Women In Boots #2 Work smarter not harder 05102016

‘Women in Boots’ #2: Work Smarter Not Harder….

Warning: ”Some of my posts from here on in may disturb some viewers. Names of people

and places have been changed or omitted to protect their identity. There may be offensive

language. Mild language is acceptable and will be included in its entirety. There may be any

or all of the following:

Broad generalisations.

Statements deemed ‘not politically correct’.

Brutal facts, home truths some viewers may not want to hear.

All views expressed in my posts are mine only and are not a reflection on any company or

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The ‘data’ here (insert opinions) has been accumulated over 3 decades of personal on site

experience and every story, scenario or recollection is true, not a ‘fictitious story’ to add

value as has been suggested in the past. Truth is stranger than fiction.

If you the reader are not willing to accept the above please abandon your desire to carry on

reading. If you decide to carry on reading and are then offended, tuff sh#t you were warned

so do not come crying to me after the fact. Regular readers, this warning shall remain at the

start of all of my posts on this forum, just skip it and hook in to main piece.

PS I know it is the wrong ‘tuff’ that may happen too.

Cheers Hard Hat Mentor.”

WIB Series #2 has finally made an appearance. No excuses for my tardiness, happy to know

so many of you were keen to see it.

So we are still in the late 1980’s early 90’s in our tardis time line. (Links to previous posts will

be at the end for those of you who are already lost)

The laboratory work was hard, boring yet important in the scheme of things and fun. We

shall leave the lab with this image: Me holding up a bar of gold like an earring which had

been freshly poured, a bloody big one too and yes they are sooooo much heavier than one

would expect relative to their size. Good times.

I ended up being transferred to the CIP Plant: Carbon in Pulp. Due to an injury. No women

had ever worked on that plant up to that point. It was an old busted arse held together by

silicon and rags and very manually run type jobby. It still managed to crank out plenty of

gold. Though the recovery rate could have been way higher, shall get to that later. Will for

sure expand even further in the next post. Will freak you out, want to buy that old tailings

dam, shit loads of gold in it just quietly……

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It was expected that I would just ‘hang off a hose’ for a while till my wrists came good.

Almost like the ‘office’ light duties scenario. The term RSI was spoken of only in hushed

terms out of fear on both sides. I wore rigid braces for ages and could not even hold a pen

when my right one was at its worst. If you could have seen sample prep and the wet lab

back then it was a no brainer as to why this occurred. Any who no time off, no complaining,

pain killers, a quick visit to a quack – literally he was actually a vet we found out later!!

Naturally the 'HTFU princess or no job' perception was front of mind. (And a brutal fact I

suspect) It was hilarious as the ‘hose’ I was to hang off – to clean up the consistent ocean of

slurry from the overflowing tanks – so much that it had solidified – was so massive and

powerful that I had to rest it on my body somewhere like a python and lean in a particular

manner and use my forearms as my wrists could not hold it. I am only a little thing 5 foot 1

on a good day and at that time perhaps 7 stone ringing wet. Was pretty strong though, had

little muscles even and I was only about 20 – 22years old so full of ‘duracell bunny’ energy.

Plus there was no way I was going to let a bloody hose of all things beat me. What was I a

girl?

Fast forward a few months.. I am now part of the crew, a full blown process technician. A

good one too just quietly. All due to the fact that knowing that plant (her) inside out and

working there was the goal from day one. No way was I going back to the lab. My learning

was fast tracked as my shift partner (who later became my Step Dad!) was a legend who

spent hours with me shadowing him asking a million questions, tracing pipes and learning

what valves did what. No ‘manual’ to study, no ‘training’ at all, you get it or you don’t.

Trouble shooting was a norm as ‘she’ was run at full capacity with old screens that binded

often, among many, many other ‘not getting any upgrades anytime soon so do your best

with what we have’ scenarios, hence the silicon and rags. Too many tonnes being cranked

through for optimum recovery and cross shifts who didn’t give a shit, had no pride in their

work, were stoned 24/7 so let the densities turn to crap overnight, bla, bla, bla the usual

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suspects. Cracked me up on break in Kalgoorlie at a pub, met a few guys who assumed I was

a truckie or a cleaner. When I said I was a fixed plant operator they said,

‘Ha! So are we, cruisey number hey, hang out in the air

conditioned control room and hit a few buttons.’

