Toughest job you ever did?

My older brother ran a refrigeration compressor company in Dallas, TX. I was 16 yrs. old and hired for the summer to do all the grunt work it seemed but mostly it was 8 hours a day of steam cleaning the smelly, dirty, oil and muck filled compressors with zero air conditioning on an outside patio area in the sunshine.. Pure hell and everyday my brother would drive home laughing at the grease ball that I was.
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I worked as a roofer for two weeks in August in Alabama. That was enough.

I worked for 10 years as a lineman. When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south.

But the hardest work I ever did was as a land surveyor. I was a rodman. Mainly what that meant was the instrument man set the line, you got out a bushaxe or a kaiser blade and cut line. It needed to be about 10' wide, and high enough that nothing blocked the view of the instrument. And there was no deviating from that line. We worked mountains, swamps, and some of the thickest overgrown kudzu thickets you can imagine. Chainsaws were an occasional luxury, when the bigger tree was close to the truck. But when you are 4 or 5 thousand feet from the truck, you took turns with the bushaxe. Snakes, alligators, yellow jackets, gumbo mud, mosquitos, deer flies, beaver dams, a few wild hogs and one brahma bull were all just part of the fun. If the line went through the water, you waded. If it went through creeks, you waded.
 
I was thinking about this as I'm getting older, not as physically dominant as I once was, but still holding on pretty well. Sometimes memories help keep me young.

I've had a few tough jobs, but for me it was probably working at a moving company. Constant work, garbage pay, it was a summer job for me before I went back to school.

One day we are doing a government office. 7th Floor, we get up there as one of the elevators is broken, the second one goes "On Service" for some lazy employees who are themselves moving their entire floor. So what do we do? What all underpaid idiots do, we go down 7 flights of stairs with massive desks cubicle walls, heavy duty metal cabinets and drawers. Then we have to walk back up seven flights and work the next load. Did that for 8 hours with a half hour lunch. It was in the summer and I was sweating like a pig.

People were bitching and crying, I'm Canadian so I'm use to hearing it, but I just did my thing. Whining solves nothing and just gives yourself an excuse to slack off. I liked the challenge anyways, I was young enough.

I recall withholding my school work on my resume knowing they wouldn't hire me, then one day, just not showing up. Phone is ringing every day, first threatening me with the voice message ("you will lose your job"), then begging me to show up for work one day ("hey give us a call, we have some good hours if you want them"). lol. They were just begging for any fool to stay the full day let alone work hard for 3 months. There were some real hard working guys there just paying their bills, but also a few arrogant pricks who liked to look down on others who were just doing their job.

So, that's my story. Any one else care to share?

I worked as a mover for 2 years. It was horrible. But it paid ok and I had a new baby.
I've been a lumper. Gets up to about 130 in a trailer in FL.
It pays decent. Some people tip you good too if you don't mess up their doorways/break their stuff.
I got bill tips lumping.
 
Toughest job was convincing other people to do the shit work. It took a bit of practice but not really all that much.

Fortunately I mastered it in sixth grade.

In fairness, though,it too several more years to figure out how to make the assholes pay me for the privilege of being allowed to do it. The key do doing that was the discovery that posting a Master's Degree requirement caused those holding only a liberal arts BA to be so willing to pay bribes to have their failing overlooked.

I don't worry about anyone here telling liberals about it....they wouldn't understand it anyway.
 
I worked as a roofer for two weeks in August in Alabama. That was enough.

I worked for 10 years as a lineman. When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south.

