Working in Hell

This Sunday, as part of the sermon, our pastor asked us to think about the worst job we ever had. He wanted us to look at that job and find something to be satisfied with. Something we learned. Some satisfaction at having done a job well or in helping someone. The job that came to my mind had none of those redeeming qualities. The job I thought about only lasted one night. It made me think of what it must be like to be in Hell.

I've mentioned before (here and here) that while in college, I worked summers in a union for workers who operate heavy construction equipment - the Operating Engineers. I was classified as an oiler. In this type of work, that's the person that works as an assistant to the operator of heavy machinery. The oiler's job is to keep the equipment running by doing preventative maintenance on it. That involves keeping the machine clean, greasing the machinery and adding oil (hence the name) on a regular schedule. The oiler can also hook up loads when necessary and make sure the space around the machine is free of hazards and is not endangering other workers. It is not a high skill job. It's almost like an apprenticeship for someone who wants to make a living operating heavy equipment. The oiler learns how to run the equipment well and in a safe manner by observing and learning from the operator. I was a member of the International Union of Operating Engineers Local 66 in Pittsburgh. I was not planning on making this my life's work but they always needed oilers during the summer when there were lots of jobs and the sons of union members were a good source of temporary workers. In the winter, when jobs were few, I would have never been able to get a job and would not have wanted to take a job away from someone who needed the work to support a family.

One of the problems with being an Operating Engineer was you never knew how long a job would last or where it would be. Most of the jobs I was called on went for a few months. That was just right for working summers between semesters. But sometimes you'd get called for a shorter job. One time I was called to work in a steel mill in the Southside district of Pittsburgh. There was no information about what was entailed in the job and I wasn't told how long the job would last but it sounded like I would just be filling in for the regular guy. I was just told when to show up and who to ask for. It was going to be the night shift. I was actually kind of happy about it. It was the closest job I'd had to home. Usually, the jobs were well over an hour's drive away. This job was only a half-hour away.

I showed up, found the office and showed my union card. They sent me inside the steel mill but when I met the operator I'd be working with, be took me below the mill. We would be working underneath the steel making area. The machine I'd be helping with was a Bobcat-like machine. Those are small, agile machines that often have a small loader or bucket on the front for excavation in small spaces. But in this case, the machine had an attachment that looked like a jack hammer on it. It was designed to get into tight spaces like the ovens and chimneys under the mill floor and chisel out the left-overs of the steel making process. Here is an explanation of how steel is made and that is where I got this picture. So, just imagine you're working below the space where all this 3000° Fahrenheit molten metal is being swung around, poured and spilled! Well, not much spilling went on because the steel workers are very good at what they do. But it does happen. So, here we were - working in a cramped, (the ceiling beams were just above my head), dusty, hot (you can imagine), dark (there were lights but many of them had burned out), noisy basement. Every once in a while, there would be a thunderous noise and everything shook when something dropped or was set down on the floor above us. There was never a warning when this would happen. Also, I noticed stalactite-looking things hanging down from the ceiling. I reached up to touch one and the operator yelled at me to stop before I could put a finger on it. "Those can be hot enough to burn off your finger and still look like they are cool," he said. He didn't have to tell me again.

To get the point across about how hot and dry it was, here was the first thing I had to deal with when we got to our machine. It wouldn't start. It didn't even want to crank. We looked at a number of possible problems but finally the operator said, "Oh, I know what it probably is," and went to the battery and unscrewed the caps where the water should be. It was completely dry!. The battery water had evaporated. I had to walk a long way to find some distilled water to pour into the battery. It started right up but apparently, this happened quite often.

Another disconcerting thing was that there were a LOT of small vehicles running around in this maze of corridors and none of them seemed to have horn nor did the drivers go slowly. You'd be working and all of a sudden this little machine would come tearing past you. I had to watch where I went and always keep looking around to make sure no one was going to run me over. It was the longest, weirdest, most uncomfortable night I had ever spent. When it was finally time to go home, the sun was just coming up and I couldn't wait to get into bed. The union called again the next day and wanted to send me back there because it looked like the regular guy was still out. For a real Operating Engineer, you wouldn't want to refuse a job because if you did that too often, you would find the job offers drying up. But in my situation, I had no problem refusing to go back to hell.To answer our pastor's question from Sunday - What I learned from my worst job was to not take a job in a steel mill.

"If you're going through hell, keep going."
Winston Churchill