I was gobsmacked, stunned into silence, a rarity for me,

especially since we were half cut.

To say the conversation was very lively and interesting

that day is an understatement. I learnt so much, mostly that I knew so little.

Apparently I was working on a dinosaur plant even for that era. If we needed to transfer

carbon, isolate a tank, well do any bloody thing, we had to physically go to the valves and

change them etc. To isolate the head leach tank I had to put on a harness, hang in the tank

with a shifter with my mate on the other side of the valve in the next tank…that was why I

had to know ‘her’ inside out just to run the place. Not just learn a big control panel. Some of

the valves where massive and very badly stuck as they were not used all the time and

the idiot wanker don’t care blokes never thought to put anti-seize on them when they got

the chance to make it easier next time. Never cared that you DO NOT have to close a valve

so bloody tight, ease it off a tad mate.

They shook their heads in disbelief when little ol’ me would say, ‘I got it, you finish your

durry (smoke)’ when one of those valves needed to be dealt with. It used to take one of

them each side just to get half a turn. Yet I would return swiftly, not puffing or sweating and

say, ‘she is good to go.’

This was due to a very smart female metallurgist we had on site for a while, who I also

shadowed and bugged with all my ‘why and how’ questions. She was so smart and a great

lady, I shall never forget her.

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When we discussed, meaning I bitched and moaned about the old plant, the useless crew,

the fact my crew worked 12 hours to get ‘her’ right just to come back to overflowing tanks

the next shift. She gave me some of the best advice I have ever had and use it in all areas of

my life to this day.

“Work smarter, not harder.”

That was it. From that day on I used every trick I had up my sleeve to work smarter. I

stashed long crow bars in strategic positions to use leverage to get the valves to do what I

required- move! I stashed anti-seize and used it at every opportunity. My crew were great,

had a work ethic, so we tried our best to actually do all the hourly checks for density etc.

and adjust accordingly, not sleep then falsify the records of checks and plead ignorance at

how the tanks got away from us over the shift. Many more strategies yet you get the idea. It

was a different world back then, life was pretty hard for the few women on site at times and

yes I felt I had much to prove being the only chick on the plant…ever. So I did not share my

tricks. My crew knew, our cross shift was the enemy. We tried to get them on board yet at

times we swore they set us up for failure so it was war. Silly buggers all of us.

So rockin’ the plant in my king-gee shorts and bonds tank top, working on the tan as it was

over 40 degrees most of the summer, I was livin’ the dream. It was hard yakka for sure. I

hardened up my hands with callouses, no gloves, no way, so I could snap those massive

hoses together in a nano second, a feat which made me feel like such a bloody girl in the

early days. I had muscles in my shit. Had to to do the work. Keep up with the boys. True.

Buns like rocks, so many stairs 12 hours a day for 6 weeks at a time. Funny, when a bloke my

size came to site who had not been an operator before, he struggled big time for a while too

till he got used to it and became strong. Take that any way you like. We all aged our joints,

backs and ears and everything you can imagine as one.

It did take grit and determination at times. I remember even when I was still in the lab,

having a shower after work and dancing from foot to foot as the pain was so great. Work

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boots have evolved some now. Who out there remembers how heavy they used to be and

how we put wet newspaper in them and let it dry just to soften them up a little? You could

always pick a new starter who didn’t bring their own boots as they limped for a few weeks

till all the blisters burst and settled in. Ah, those were the days….

It was worth it as over time it led the way for more chicks to come across to the plant, some

made it, some couldn’t deal with it. I am proud to say I ended up running my own shift and

teaching new blokes how to work smarter not harder. In fact when one of the young blokes

I had trained went to a more modern plant, he was the only one on site who could start her

up and shut her down and trouble shoot manually, when all the sexy systems failed, no one

else knew how! Most plants don’t literally start up and shut down too often if they can help

it, not totally. Our old baby, well a common occurrence. What an amazing training ground

for new operators I reckon.