But the hardest work I ever did was as a land surveyor. I was a rodman. Mainly what that meant was the instrument man set the line, you got out a bushaxe or a kaiser blade and cut line. It needed to be about 10' wide, and high enough that nothing blocked the view of the instrument. And there was no deviating from that line. We worked mountains, swamps, and some of the thickest overgrown kudzu thickets you can imagine. Chainsaws were an occasional luxury, when the bigger tree was close to the truck. But when you are 4 or 5 thousand feet from the truck, you took turns with the bushaxe. Snakes, alligators, yellow jackets, gumbo mud, mosquitos, deer flies, beaver dams, a few wild hogs and one brahma bull were all just part of the fun. If the line went through the water, you waded. If it went through creeks, you waded.
You got it done. :dunno:
Any women on the job? :auiqs.jpg:
I wanna buy me a bushaxe. They're not at Lowe's and Home Depot. Bushaxe can clear stuff a lot faster than a brush cutter or machete. Some stuff..like cattails, you gotta use a brush cutter, so you're wading..and blazing a path through cattails..whee!

That was definitely not the worst. Roofing was worse than that, so was digging gas lines.
I kinda enjoy cutting stuff and getting things done.
 
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One more job. The summer between my sophmore & junior year of high school. My grandfather joked that I wouldn't last 1 day bailing hay (in Mississippi). I had been playing football and thought I was tough and strong. Only my pride kept me from quitting. Not those handy round bales. The square ones. You walked behind the bailer and grabbed them as they came out. Then threw them up on the wagon. The longer the day went, the higher you had to throw them. Sweating like a whore in church. But you didn't take your long sleeved shirt off or that hay would scratch the hide off of you.

Football practice was a breeze that fall. lol
 
I worked summers off from college at a steel mill near my hometown of Pittsburgh. They made stainless steel there.

One of the steps in making coils of steel is blasting scale and dross from them with steel shot, about the size of No. 7 bird shot. The shot would pile up beneath the blaster (called a Wheelabrator).

One of my jobs was to climb down under the Wheelabrator and shovel the shot back into a conveyor so it could be reused. Shoveling shot is not like shoveling sand! And the heat and noise of the place was deafening.

But that was 40 years ago when I was as strong as I have ever been.
 
When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south
Timberjack to the rescue.

Screenshot_2020-06-19-22-33-30(1).png
I'd winch this thing off the side of a mountain to keep from donning the gaffes.
 
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One more job. The summer between my sophmore & junior year of high school. My grandfather joked that I wouldn't last 1 day bailing hay (in Mississippi). I had been playing football and thought I was tough and strong. Only my pride kept me from quitting. Not those handy round bales. The square ones. You walked behind the bailer and grabbed them as they came out. Then threw them up on the wagon. The longer the day went, the higher you had to throw them. Sweating like a whore in church. But you didn't take your long sleeved shirt off or that hay would scratch the hide off of you.

Football practice was a breeze that fall. lol
Hayday really sucks here. Only done it twice, and that's enough.
Red ants sting the back of your fingers. You jog along behind the baler and stack the bales as they come out.
 
When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south
Timberjack to the rescue.

I'd winch this thing off the side of a mountain to keep from donning the gaffes.
Don't like the spikes, brah?
A good day for me is no spikes, No Bertha, and no boots if I can get away with it.
Also nobody gets hurt and no property gets damaged.
I had a good day yesterday.
 
I worked as a roofer for two weeks in August in Alabama. That was enough.

I worked for 10 years as a lineman. When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south.

But the hardest work I ever did was as a land surveyor. I was a rodman. Mainly what that meant was the instrument man set the line, you got out a bushaxe or a kaiser blade and cut line. It needed to be about 10' wide, and high enough that nothing blocked the view of the instrument. And there was no deviating from that line. We worked mountains, swamps, and some of the thickest overgrown kudzu thickets you can imagine. Chainsaws were an occasional luxury, when the bigger tree was close to the truck. But when you are 4 or 5 thousand feet from the truck, you took turns with the bushaxe. Snakes, alligators, yellow jackets, gumbo mud, mosquitos, deer flies, beaver dams, a few wild hogs and one brahma bull were all just part of the fun. If the line went through the water, you waded. If it went through creeks, you waded.
You got it done. :dunno:
Any women on the job? :auiqs.jpg:
I wanna buy me a bushaxe. They're not at Lowe's and Home Depot. Bushaxe can clear stuff a lot faster than a brush cutter or machete. Some stuff..like cattails, you gotta use a brush cutter, so you're wading..and blazing a path through cattails..whee!

