Pruning Steel: Black Yard

Steel galvanization is the process coating steel with a layer of zinc to protect it from the elements essentially making the steel rustproof.  At the steel galvanizing plant where I work the steel is delivered into what is called the “black yard.” Out there lies the unfinished fabricated and welded steel in an ugly oily black or rusting state. From there is tied up to headers by steel wire which a gantry crane will pick up and dip into a series of chemical and acid baths in order to clean it before dipping it in a kettle of 200 degree Celsius molten zinc . Finally the header is dipped into a cooling bath of water and that’s where I come in. When I’m done with it I send it away, shiny and finished on a forklift to what is called the “white yard."

Another day.

Mostly Unedited since Thursday the 8th:

Everybody has had a job that they hate, that they consider turning their car around from in the morning, that they leave tired, achy and unhappy, that they lose sleep over, that they do in their sleep, that is risky, that is boring, that is a dead end, that will potentially give them cancer or kill them sooner, … Well, maybe most of those. This is the account of mine:

Rarely does calling somebody a “bitch” pay off especially if that somebody is your superior at work. Maybe it was the fatigue of a 40 hour work week by Thursday or maybe it was that fact that I couldn’t care less if I left the job forever so I called the head crane operator a bitch on his way out the door on Thursday afternoon.

He left with a chuckle. The Philippinos all turned and looked at me astonished. I punched my punch card and headed out the door and tried to walk as I imagined Cool Hand Luke would have done.

I shouldn’t say that it actually paid off. It just made this job slightly less intolerable. I am a fettler. For the last three weeks between the hours of 5 and 4 and 5 and noon on Saturdays, I am the tired bloke who cuts the freshly zinc-dipped steel off of the header, grinds off any irregularities, and stacks it for the forklift to take it to the pickup yard. If the job doesn’t sound exciting, that’s because it’s not. The only thing that keeps me going is Coca Cola, chewing gum and the mental math that I am doing while I am avoid getting hit by cranes, forklifts, shards of steel, molten zinc, or boiling water and steam. The job pays very well for doing something a well trained chimp could do. And considering my current economic state that I alluded to in my last post, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and pay my dues.

One day I came to work and noticed a glove had hung himself near steel recycling bin. Apparently he didn't like this job much either.

Paying my dues is what I did and it was how I treated my job. I rarely spoke at work. I put my earplugs put my head down and went about my business and counted the hours until the end of the day. When I spoke it was usually a question about the job or the standard acquainting conversation. 

The next morning as I went to get my earplugs and a fresh pair of gloves he greeted me with “How’s it going Pussy?” Trying to overlook my surprise, I replied, “Good, Pussy.” The rest of that day he made jokes about pussy this and pussy that. Without intention, I had completely nailed establishing a rapport. Seeking the lowest common denominator, we had leveled ourselves despite his years of service in this environment and my steadfast respect for experience engrained in my by years of baseball.  From that day on, little by little, I acted as if I was actually present instead of as far as I could possibly get inside my head.

Tomorrow I will get the second half of this post up and this week I will play some more catchup.