State School, Engineering, and Earthmoving Ballet
Welcome back to my best, yet likely inaccurate, recollection of the history of BuildWitt!
In PART 3, I meander down memory lane to tell the story of my first construction job. Spanish slang, grease stains are forever, and spiders?
Next was my first semester of college, where we begin today's story...
Go State
Before the antics of my first semester, here's some necessary context.
My parents rarely told me what to do, and schooling was no exception. Going into high school, they handed me a blank slate. Instead of etching a beautiful story of how worthy I was of the American higher education system, I threw it on the ground and kicked it a few times.
Translation—my high school grades sucked. Transitioning from private to public school in 9th grade, I was overconfident and helpless. Someone was always there to catch me if my grades slipped while growing up. But Arizona public schools? No one cares (not a bad thing).
C's and D's marred my 9th-grade transcript. To my parent's credit, they didn't save the day, making it my mess to clean up.
My second and third years weren't much better. I stayed beyond a 70% average, but not by much.
Alas... I present to you the hero's journey, where I overcome the immense adversity of transitioning from a fancy private school to a normal one.
After my summers in Montana and years at the aquarium store, I cleaned up my act. Just in the nick of time? Not quite...
College admissions staff don't have time for redemption. They want numbers, and if you're outside their range (raises hand), you're out.
While other kids whispered of the fancy schools they'd applied to senior year, I didn't waste my time. Harvard was out (my one regret is not applying anyway to have a rejection letter as decor).
I had three options—Arizona State, University of Arizona, and Northern Arizona University. Living in Flagstaff was a hard pass. And then there were two.
I visited and applied to U of A, ASU, and their Honors Colleges. I was still disillusioned enough to believe I was worthy of the prestigious arms of our world-renowned (not for education, but for partying) state schools.
My high school guidance counselor told me I had no chance. Maybe that's why I did it... I take any bet against me personally.
The U of A admissions process was straightforward. Send your grades and test scores, and they'll maybe email you later.
But ASU had an added hoop—an essay! The prompt was, "write about a work of art that's inspired you."
Most kids must've taken it literally. Paintings, music, plays, etc. But me? I had no appreciation for art. I was eighteen years old. Who the hell finds art inspiring at eighteen?
I sat in my bedroom at my mom's house, brainstorming, staring at my enormous saltwater aquarium only feet away. Wait a minute...
Yes, I wrote the essay about my aquarium. My writing quality was questionable, but I'm damn sure it was the only essay detailing the art of tropical fish in a teenager's bedroom.
The University of Arizona told me to kick rocks. But Barrett, the Honors College at Arizona State, said come on down! Even better, they'd pay for my school! They likely mixed up my transcript with someone smart, but I had it in writing.
It was settled. Go state.
Construction Engineering
Why engineering?
Rich Pierson advised it, and I wanted to be like him. I had no other rationale.
When I say I didn't know anything about engineering or engineering school when I chose it, I'm not playing the humility card. I knew NOTHING. I could've explained more about heart surgery.
I'd never met an engineer in my life. Even worse, I was the only kid to fail the advanced placement exam for our high school calculus course. My teacher's disappointment was palpable.
When it came time to demonstrate my worthiness of engineering school with an online calculus exam, my roommate... Actually, I'll leave this part out.
They say ignorance is bliss. Sure, until engineering school jumps you in a dark alley.
Semester One
Arizona State was a wild place. 75,000 kids whose parents had controlled their every move for almost two decades, free to roam the streets and do as they pleased. The monkey exhibit at the zoo has more order.
That was life outside of the classroom... But don't let me fool you.
Engineering school was a swift kick in the nuts from day one. Calculus, linear algebra, chemistry, physics… I'd chosen a major focused on everything I sucked at.
I won't wade too deep into my freshman-year school work for my sanity and your time. It was an all-out bar fight… That's all.
To distract myself from the terror of my coursework, I dove headfirst into developing my new construction career. My classmates could kick my ass at anything degree-related, but I was ahead in the career development game with my THREE MONTHS of industry experience.
One evening after classes, I attended a construction career fair in the Memorial Union building. I cut through the thick scent of Panda Express and Subway to a room filled with tables covered in business cards, poorly designed banners, and people who built stuff.
The event was for juniors and seniors, but I talked them into letting me in. Who cares how old I was? I wanted a job.
Construction Job Two
To throw ASU a bone, they have a damn good construction program. The companies attending this career fair were top-notch local and national contractors.
I walked down the line, careful to only engage with heavy civil construction companies. I didn't need GCs or homebuilders. To me, working on buildings was as exciting as watching paint dry (no offense GCs and homebuilders... Well, some offense to GCs).
After shopping around, I met Chris Kmetty, who worked for one of Pierson Construction's competitors, Markham. I explained my EXTENSIVE experience, and he seemed interested.
Now, hold on a minute. I know what you're thinking... "Wow, classy move going to the competitor of the company who gave you your first break."