That was definitely not the worst. Roofing was worse than that, so was digging gas lines.
I kinda enjoy cutting stuff and getting things done.
Wal-Mart has a Fiskars brush axe in the garden section.

 
I worked as a roofer for two weeks in August in Alabama. That was enough.

I worked for 10 years as a lineman. When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south.

But the hardest work I ever did was as a land surveyor. I was a rodman. Mainly what that meant was the instrument man set the line, you got out a bushaxe or a kaiser blade and cut line. It needed to be about 10' wide, and high enough that nothing blocked the view of the instrument. And there was no deviating from that line. We worked mountains, swamps, and some of the thickest overgrown kudzu thickets you can imagine. Chainsaws were an occasional luxury, when the bigger tree was close to the truck. But when you are 4 or 5 thousand feet from the truck, you took turns with the bushaxe. Snakes, alligators, yellow jackets, gumbo mud, mosquitos, deer flies, beaver dams, a few wild hogs and one brahma bull were all just part of the fun. If the line went through the water, you waded. If it went through creeks, you waded.
You got it done. :dunno:
Any women on the job? :auiqs.jpg:
I wanna buy me a bushaxe. They're not at Lowe's and Home Depot. Bushaxe can clear stuff a lot faster than a brush cutter or machete. Some stuff..like cattails, you gotta use a brush cutter, so you're wading..and blazing a path through cattails..whee!

That was definitely not the worst. Roofing was worse than that, so was digging gas lines.
I kinda enjoy cutting stuff and getting things done.
Wal-Mart has a Fiskars brush axe in the garden section.

Da fuq? Where's the handle? I gotta fabricate a handle? Wtf?!
Only 1 sharp side? That's fail.
That is not a proper bushaxe, no.
 
When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south
Timberjack to the rescue.

View attachment 352461
I'd winch this thing off the side of a mountain to keep from donning the gaffes.

That sounds great. But I would only be on each pole for 30 to 45 minutes. Then hit the next pole. Sometimes 12 or 14 poles through easement.
 
One more job. The summer between my sophmore & junior year of high school. My grandfather joked that I wouldn't last 1 day bailing hay (in Mississippi). I had been playing football and thought I was tough and strong. Only my pride kept me from quitting. Not those handy round bales. The square ones. You walked behind the bailer and grabbed them as they came out. Then threw them up on the wagon. The longer the day went, the higher you had to throw them. Sweating like a whore in church. But you didn't take your long sleeved shirt off or that hay would scratch the hide off of you.

Football practice was a breeze that fall. lol
Hayday really sucks here. Only done it twice, and that's enough.
Red ants sting the back of your fingers. You jog along behind the baler and stack the bales as they come out.

It was the hardest work I ever did. But I will say, it got me in the best shape of my life.
 
When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south
Timberjack to the rescue.

I'd winch this thing off the side of a mountain to keep from donning the gaffes.
Don't like the spikes, brah?
A good day for me is no spikes, No Bertha, and no boots if I can get away with it.
Also nobody gets hurt and no property gets damaged.
I had a good day yesterday.

My climbing days are over, that is for sure. Only fell once, and only about 2 or 3 feet. My left side gaffed out as I was coming down. My right leg was straight. When it caught I heard my knee pop. I was a subcontractor being paid by the foot for what we hung & lashed. I limped for a day or so, then kept going. Now that knee gives me all sorts of trouble.
 
One more job. The summer between my sophmore & junior year of high school. My grandfather joked that I wouldn't last 1 day bailing hay (in Mississippi). I had been playing football and thought I was tough and strong. Only my pride kept me from quitting. Not those handy round bales. The square ones. You walked behind the bailer and grabbed them as they came out. Then threw them up on the wagon. The longer the day went, the higher you had to throw them. Sweating like a whore in church. But you didn't take your long sleeved shirt off or that hay would scratch the hide off of you.

