It's not the color of your collar.

Your occupation on the color wheel of safety.

All work is hard

Given the response to my last post, the bulk of folks don’t have experience with what I would call grunt work. There are a couple of you out there who were clearly once members of the “shit rolls downhill” industry and perhaps escaped unmolested, with all your digits and dignity in tact.

But to those unschooled in the finer points of rough work, I have some visual aids to assist you as far as identifying your grade of “work” in the larger work world.

I have the second portion of my Drywall Supply post more or less in the bag (not that anyone was actually asking) but I think this works as a good kind of intermission to outline the qualia of these jobs I often describe so unflatteringly.

Please note; this is not a “real work” vs. “bullshit work” kinda thing. There is by far enough of that kinda thing out there. Having had some 50 odd “jobs” over the years, every thing you do for money can suck. But being miserable can and often does build the greatest bonds between people. There is a whole other screed about how being a “good boss” is a disservice to your employees, but maybe later.

Anywho, what type of sucking are we talking about here? Lets begin with safety signs, a good first indicator of what kind of work you are about to do and where that falls on our spectrum of grunt.

You are fine, just like tuck your shirt in, smoke only at the smoker’s hut, and wash your hands. The fire extinguisher is over there if you set something on fire. The fire exit is clearly marked if that doesn’t work, just pull the alarm next to it when you go… leave the laptop, grab the cannoli.

Regular jobby-job type job

If you work in an office, retail, or a government building chances are you see these kind of warnings. Basically the kind of “do’s and don’ts” that you see in places where they prefer not to / can not supervise workers. Sure there will be bosses around, but generally those bosses are hiding from actual work just like you. You may have a time clock to punch or terminal to log into. The You-Scan of employment, act accordingly.

They say most safety regulations are written in blood (i.e. someone got wrecked). In this case notices like this are just evidence that you may have down time for grabass, or that they don’t pay you close attention or a high enough wage for what you actually do there.

If you ignore these notices, you are likely to be told by a properly trained / jealous co-worker that what you are doing is not allowed. If you pay no mind to that mid-mid level management, something passive aggressive will happen like a memo or they will attach another sign to the existing sign, probably with additional underlining and exclamation points. Quotation marks are occasionally applied incorrectly in these scenarios, but no stones can be thrown by me here, I mean just look at this blog.

RATING: Your job is fine and no one, least of all you, really care.

You see more dudes than ladies, and everyone is wearing some kind of vest or helmets. One assumes there is fuckery afoot, stay frosty or become a breakroom punchline.

The Church of Labor Day Saints

Chances are if you see these cool dudes stuck onto things around your workplace you have arrived firmly into a “blue collar” job. Granted, if anyone around you has a collar they are probably management, but Mondays are certainly a shade of blue. Factory workers, assembly, packaging and shipping. Also jobs that involve carts of various sizes, and solvents of dubious labeling. Some construction sites have this vibe, but only really big ones.

There will be some kind of breakroom, with one nice bathroom, and the one the men use. Don’t worry about washing your hands, with the exception of before you pee for those of us sensitive to corrosives on their dangly bits.

If you need a fire extinguisher outside of the breakroom, its already too late. As far as fire exits, just follow the running and screaming people. It will be loud, there will be carelessness created by open spaces and mouths. Some of the machines will correct this carelessness.

There will be a sign about “X days since last accident” or some such, this will be in double or triple digits depending on the place. You probably bring your lunch, and food is prohibited in the working area. The soda machine almost certainly has the highest price per container that is physically possible on the display, and has a slot for bandaids, aspirin, or tampons. It will give you change as it sees fit.

RATING: 80’s level job satisfaction, pizza parties for quotas.

Alone with your thoughts you turn your attention to the questions humans have asked themselves throughout history. How did I get here? What is that smell, is something burning? When is lunch?

OSHA’s Eleven

A case can be made, that transport is the center of the bullseye when it comes to safety regulations. Whenever behind the scenes grunt work is done out in the full view of the public, you can guarantee there is documentation about how that particular chicken gets fucked. You are by and large the blue collar worker’s blue collar worker.

