoying and time-consuming. Instead, I'd walk down the backfilled slope, scurry across the top of the pipe, and drop the tools.

My genius shortcut worked until Aric caught me and chewed my ass. I didn't know being in a trench without shoring was bad. How the hell could that collapse? It looked good to me... But after that ass-chewing, I never cut another corner.

Lessons Learned-Running Equipment

The backhoe sat in the yard beside a dirt pile. One day, I mustered the courage to ask Aric to run it after work. He had thirty minutes of paperwork at the yard, so he said sure. I hopped on, wiggled the sticks, and did my best not to make a total disaster. Hell yeah!!

After, Aric occasionally asked me to drive the broom or backhoe to the work area, about a mile from the yard.

I felt so damn cool driving heavy machines through my friends' neighborhood. If only the girls from high school saw me… But it was 5 AM, so only old men walking little dogs got a look.

The occasional backhoe cruise was all I needed. I was hooked. Backhoes... The gateway drug to construction.

Lessons Learned-Assholes

The last lesson was an unfortunate yet valuable one.

Every day, we'd bust our asses to save the beautiful neighborhood of Arcadia from flooding. My crew had worked there for a year. They had plenty to worry about—existing utilities, rock, tight work areas, etc.

I expected a touch of gratitude. After all, I'd be stoked if my multi-million dollar house was safe from sudden flooding. We didn't need a cake and pinata, but a thank you wouldn't have hurt.

But no… While some people were friendly, many were assholes. They were demanding, rude, and looked down upon us construction workers. Little did they know I went to school with their kids. But to them, I was another worker increasing their morning commute to the coffee shop by FIVE MINUTES and making their BMWs slightly dusty too!

Now that I think of it… They were right. I'm a total scumbag...

I grew up around high society, which many view as "success." But after my first summer, I wanted nothing to do it anymore. I fell in love with the blue-collar world, and the pissed-off rich people we served only drove me further in my new life direction.

My Final Weeks

The ending of the job coincided with the start of college in August. The production work was done, but we had many loose ends to tie up. I swept driveways, stripped catch basins, and jackhammered concrete needing re-work.

But for the most memorable end of the summer task… Aric handed me a pickaxe handle and said, "you're going to need this." WTF?

He pulled out a flashlight as we proceeded to the final manhole of the project we had built only weeks later. The cover was off, and a ladder peeked above the surface.

Only when we climbed down did he explain. We had to walk and record the entire project to prove to the City of Phoenix that we completed everything as promised.

I stared down the pipe only to find pure blackness. Why the hell did I need the wooden stick?

We walked hunched over like two dwarves headed home. The further we walked, the bigger the pipe became, and we eventually walked upright.

But my comfort waned. Every hundred yards represented weeks. The more time passed, the more various creatures settled into their beautiful new concrete home.

There were no alligators, but there were rats, scorpions, and black widows. Armed with my stick, I kept the poisonous spiders at bay long enough to reach our objective, the tie-in point at the end of the job. I survived and emerged a hero.

The End

My summer with Pierson Construction Corporation ended with no fanfare or goodbyes. Within a flash, I shed my construction clothes to become an engineering student at Arizona State. The hardest part was cleaning up my language...

Even though I was back in the fold of school and my friends, I was changed, and I knew construction was for me. Now what?

That's a story for another newsletter…

Dirt Talk Podcast

I sat down with Kevin Tompkins of Tompkins Excavation, a family excavating business based in New York. We talk about his childhood, why he chose to work at the family business following school, and what the future holds. Listen at the link below!

Vlog

On this week’s vlog, we check out what it takes to clear historic snowfall from the communities of Mammoth, California. Frosty!

Eric, Chase, and I headed to Aspen, Colorado, to visit Snowpark Technologies as they built out the course for the 2023 Winter X Games.

I’ll see you next week!

Stay Dirty