Football practice was a breeze that fall. lol
Hayday really sucks here. Only done it twice, and that's enough.
Red ants sting the back of your fingers. You jog along behind the baler and stack the bales as they come out.

It was the hardest work I ever did. But I will say, it got me in the best shape of my life.
I've done worse than that when Bush crashed the economy. Had to have a job, brah.
Eventually the real paying work came back.
How to describe it..

You build pallets of 90 concrete blocks all day. Other things too. I hurt my back there.
I hurt my back pushing up 9 blocks on a 70-lb steel plate. You gotta push them up and drop so they come loose.
270+70 is what? 340..lubly.
 
When the bucket truck could reach it was just hard work. But when you spend day after day, week after week, climbing utility poles on a set of hooks, hauling wire strand up, pulling the fiber in and pulling the lasher, it was brutal. Especially in the south
Timberjack to the rescue.

I'd winch this thing off the side of a mountain to keep from donning the gaffes.
Don't like the spikes, brah?
A good day for me is no spikes, No Bertha, and no boots if I can get away with it.
Also nobody gets hurt and no property gets damaged.
I had a good day yesterday.
Not so much. With those big 100 foot slick barked sycamores in the bottoms...me and my Timberjack would find a way.
 
Far away and not nearly long enough ago in an exotic land that might have been a tropical paradise I was sometimes tasked with an interesting but entirely unenjoyable mission. It seems that this exotic land was had no recognizable sewer system. This was problematic for thousands of men almost all of whom had either dysentery or plain diarrhea and no patience to hold the results throughout their 12 month tour. The Army in it's infinite wisdom had us construct a series of outhouses designed to be used by 6-8 close friends at a time. They could relax and share newspapers and magazines. The ambiance was rather...uh, robust and conversation was limited due the buzz of aprox. 8 mil. flies and other assorted flying (and stinging) insects. Also a common desire to not take deep breaths or breathe through the nose. If you forgot your reading matteral one could always study the mottoes thoughtfully carved into every simi-flat surface by former occupants. Seems that Kilroy gets around. What could "FTA" possibly mean? Normal outhouses are situated over deep holes to catch waste. Not so the Army version! In the Army version half of an (to begin with)empty 55-gal drum was situated under each "user". They were collected once a day by the lucky winners of some secret contest held by the 1st Sgt..On the bright side they were only emptied once a day. Unfortunately some could only hold a half days' contributions. Two men would carry each barrelhalf a considerable distance and burn the contents useing diesel fuel kerosene thermite (my favorite) or whatever combustible could be scavenged. Carrying those quite heavy drums full of highly noxious liquid safely to the designated area required a certain amount of expertise. If at all possible they carried side by side with the drum between them. If the terrain to be covered didn't allow that the man in the rear had the favored position (usually decided by coin toss). The team was traveling over uneven, possibly cluttered, ground as rapidly as possible in order to set it down again as quickly as possible. If you were carrying in line and if tragedy struck the drum would suddenly catch on an object or uneven ground resulting in a massive shit tsunami enveloping the lead man. It would probably have been a kindness to just shoot him but we were not allowed.
 
One more job. The summer between my sophmore & junior year of high school. My grandfather joked that I wouldn't last 1 day bailing hay (in Mississippi). I had been playing football and thought I was tough and strong. Only my pride kept me from quitting. Not those handy round bales. The square ones. You walked behind the bailer and grabbed them as they came out. Then threw them up on the wagon. The longer the day went, the higher you had to throw them. Sweating like a whore in church. But you didn't take your long sleeved shirt off or that hay would scratch the hide off of you.

Football practice was a breeze that fall. lol
Hayday really sucks here. Only done it twice, and that's enough.
Red ants sting the back of your fingers. You jog along behind the baler and stack the bales as they come out.
...snakes sticking out the sides of the bales...

At least we didn't have to run...the baler shot the bales onto a wagon towed behind. We'd hook them with hay hooks and stack them on the wagon.

Round bales are a Godsend.
 

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