After the Arcadia project concluded, Pierson wound down thanks to Rich's impending retirement. He helped his people find new jobs, sold his equipment, and rode off into the sunset. I was officially a free agent.
I talked to Markham a few more times and decided to join them during the school year and, if I didn't suck, stay on over the summer.
My classes were only Monday through Thursday, so I spent Friday in the Markham office trying to keep busy.
Even though I did nothing but HR and safety paperwork, I loved being around a construction company's office. We had heavy equipment only a stone's throw away in the yard, and every conversation was about moving dirt, laying pipe, or paving asphalt. It felt right.
Tinaja Hills
Following my ninety cumulative minutes of equipment operation experience, I had an insatiable thirst for more heavy equipment.
While scoping out my degree path, I noticed a class called "Heavy Construction Equipment." I would take it in semester four, but I could at least meet the professor now.
I found his office and introduced myself. He mentioned an upcoming field trip involving a tour of Caterpillar's facility in Southern Arizona. He then made the mistake of saying I could potentially weasel my way onto the trip without being in the class.
I'm like a golden retriever. If someone picks up a tennis ball, I patiently wait until they throw it or put it away. I'll get the ball...
A month later, I drove south to Tinaja Hills, between Tucson and the Mexican border. I met up with the older kids in the class, and Caterpillar ferried us all to the demonstration area.
For 45 minutes, I watched the most incredible display of earthmoving and equipment I'd ever seen. Starting with the smallest machines in Cat's arsenal, like skid steers, the operators worked through Caterpillar's lineup, ending with one of their biggest mining machines, the 994 loader.
Think Broadway show for heavy equipment enthusiasts. If only they didn't already claim the title "Cats..." As the machines danced amongst the dirt, someone explained every movement and machine specification over the speakers, like a professional sports broadcast.
Not only did we watch the show, but we could walk around the earthmoving monsters after!
As a male, asking someone to take my picture is a painful endeavor, but I HAD to pose in front of the D11 and 994. A photo of me in the 994 bucket helped me launch my BuildWitt Instagram page years later, but that's at least 17 newsletters away…
Executive Meetings
As explained in PART 1, I learned the value of listening to smart people talk about life in high school by luck—the right place at the right time.
Once in college, I longed for more, so I began fabricating it myself.
I called my friend's dads and asked them to lunch. My voice trembled as I spoke to them, but at least I didn't have to explain who I was.
I'd offer to take them to a nice restaurant for lunch or meet them at their office. It was a win-win.
If we went to lunch, I'd get an hour of the best advice I could ask for AND free lunch. I always offered to pay, but no one allowed me to. It was awesome.
If we met at their office, I'd receive advice and a glimpse into their world and way of working and living—so much inspiration.
After exhausting my friend's dad's list, I had the confidence to run the same play I did with Rich Pierson and cold call other construction company owners. If I wanted to become a contractor, I needed all the help I could find.
Empire
The arguable king of the earthmoving industry in Arizona isn't a contractor but a dealer—Empire Caterpillar.
I'd first crossed paths with Empire during my sixth birthday party, and from then on, I was among the biggest Empire fans. Don't believe me? Here's an official legal document in my mother's handwriting stating, "when I grow up, I would like to be an employee at Empire Machinery.”
A local business owner brought up Jeff Whiteman, who's THE guy of Empire Cat. He was meeting with him later that day and invited me to sit in so I could introduce myself.
Shaking his hand was all I did, but that's all I needed.
Months later, I reached out to Jeff, citing the experience as my ounce of credibility. He agreed to meet!
Empire Cat's Mesa HQ is one of the coolest offices in the Dirt World. The front desk rests upon a beautiful Caterpillar engine block with scale earthmoving scenes and models flanking each side. Behind is a seating area with an enormous hammer, machine-themed stamped concrete, and a haul truck tire. Need I say more?
We sat in the main conference room, where an antique caterpillar tractor sat below a piece of glass on the floor. Despite the distraction, I vividly remember the conversation. Here's the most memorable part:
"Say a customer approaches us about buying a new backhoe. We could say yes and sell them a new one. Or, we could ask questions to learn what they really need. Maybe we could rent them one to serve their business better? We wouldn't make as much renting them a machine, but what's best for their business today is best for ours tomorrow."
As a college kid, I didn't have anywhere to put this advice into practice, but I've kept it top of mind as a business owner. If we deliver value to the Dirt World, BuildWitt will find its way.
Semester One Complete
In a flash, my first semester was complete. I deeply regretted my degree choice but persevered thanks to my hunger to learn more about the construction industry.
Winter break should've been a welcome break from the non-stop harassment of school, but it wasn't, thanks to back surgery?
That's a story for another newsletter… Until then, stay dirty!
Dirt Talk Podcast
I sat down with Carson Mediate to talk about working at Chick Fil A, how he started his Dirt World business in his 20s, and parking lot striping. Listen at the link below!
Vlog
Check out the lastest videos over on the vlog!
I’ll see you next week!
