I Wonder What Ever Happened to What’s His Name

You may have noticed that I do not use some given names of people I write about in these blogs.  In some cases it may be because I’ve forgotten the name.  In other cases, I don’t wish to precipitate a desire for anyone to take legal umbrage at my recollections.  It would be pretty difficult to say that more than one person with the same name had the same experience on the job when they were working with me.

You probably remember High Pockets; his story isn’t too far back.  I saw High Pockets one more time.  We were working on raising the roof of a malt shop.  At that time not every place had air-conditioning.  The roof was being raised to allow room for additional insulation and also for extra venting in the attic.  The flow of air would cool off the building below.

Wouldn’t you know it, High Pockets was running the job.  A ladder was set up in the center of the room so we could get in and out of the attic space.  I only had a little wiring to do and I believe that I got it all done in one trip.  When I entered the attic, there were High Pockets and his carpenters.

In an enclosed space, and with three carpenters and one electrician, each supplied with a hammer, the pounding was nearly non-stop.  I say “nearly” non-stop because every once in a while, for some reason or other, all of us would stop at the same time.  The cessation of pounding would cause the owner of the malt shop to walk across the floor, ascend the ladder, and try to ascertain why everyone had stopped working.

That would make High Pockets mad.  He was on his knees with his hammer in his hand like he was going to pop him one.  Each time that happened I worried about the continued life expectancy of the owner.  However, before the owner’s head showed up through the access hatch we would once again resume pounding.

I’m sure the carpenters pounded on a piece of wood just to make a sound, whether it was construction or not.  I know I did.  I thought of it as preserving the owner’s life.  I have no idea what happened to High Pockets.  I never saw him again.

One day my boss and I stopped in at the malt shop for a cup of coffee.  The proprietor/owner hurried over pointing to the tools in the bosses back pocket.  (The boss always carried a few tools in his back pocket.  He never used a tool pouch or a small tool kit.  That’s where I learned the habit, good or bad.)

The malt shop proprietor was concerned lest the tools cause damage to his seating.  The boss reached back and handed the tools to the proprietor handles first; “See, they won’t scratch anything.”

The proprietor said he had just recovered all the seats with leather.

To tell you the truth, I‘m sure some of the bosses tools had the sharp side up…..

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.