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Morning confessions, afternoon daydreams, and evening wind-downs. |
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This is dedicated to my daughter, Azalea Paige Kraynak. You're half the cause of some of these entries, but that's why I love you. There's rarely a day that you don't surprise me with the things you do and say. I've changed since the start of this, of course I think that's to be expected - I'm not an overworked pessimist anymore. I'm and adequately worked, for the most part happy idealist who holds the occasional cynical view of someone whose done seen some @$*#. That said, these are the new and improved ramblings of a guy who lives a life that I find to be occasionally comical. |
| Every workplace has got one. The one guy who always has a knife right when you need one. The guy who could shave a sleeping wolf without waking it up. Every single heavy industry place has that guy. Usually, he's one of the most reliable guys on the job, maybe not for attendance but he's still for the most part there every day. When it comes to problem solving though, or just solid know-how, there's almost no one more revered than the guy with the knife. They've just been around. Our guy with a knife just retired. 25 years. There was no one in my career that I could say had more of tenure among the workers than that guy. Rock solid guy he was. 20 years as a Boilermaker, then he went into the steel industry. He was a great welder, a solid crane operator, and he always had a knife. I appreciate the guy with a knife for a bunch of reasons. One of the biggest ones is his knife is never a ridiculous Crocodile Dundee 'That's a knife' kind of knife. It's a little thing, with hardly more than a few inches of blade. Some pocket knife they've had since forever ago, but its more than enough knife to a guy with skills. I appreciate that out of the knife guy, it's not pretentious, it's just right. Usually the knife guy has the most creative solutions to uncommon problems. Creative in their simplicity. Something that when you hear the idea, it sounds insane because it's just too simple for it to work. Time and time again, they prove simple is always ALWAYS better. He's the one guy on the crew who is little more than a grunt, but has so much experience and know-how that he's the de facto guy in charge despite what the managers and foremen think. Generally, unlike most managers and foremen, he also has a lot more tact in dealing with the guys he works with. A leader never given or never desiring the reins, but the most important part of it, is they are not bitter about not being in charge. They simply come to work, and just do, without stirring the pot and without stepping on toes. It's a shame there's not more knife guys. I'll say, if there's one pair of shoes that's the hardest to fill on a crew, it's the guy with a knife.   |
| I hate overtime. Really, I hate overtime. I hate thinking about overtime, but yet, when it's offered, I don't say no because I'm an idiot. I'm a 40 hours a week kind of guy, and my paycheck is just fine without all the extra stuff. That said, I'm also the lowest seniority guy on my crew so when no one else wants it, it's mine. Welp, no one else wants it. So here I am. Tired as hell after doing a 12 hour stretch yesterday on the welders. I'm gonna say this, 12 hours of welding probably sounds easy, maybe in the right shop it is, but what we do, 12 hours is like 12 rounds with Tyson in the early 90s. I feel like I went to the gym and did arm day, leg day, back day, and cardio all on the one day. Granted I'm not a spring chicken anymore. I'm a summer chicken now, so 12 and 16 hour shifts hit a little harder than they used to. I'm gonna keep complaining about welding for a minute. I have 2 pairs of welding gloves, and both of have holes in them in perfect spots. One is in the left hand thumb. The other is in the left hand index finger. I'm a righty so that probably sounds good. It isn't. It seems like every last bit of dross happens to find those holes, so my left hand is always burnt up. And now we arrive at the present state of things this morning. A tired guy with a burnt up left hand, who's sore all over, and having to give myself a pep talk just to get off the couch and get ready for work this morning to do another 12 or 16. I'm not one for complaining, but, dude, I really hate overtime. My wife really hates overtime. My kids hate overtime. Not because I'm not home, I am after all making a good bit of extra money from it, it's because I become a diva. I come home with every stick up the butt you could imagine the likes of which that not even a Snicker's bar can fix. Now this minute or so of self-pity has got me thinking. Not so long ago, I was in the nuclear field, traveling the world and doing 84 hour (or more) weeks in some middle of nowhere place in a foreign country. Hated it then too, but there was a time when I loved all the hours. That I would say was in my 20s when I had a better back and better knees. Now I just want an 8 hour day and a beer while my daughter uses me as a jungle gym. Seriously, 1 year olds really enjoy climbing on people, I don't know why. All of this has really got me thinking though. At a steel mill or really anywhere where there's a team of guys working on things, construction sites, fabrication shops, custom garages, forges, foundries, they have a different kind of society than you'd see anywhere else. Certain classes of workers that simply aren't in the other places, other than the one who lived at work - everywhere has that person. I think over the next few blog posts, I'm going to explore the caste system in heavy industry and talk about some of the guys that really deserve a shout out. The unseen heroes of making the world go 'round. |
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Thanks! Life is good, frustrating, but funny. I try to find humor in my day to day world and I'm glad you enjoyed it.