It was a Friday, and as I was topping off the pit for a monolithic elevator shaft, I thought to myself, I really don’t want today to come to an end. What began as one of the worst days I’ve ever had working in concrete, eventually became one of my greatest inspirations.
The day started off horribly. It was pouring rain outside while inside we fought tooth and nail to get the pump primed. The first load of concrete didn’t make it 25 feet through the 250 feet of hose we had clamped together. Our hoses were zigzagged like the board game “Candyland” throughout a packaging factory that was filled with equipment, all connected by a never ending obstacle-course of conveyors.
The pressure was mounting as the second trucked rolled up. After battling plugged hoses for the better part of an hour, and clogging in the reducer three times, I bit the bullet and sent back the first load of concrete. Not only wouldn’t the concrete pump through our reducer, when I kicked open the bottom of the hopper I discovered the concrete wouldn’t come out the hatch. The response from the ready-mix plant to the returned load was so poor and unprofessional that the contractor called a different producer for the rest of the concrete. After that, the day went great.
In spite of the challenges we initially had, I still loved what I was doing. Filled with emotion, I thought, “What if this was my last day to place concrete?” I had spent most of that morning feeling like it was my first day -- I second guessed myself the whole time as I tried to prime out the first load. I questioned what I was doing but then realized that it wasn’t me at all. It was simply a bad batch.
But that taught me to ask myself, how would our performance improve if we approached each day of working in concrete as if it were our first and last day? No detail would be overlooked, we’d always do our best, we’d appreciate what goes into making everything come together, and we’d hold onto the initial infatuation we had when started. We would hold onto the humility needed to learn and grow and would eagerly receive the feedback that’s essential to growth.
Work is a big part of most people’s lives, but for concrete people, it is our life. Concrete requires sacrifices beyond the physical toll. We miss our children’s ball games while our camping gear dry rots and our tackle boxes gather dust. And if we are “in it to win it,” we take on a lot of stress in the effort to form, place, and finish concrete.
If you’re only in this for the money or if the concrete industry isn’t a passionate obsession, it’s time to take a hike or get a better perspective. If you can see yourself doing anything else for a living, then maybe you should get out now. But if you are staying in this business, approach each day as if it were your first and last to work in the greatest industry ever—concrete.