While it is very likely you will be behind the wheel of a vehicle of some sort, a huge bit of transport (be it products, animals, or people) is in the the various yard elf roles. For every driver there needs to be like 5-10 people who’s role is to fill, fit, and finalize inventories, routes and rituals. Without them none of this works, with them it still doesn’t work, but you have company. Everyone is in possession of a “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” ethos, and the CYA (cover your ass) factor is high.

OSHA will not be there to hold your dick (or funnel) while you piss. But instead of passive aggressive PostIt notes like the jobs above, there are binders, and inexplicably faxed updates to said binders so that one never forgets the hot breath of the regulatory state on their necks.

The good news here is that the warnings are fairly clear at least as far as YOUR safety. Almost everything looks “no frills” so no need for emphasis. If the iconic fire, and spikey bits of the decals don’t clue you in, the good old death’s head, grinning at you should instill the needed caution.

RATING: Shake hands with danger.

Your work is actively announcing its intentions, and they are not benign. It’s not for lack of trying that your environment has failed to maim or kill you.

Workmen, Compensated

Whether you work for someone, or are self (selectively) employed, these types of indicators are a bit more personal, and language barrier friendly. I don’t know if those are bees in that guys lungs or if that is a mechanical snake killing that man, but rest assured I am ready for my expectations to be subverted.

As we venture into the more independent, non-regulated areas of grunt work the signs become more of a parting gift than any form of a warning. You know how you got here, thar be dragons.

You are outdoors mostly, and it is a hostile place as well as a “toxic work environment” to say the least. You are likely carrying a running engine in your hands, or standing astride one. No need for corrosive or flammable signs, because that is literally everything, including you.

You trim trees, you pull shit out of the ground (sometimes literally), your paycheck is suspiciously generous and you don’t have a lot of “work friends” that you have known for years for some reason.

The WD-40 / Duct Tape / 5 lbs sledge of grunt workers, you have to stick, unstick, or start things most people never have to look at. Weld it, wield it, or weather it, you are just dodging “local man” headlines at this point. Women are far to sensible to be anywhere near this shit.

RATING: Be the danger.

Safetyman has had enough of your shit.

The Uninsured Masses

While it might beggar belief I assure you these are real-ass safety decals and signs. I thought Safetyman slumped over was a “Depression Hazard” sign, but it turns out it is “Confined Spaces” indicator, which you know, same thing. For those of you with a sick sense of humor like me I will include a gallery of some of my favorites I found in various decal joints, safety specs, and documentation at the end of the post. In my first stint as a grunt worker, things were slightly more tame graphically speaking. The funniest / most horrific one I had back in the day was this one, which almost seems quaint by contrast:

and also in the service we called this one the “Stove is not a cracker” warning, they were put on all the chemical stoves inside of MRE’s at the time:

All that being said, if you see some of these more illustrative warnings, you are operating far beyond anything like safety and oversight.

You are “freelance” on an oil rig, you are collecting scrap, playing with hazmat, or just generally operating equipment that the manufacturer will never recall, because they will be dissolved as a business by the time a lawsuit gets far enough along to bother them.

God bless them really, some jobs just have dangerous shit that needs to be done, and if we were all following the regulations and concerns of the well meaning we would be out here working with home-brewed horrors to get through the day.

I have definitely done work where these particular signs would now be relevant, but as of yet I have not delved back down that far into Dante’s Gloomy Walkabout, but who knows those Pizza Rolls don’t pay for themselves.

RATING: Loretta Lynn

The end of hostilities

And that is all I have to say about that for now. Shorter than my normal entries but maybe you all needed a break. I appreciate those of you who apparently do enjoy looking over my shoulder here. In tough times a little bit of acknowledgment goes a long way to make it less of a chore, and more like a comical journey. So yeah, thanks for that. For now here is the promised gallery of some of my favorite safety things I came across:

All I know is the lathe is the great white of the shop apparently.

Items of note:

• Baby getting run over by lawn mower

• Masking landscapers

• Disco of Dangers

• Severed limb as a lethal projectile

• Read a book or get shot in the face with your ignorance

As usual, thank you for reading, and I am sorry.

P.s. I finally got around to hooking up my old domain to this substack so if you want to share it you will have the joy of sending someone to www.dontbethatasshole.com now. You are welcome.