I think about Dave and his crew more than I probably should.
We were doing a tie-in to connect seventy-year-old piping to brand new systems. Below grade work. Trench work. The kind where you can’t see what’s happening unless you’re standing right there, looking down into the hole. Dave’s pipefitters were good at their job, but they didn’t know the hazards of what they were daylighting.
My operators didn’t care much about this kind of work because it wasn’t technically their area – “it’s project work,” so it wasn’t their problem. That attitude – the lack of ownership, was one of those things I kept trying to fix but never quite could. So I became the project babysitter on behalf of operations. I’d be there, watching, making sure the work was getting done safely, making sure everyone knew what was happening in that trench.
Then I took a day off.
That morning, the gas detection went off while Dave’s guys were in the confined space. H2S & LEL. An explosive environment, and they were working with open flame. Everyone got out. We were lucky. Nobody got hurt.
Relying on luck is a loser strategy.
If there had been more visibility to the work – if the operators had real-time permits that everyone could see instead of a piece of paper in some trainee’s hand and another in the maintenance foreman’s pocket – I can’t help but think this could have been avoided. A digital permit. Something that puts the information where everyone needs it, when they need it.
This is why I care so much about enabling our field with technology. It’s not about making things flashy or modern for fun. It’s about making life easier and better on the front line. It’s about making sure everyone goes home to their families.
I still think about Dave and his pipefitters. I’m grateful I get to think about them, and not remember them.