Here’s a warning to all the mothers/wives out there; concrete is an addictive, obsessive, all-consuming trade and once we start in it, we can’t escape it. Concrete occupies our minds at night, robbing us of sleep. It distracts us and consumes our thoughts while our spouses are talking to us, we will never avoid critiquing concrete work which we observe everywhere in our off hours, and it takes a toll on our bodies as we quietly carry our aches and pains to the grave. Did we order enough concrete? Will the concrete truck be on time? I really hope the concrete truck doesn’t bring a 8” slump… are all thoughts that are constantly going through our minds. Once concrete is coursing through our veins, we are willing to sacrifice a normal life for our trade.
Working in concrete, we take our lives in our hands daily; we can’t afford to ignore the dangers that surround us. Whether it’s a loose chute swinging by our head missing us by inches, having the winter concrete touch your skin leaving a bad rash, climbing scaffolding to work on a tall foundation, unclamping high-pressure pump hoses or banging our hoses to get a plug out, or getting cut by a trowel in the back pocket of the guy screeding the concrete, this trade has its inherent dangers which we must always be aware of. We’ll pay a much higher price than losing any eye or a few digits if we ever forget this.
Many years ago, Johnny Carson had a skit on his Tonight Show where he drank so much coffee, when they pricked him with a pin, coffee flowed out instead of blood. I’m pretty sure there will be more than one undertaker who’ll get the surprise of their life. For when they go to embalm an old concrete worker, instead of just draining their blood, they’ll discover there’s something gray in their veins.