Beat, As With A Shovel

When I was working for the now defunct Beloit Corporation, we had a job in a mill about four hours away. We were to drive up, check in to the hotel, and then meet in the lobby at noon for our safety meeting. Afterwards, we would head into the mill to unload toolboxes and parts for the next day's job. We were to be done at three. Didn't quite happen that way...

Got to the mill, and some bright guy decided that we would start sub-assembling parts to speed up the installation. We wheeled all of our toolboxes and gear to the side of the machine (which was still running), and got started. We finally left the mill at nine. I was never so glad to leave...

It was probably the longest day of my life, and it wasn't because of the work. Hell... I've had work days that lasted for thirty eight hours. No... it was because of how I started the day.

A buddy of mine had gotten a new job, and was going to be moving to Indiana, so we all got together and closed the bars up. Now, in Beloit, that was two o'clock... still plenty of time to get some sleep before the next day's travels. But instead of hitting the hay, I stayed up drinking with my brother and him. I went to bed at seven, got up at ten to eight, and was out the door in ten minutes. I don't remember much of the trip up there... I do know that I was damn lucky.

By the time I made it, I was aching. I hurt all over... and was looking forward to hitting the rack. When we got to the mill, and started working, my spirits sank. And the vomit nearly rose. I was worthless... I couldn't hardly blink without fighting the urge to hurl. Thank Gott I never did, but maybe I would have felt better... a weak stomached co-worker used to begin his day by puking as he walked into the mills. It's not that he wanted to, but it did make him feel better. Paper mills are foul smelling places that turn your guts. Add the heat, and...

I made a vow that I would never drink like that before, or during, a road job. Never. And, for the most part, I've kept that promise, though I did nearly the same thing this weekend. Good Gott a'mighty...

I knew that I had a job early Monday morning, and that it could possibly be a long day. But when you get the chance to hang out with friends, the importance of such concerns become trivial.

After a weekend for the books (which I'll post about later), and with minimal sleep on Sunday morning, I made a long drive, got home late, got up at five, and put in a day that was slightly over sixteen hours. Hey... I know that it's something we've all done (and if you haven't, you should do it at least once, if only to join the club), but I'm so not used to it. I was sleeping on my feet, at one point. And on our lunch... which was our only break... I spent the time between mill and restaurant snoring... LOUDLY. The cousin-in-law just kept laughing...

You'd think I would eventually learn my lessons, but some of them are worth ignoring. 'Specially when you get to hang with the crew that I was stuck with privileged to spend time with this weekend.

Posted by That 1 Guy at October 17, 2006 09:59 AM | TrackBack