The war between cross shifts carried on, tradition really, culture. All that vanished after

work though mostly, especially when any of those very same ‘enemies’ were knocked for a

six, as life tends to do at times. Remembering that we were 6 weeks on 1 off, so many of us

had dramas at home and even life changing events when we were just not there. So many

Christmases etc. spent with our other family that we all stuck together and looked out for

each other when it mattered. Man vs. Women did not apply, when life threw a curve ball at

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you and you were so very far from the ones you loved, you were then just ‘one of the boys’

and were rallied around and looked after.

Mostly just more alcohol and a tad of empathy, yet it meant so very much, when those who

you knew thought you didn’t belong in their world and made no secret of it, dropped all

their defences and tried as hard as they could in their own way to support you, it bought me

to tears at times. Not in front of them though, still had to HTFU princess. Such was my

perception.

To be working on the far side of the black stump is another reason I love FIFO so very much.

My favourites are the really remote sites where the only lights for ever are the plant and the

camp. The sunsets and sunrises are breathtaking. Not a cloud in the sky for months at a time

so the 360 uninterrupted view from the top deck of the plant (even on the ground as it is a

desert after all) would blow your mind.

I loved nightshift, apart from the fact it was

cooler, freezing at times even in summer, the

stars literally went from the horizon – from the

ground – to the horizon for 360 degrees!! Think

about that for a moment. Like a dome of such

brilliant clarity, shooting stars, so many wishes

made. I use to love watching the lightening far off

in the distance smacking into the ground and starting fires on nightshift too. No threat, just

salt bush out there.

Now I am chuckling away at my keyboard as I think of the movie ‘The Castle’ you know the

line, ‘How’s the serenity,’ as the lovely scene I just set for you of course also had a jaw

crusher and a ball mill doing their thing in the back ground of this amazing place, yet I didn’t

really ‘hear’ them at those times. (Unless the ball mill made one of ‘her’ sounds which told

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me something was wrong. That’s why we never wore ear plugs, we had to ‘hear her’ such

was the perception, silly buggers all of us.)

Better wrap up now. So much more to tell you. We will hang in this space for a while as that

was just the ‘mundane’ operating stuff. The unbelievable events that unfolded there will

freak you out. Truth is often stranger than fiction. As a tease I will tell you that I should have

been dead at least 3 times, and only on that particular site. Luck little chick this one. That’s

my angels for ya, on the job. Plane crashes, drug raids, dancing excavators, 24hr shifts with

matchsticks in our eyes to try to keep them open. Those were the days. Come back next

time and I shall tell you all about them.

Women in boots have achieved so much in today’s workplace. They are and have been:

“Working smarter, not harder”

for so very long now and putting those of us who had to do that literally from a physical

sense in the shade. I am so very proud of them all.

Another pearl of wisdom I took to heart came from my Dad a few years later who said,

‘’Bubs, you need to be paid for what you know, not for what you do’’

That set me on the path I find myself on today. Always knowing my body could not keep up

for ever in a man’s world. Not in the long run. We are not equal at all in that sense I reckon.

No matter how strong we may be, most of us have little tiny wrists, joints that are ‘girly’ and

to be frank perhaps more of an ambition to get out of the muck and slurry and hard yakka

yet still be part of the team, contributing a valuable link in the chain.

What an adventure being a woman in boots is! There are so many stories out there from

other women in boots who have perhaps trodden a different path yet no doubt have learnt

a great deal and left their own legacy in some way.

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This is just one and I thank you for reading it. If it can assist anyone in anyway or perhaps

just shed some light on a little slice of history in this game, then my ramblings may be worth

the time and effort.

Here are the links to the first two posts for those of you who are keen, they are important to

me as they may explain a little more of who this particular woman in boots is, the bigger

picture.

www.linkedin.com/pulse/women-boots-intro-post-drewie-dionne-drew-aka-hard-hat-

mentor?trk=pulse_spock-articles

www.linkedin.com/pulse/women-boots-1-tardis-time-drewie-dionne-drew-aka-hard-hat-

mentor?trk=mp-reader-card

FIFO = Forming Irreplaceable Friendships On-site

I would love to know your thoughts on this share.

See you again on #3. Not so long between drinks next time. Cross my heart.

Stay safe, keep smilin’

Only use your power for good.

Cheers Drewie and HHM

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