High Pockets

….That’s what we called him.  I don’t remember his name, but he probably doesn’t remember the name of the sarcastic electrician he had to put up with either.

He had two carpenters working under him.  They were brothers, who had built and owned a skating rink west of town.  I got along fine with the two brothers.  One of the brothers was notable by his stature and demeanor.  He was short and cheerful.

I guess I should have been a little nicer to High Pockets.  His boss had an odd practice –  he would dole out exactly so many nails to each man every morning.  I guess he thought it was wasteful to drop a nail on the ground and leave it.

Usually when I was wiring on a house, if I needed a nail or two, I would look around on the floor or ground and find plenty.  On this job I could never find a nail when I needed one; and the carpenters were not anxious to give me one.

High Pockets would complain if I visited too long with the two brothers.  I was wasting their time!

One day I came on the job to do some work.  I was only going to be a few minutes, so I grabbed the carpenters’ ladder rather than bring in my own from the pick-up.  High Pockets came over and chided me for using their ladder – I should bring my own!

I was done with what I was doing so I returned the ladder to him without saying anything.  The two brothers were apologetic as they weren’t using the ladder anyway.  It bothered me that 1). He didn’t want me using a ladder that wasn’t in use, and 2). If it was needed I wouldn’t feel backward about getting off of it, and 3). If I needed my ladder and someone was using it, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell them I needed my ladder.  I didn’t care if it was someone 12 feet tall and 350 pounds!

Later on I had to come back to the job again.  I walked up to the cheerful brother and said; “What does an electrician say to a carpenter when he first comes on a job?”

He said; “What?”

I said; “Take me to your ladder.”

Both of the brothers burst out laughing.  What I didn’t realize was that High Pockets was standing around the corner and heard all this.

He didn’t seem to like it and it didn’t improve relations between us at all.

A Helper Should Be A Helper

One of the fellows I worked with was an old timer.  He told me a story of when he began wiring in Minnesota before the electricians were unionized.  He was doing pole work.  He was using the general practice of having a helper on the ground.  He had fastened a pulley on the top of the pole and run a rope through it and down to the ground.  The helper was to put tools and parts into the bucket and use the rope to transport them up to the electrician on the pole.

It’s a good system if you pay attention to the rules.  Some electricians will joke about it.  They will hold their tool pouch open and tell the helper to toss what they need into the pouch.  That’s not very efficient.

Back to the story; the old timer was working on the pole when it broke and fell to the ground, with him underneath it.  The helper responded by jumping in the pick-up and taking off, leaving the electrician under the pole, half dead.

Eventually the electrician regained consciousness and crawled and struggled to the nearest house.  They called for an ambulance.  When he was able to get around, he looked for the helper and asked him; “Why did you run off?”

The helper answered; “I was afraid.”

(Do you appreciate today’s ease of communication via cell phones?)

Years later another electrician told me his “helper” experience.  He was also working on a pole but it was during a bitter Northern Montana winter.  He called down to his helper and the helper had disappeared.  Of course he had to come down the pole.  He found his helper in a heated building getting warm.  He wasn’t a very helpful helper.  There are similar circumstances involving ladders, but that’s another story.

One of my helpers, or more accurately, fellow workers was blind in one eye.  I one time called him “Dead Eye”; not stopping to think if he was sensitive about it or not.

Sometime later he was doing the wiring in a Safeway store remodel.  He called down to the shop for additional help on the job, so they sent me.

When I walked in the front door of the store, he was standing on a scaffold about center of the store.  He looked down and saw me.  He said; “Well I did ask for a little help.”

I found out then that he was one of the good guys.

Welding

A welder can work for any trade.  In fact it is a trade in itself.  In the union they refer to it as a tool of the trade.  That means a plumber, an electrician, a carpenter, or a sheet metal worker (Tin Knocker) could be a welder.  But not all in a specific trade can weld, including me.

For one thing you can ruin your eyesight from the welding flash if you don’t wear proper PPE (personal protective equipment).  There are electric welders, gas welders (acetylene), and other types.  Many times in my years as an electrician, people have assumed that all electricians are welders.  Not true.

One time I was called out to a job on a farm in the back country to wire a shop.  One of the requirements was to install a receptacle for an electric welder.  That was fine.  I could do the wiring – the farmer could do the welding.

When I finished the wiring portion of the job I put my tools and left over material in the truck.  I was in a hurry to get home because it was getting late.  The farmer asked me to show him how to use the welder.  I responded that I can wire for a welder but didn’t know how to weld.

Since it was an electric welder the farmer said; “You’re an electrician, you must know how to weld.”  Most farmers I know are expert welders, but at the time the REA (Rural Electric Association) had just come into the area.

The farmer said; “You must know something about it.”  So I told him I would give it a try.

He found two pieces of iron and set one on top of the other.  I had no idea what setting I should use but took a weld … er … wild guess, put on the mask, and … everything was totally black.

Did you ever try to run a stick along a crevice when you can’t see the crevice, or the stick for that matter?  More wild guesses.

Every time the welding rod would touch one of those pieces of metal it would flash and I could see momentarily.  Then the rod would stick and I would twist it off of the metal and try again.  Each effort I got a little closer to the spot I was trying to weld.

I finally caught on to the process of holding the rod close enough to the metal that it would arc, but not so close that it would stick.  The light from the arc would tell you where to go.  I finally “welded” a few spots on those pieces of iron, took off the mask, shut down the welder and told that farmer; “That’s how you weld.”  Then I went home.

I often wondered if he thought that all of that flashing and slashing I had done was part of the process.

I felt like I was the world’s greatest pretender.  (cue music)