The
construction economy was booming in Southern California in the 1980s, and there
were literally thousands of electricians working in the area from all over the
United States and for that matter…all over the world. There was such a shortage
of skilled manpower, some larger projects like the Budweiser Brewery in the San
Fernando Valley were distributing “Bud Points” based on attendance which could
be redeemed for prizes (like big-screen TVs). Other jobs were paying bonuses
for “ringers,” which meant folks got extra money simply for showing up five
days in a row in the course of a week. Several of the construction sites were
massive, and manning them with the appropriate number of trained craftsman was essential
to meeting scheduling milestones and critical completion deadlines.
Needless
to say, such a robust construction climate made it difficult for those of us
tasked with running run-of-the-mill electrical projects. Job opportunities were
a dime and dozen, and keeping quality men and women electricians tempted almost
daily by more overtime, better conditions, more interesting work or just a
shorter commute was a genuine challenge. Thankfully, I had vials of cocaine to
pass out on the job…so I was able to keep people around…and more importantly,
keep them working productively. Actually, that’s not even close to true…but it
is fun to test to see if anyone is still actually reading. So while I didn’t
have the benefit of mind-altering substances in our drug-free work environment,
I did have a worn out copy of Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and
Influence People” given to me by my IBEW dad and some awfully good
lessons passed down from journeymen and foremen when I was working as a cub.
The
job included several office buildings just west of Beverly Hills in Century
City on a street appropriately named “Avenue of the Stars.” It was only a few
miles from my boyhood home (and my former paper route in two top-end 28-story
condo high rises). This particular week, the crescendo of looming
construction deadlines made things especially stressful. To make matters worse,
I was facing several important electrical inspections and the call I’d put in for
extra manpower hadn’t been filled for days. There simply was too much work and
not enough people to do it.
One
morning amidst the growing pressure and chaos, I was particularly disgusted as
I arrived at the building only to notice that some derelict that wandered into
the lobby from the street. Later that morning as the crew was gathering around
the gang box before the weekly safety meeting, one of the wireman joked about
the lagging building security saying he’d seen the same homeless guy hanging
out in the lobby. Another guy cracked that the fellow was probably one of the
new electricians…but I wasn’t much in the mood for lame attempts at humor.
Sometime later, the elevator opened on one of the floors we were remodeling and
the shabbily dressed degenerate I’d spotted in the lobby walked off the
elevator car with the security guard and handed me a pink dispatch receipt
indicating he was one of the folks answering my call for additional help.
My instinct was to refuse the guy and send him back immediately, but I had waited four days to get somebody and I desperately needed a warm body to install down lights in the 10th floor lobby. Getting something less than impeccably trained journeymen electricians was somewhat unusual but not unheard of when work was booming…as most all-stars were already working steadily at the project of their choice. However this chap seemed particularly bad, and worse, his dress and general demeanor literally made him look (at least to me) as though he’d spent the last few evenings on a bus bench. Desperate for help I decided to give him a try, however it dawned on me almost immediately that he didn’t speak or understand any English. I tried a little German and Spanish on him (all I knew at the time…I know less now) but that didn’t work. It turned out the guy’s name was Victor and he was from Yugoslavia, but other than him smiling when I said “Tito,” we could not communicate at all.
To
say I was frustrated was an understatement, and after trying to work with him
for an hour or so and realizing I couldn’t even communicate with him, I decided
to essentially fire him on the spot (wasn’t sure how I’d explain it to him, but
was confident he’d get the picture). Exasperated, I pushed the button for the
elevator and when it arrived, I motioned for him to get on and planned to walk
him out the front door. On the way down the door opened on the 8th
floor and there was a guy that answered my last call (some Polish guy named
Jakub) on a ladder installing light fixtures in the elevator lobby. Despite the
language challenges Jakub was a good hand, and thankfully he could speak very
limited English and a little more German. I waved at him, the doors closed and
Victor and I continued our ride down. When the car stopped on the first floor I
was hit with an epiphany…and I held my hand across the door to prevent Victor
from walking off the elevator. I then pushed 8, and we rode back up to where
Jakub was diligently working. I introduced Victor to him, told him Victor was
from Yugoslavia, and asked him if he could communicate with someone from that
country. I’ll never forget his reply as he responded in broken English “maybe.”
Jakub
proceeded to say something to Victor (I think in Polish…but it just sounded
like a bunch of hard consonants and more like cussing than anything meaningful),
and immediately Victor’s face lit up. Touchdown! I paired the two communists up
immediately, and though they had limited electrical skills, they did some basic
tasks (like install light fixtures) as well as anybody…probably better than me.
Victor had actually worked as an electrician back home, and except for the
language barrier with me, he worked well with Jakub and the two were adequate
hands and better than average fixture installers on the 50-plus person crew. As
it turned out, they wired the lion’s share of the elevator lobby lights in that
entire high-rise building.
What’s
the point of all this…not sure really. It’s probably mostly about feeling the
obligation to provide content at 4am on a Friday morning when you’ve committed
yourself to some stupid blog, but it might also have something to do with not
judging a book by its cover. I suppose it could also demonstrate something
about exercising the patience to get the most of people, and to learn a bit
more about a person’s potential as an electrician…and as a person…before
rushing to any unwarranted judgment. As it turned out Victor was really a
pretty good guy, a decent electrician…and to be honest, he probably dressed
better than me (he actually would wear old black slacks, dark socks and worn
dress shoes to work…until I bought him a pair of work boots). Aside from the
fact that we couldn’t talk much, he turned out to be a pretty good hand, and as
tool buddies, Victor and Jakub were tough to beat by any measure. They ended up
staying on for the duration of the job, and ultimately getting transferred to
another project where they worked as a productive team for quite some time.
Anybody
can manage people when times are bad, but doing so in a good climate when
workers have options is a rare talent I still don’t possess. Such an
environment highlights the need to convey genuine appreciation, to motivate,
and the necessity to demonstrate patience when evaluating the best use of all
resources…including human.
Have
a wonderful weekend. Football is back, the days are getting shorter, the
conventions are over and the race is on.
I
bought a new Ukulele this week and have been working on this song. If you take
the time to listen…you’ll have a better day…guaranteed. But if you don’t like this…I
can’t help you.
Sorry for the typos and mispellings.
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