disruption.ca

Jay asked me to tell him my “dig a hole” story, and after writing it up, I decided that it could serve as blog filler. So here we go:

The year I was backpacking I spent some time living in Sydney, where I picked up casual work as a laborer on a construction site. About the third morning I’m working there, the boss comes up to me and tells me that I need to dig a hole, and he marks as spot on the ground with some spray paint. I find out how deep he wants it, and I ask him what I should do with all the dirt I dig up. He points to a bare spot nearby, and tells me to pile it there. I say, “Ok, no problem” and I spend a couple of hours digging a hole.

A little later that afternoon my boss comes up to me again and tells me to stop what I’m working on and come with him. We walk back over to my hole, which hasn’t changed since I dug it earlier, and stop. He says “I need you to get rid of that pile of dirt” and points to my pile. I mentally sigh, but say “Sure, no problem, where should I put this dirt?” He stops, thinks for a second, looks around us a little, and says “fill that hole.” Completely dead pan, and without any indication that he realized what he was asking.

It wasn’t even a make-work project to keep me busy. I was doing useful work until that point. Nothing had been done with the hole either. It was a completely wasted effort. I suppose it did have the benefit of amusing the eastern European contractors on the site who would mutter things about the “stupid don’t know anything boss” as they walked past me. I didn’t really mind doing the work though. I was getting paid by the hour for my efforts, which is better than I can say for some tech dirt moving that I have done for contracts in the past.