Overtime.

You ever hear that Bachman Turner Overdrive song, "Taking Care of Business, Working Overtime?" Well, Griffy and I have been working quite a respectable amount of overtime, and that was the most clever way to let you know that.

What have we been working on? Well, I'll tell you. First, let me introduce you to Donovan. Donovan is the son of one of the administrators and he has been working alongside us for the past week. He is a sophomore at South Plains College, majoring in music education. We three have been transporting and laying 8" PVC pipe down on the brine field to be used for the new mainline that should be finished sometime this weekend.

There are a few important statements in that last paragraph. First, 8" PVC pipe is friiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggin' huge. And heavy. These suckers are 20 ft. long and weigh about 60 lbs. each, and we've a country mile of them to haul and place. An aside: Yes, I did write one mile, as in 5,280 ft. To put it all together, thats 264 20 foot long, 8" in diameter PVC pipes that have to be laid in the...

Brine field. Now, I have described the brine field previously as "5 acres of desert," "a huge dried-up sponge," "a bunch of nothing," etc. Now, recall all of those fantastic descriptions and add 100+ heat and no wind. Then, add a crap ton of minerals (mainly salt), which dries out your lips and nose and skin and eyes and hair and...you get it. Its great.

I mentioned that we have to haul the pipe. 4-5 times a day, the three of us grab a busted ol' F-250 and trailer, forklift some pipes onto said trailer, and drive down a winding dirt road to the ditch that the pipes will eventually reside in. This drive is about 2 miles long, and you have to go super slow because of the rocks and potholes and such. We then cut the ropes binding the pipe together and lay them out to be glued. 

Now, I have never driven a trailer before. Neither had Donovan nor Griffin, and seeing as I was the oldest, I figured I'd show some leadership ("gimme some leadership, son!") and attempt to drive the trailer. The way down was mildly uneventful. A full-time maintenance guy named Gabriel rode shotgun to show us where to start laying the PVC, and provided a bit of technical support. We got to the spot, unloaded the pipe, and everything seemed to be going without a hitch. Then, as we got back into the truck to go pick up some more PVC, I realized that the trailer prohibited me from turning around, since the ditch for the pipe had taken up half the road. Which meant I had to back out. With a trailer. That I've never driven before. In my life. 

The next twenty minutes was spent with Gabriel watching me zig-zag the trailer back and forth, straightening out, etc. It was utterly Humiliating, with a capital H. The worst part? Gabriel just stood there. I would appeal to him for instructions, and he would say, "Just go backwards." Well, no shit. I was pretty furious, and I was also pretty sure that Gabriel hated me and thought I was an incompetent waste of space. 

Somehow, I got turned around and made it back to the plant to reload. We made the trip down, unloaded the goods, and were in the process of backing up when Gabriel comes running up and tells us that the turn-around spot is now blocked by the ditch. He points a few hundred yards down the road and says, "Just turn around there." Not even joking. So, I drive the few hundred yards, try to "just turn around," and bury that stupid truck deeper than you've ever seen. As Gabriel comes down to help, a massive smile on his lips, I'm about ready to walk home to Fayetteville. As he and Robert (our leadman) pull the truck out with a huge backhoe, all I can think about is how we could have avoid this whole situation, my humiliation included, if Gabriel had just turned the rig around for us. As we're driving away, I'm venting to Donovan and Griffy about "how huge of a dick is Gabriel," "God, he hates me so much," "why didn't he just turn this friggin' thing around" yada yada yada. I asked them if he said anything to them while I was hooking up the truck with Robert...

"He said we'll get it eventually. He also said that he can't do it for us, otherwise we won't learn how."

There are times when God speaks to you so quietly that you have no idea that He's even trying to tell you something. Other times, He grabs the Holy Pipe Wrench and smacks it so hard on your head that you can't possibly mistake the *clunck* for anything other than a lesson from your Father.

The power steering was going out on the F-250, so we tried to switch the trailer to a different truck. When a few maintenance guys saw the hitch making women out of us, they came over to help try and get it off. Turns out, in the process of getting the truck buried, I had "jack-knifed" the trailer, destroying it. If you have ever thought yourself publicly humiliated, don't amuse me. Try standing in the midst of seven men, and I mean MEN, and have them chuckle at your inability to pull a trailer at age 21. What did they say to me? 

"Well, you done gone and f***ed it up. No big deal, thats minor around here. But now you know what NOT to do!"

*clunck*