It wouldn’t be prudent to discuss all the details of my Dirty Gig in New Zealand … suffice to say we were in Christchurch to do clean up after the recent earthquake — a 7.1 on the Richter scale, at 4:30 a.m., Sept. 4 . The company and the client will remain nameless. What I will tell you is C-O-L-D.
Our team had two projects in Christchurch. One was a facility that stores millions of printed documents. I didn’t get that assignment. My job — along with several of the other disaster dudes — was to work in a huge frozen food storage plant. The individual freezer rooms were about the size of football fields (American football). One was filled to the ceiling with frozen meat. The other filled to the ceiling with tons and tons of ice cream — cartons, boxes, cones, coronettas, cups, trumpets … you name it, in every flavor known to man. Even “Napoleon” as my mom used to call the three-colored treat. The racks … almost 4-stories in height, were toppled over domino-style, creating mountains of frozen protein and calcium, if I might break it down. The best — white chocolate raspberry bars, although we were not allowed to eat anything.
True that … the meat and the ice cream all were discarded due to partial thawing and because of the insurance loss stipulations.
But just for fun, we altered the slogan of an American ice cream brand to this: “We eat all we can, and we throw away the rest.” Thank goodness, none of this was in the heap — Bluebell
Yes, my loyal weight watchers, this was one of the saddest times in my life as we — supervisors and a team of 20-30 Kiwi laborers — loaded dumpster load after dumpster load of meat al la mode.
Did I mention it was cold? We were told the warmer of the two freezers was minus 15 degrees. The colder, an Antarctic-like minus 24. Hmmm … I don’t know if they were talking Celsius or Farenheit. Surely it was Celsius, since I am alive to write about it. Which reminds me … In New Zealand the hard hats are much more mod-looking than U.S. hardhats. They call the helmets “skid lids,” BTW. I thought the helmets made us look like the firemen in the movie version of Farenheit 451, if you know it. I digress …
I cannot verify the temperatures, but I will tell you that in addition to my Dirty Gig uniform and my illegal workboots (see previous blog), I wore high-altitude hiking socks, a hoodie, a woolen face mask, a neck warmer, three pairs of gloves and ever-warming mutton chop facial hair — frozen facial hair that is. Oh … and all of that was under a special coldsuit — an overall-type garment, probably made for either snowmobiling or perhaps South Pole expeditions. If you didn’t know, New Zealand traditionally is the last stepping off point for explorers before they go further south to Antarctica. So I guess it is fair to say that we looked sort of like Admiral Peary. Oops. Wrong pole.
Ha! That reminds me of a dinner I had back in the States with CBS 60 Minutes’ Scott Pelley a couple of years ago, with 5-6 other people. The network newsman had recently returned from the Antarctic, where he reported on the frozen continent and temperature change. One of my colleagues, who will remain nameless, asked if Pelley had seen polar bears drifting on glaciers … Ha … I about crawled under the table to hibernate … Uh, close but no Eskimo Pie … wrong pole,” although there was a 50-50 chance,” I thought at the time … I digress …
Anywho … we were in the wrong hemisphere for polar bears, but the temperature and the ice cream would have made them feel at home, I’m sure.
Like every job in my Dirty Gigs — in many cities — one of the most enjoyable things is working with the local laborers. There is always a wide assortment of nationalities, creeds, life experiences, educational backgrounds, and diverse personalities. The New Zealand gig was no different, supervising laborers from New Zealand — some with New Zealand/European ancestry, Maori and Samoans, with a few Irish, a Canadian and even an American mixed in. We meet some characters! Typically, it is a little sad to leave a job, after making new friendships and working closely as a team. Also, many times, as a supervisor of laborers it is a challenge to keep up the momentum as people carry out repetitive tasks. I at least attempt to interject humor into the situation.
Here’s an example of all of the above. After a long day of moving ice cream from point A (a frozen heap) to point B (a rubbish “skip” … or dumpster as we say in The States), I could see my team was losing interest. I jokingly goaded them and urged them on toward the finish line … like some field commander in Gallipoli or other foreign war movie … “Come on lads, come on! Get angry, lads. Get mad at the ice cream!, ” I yelled at the workers, in a mock authoritative, militaristic voice. “Show that cream who’s boss!”
Enter my new friend “Jethro” … yes as in Jethro Tull. Jethro isn’t his real name but it is what his mates call him, and I am proud to consider myself one of them. Jethro appears to be a rocker, so I assume the nickname has something to do with the Jethro Tull band name. Who’s to say? He is probably 6-3 but only a slim 170, I am guessing. He has longer, blondish “Tom Petty-esque” hair. He is a scrappy Kiwi and an extremely hard worker. Oh, on his suntanned face, and neck, he has several tattoos … not the dark Maori tribal warrior looking tattoos that you see in New Zealand, but a more rocking, artsy type of design. Yes he is a hard worker … and he is a character.
So, I was cutting up a bit with Jethro, and yelling for him to push on and to “get mad at the ice cream … show it who’s boss” … when … he turns to me with the most deadpan look on his face (in addition to tattoos), and he responds in a great Kiwi accent … “I’m sawry, bud I’m ehfraid uv lost me mojo!” Maybe you had to have been there .. But it was classic and has become a regular in me favorite “sayings for funny occasions” file.
And speaking of rockers, I mentioned earlier in the blog that American metal icons Metallica were scheduled to play in Christchurch. Naturally I struck up a conversation with Jethro to see if he would attend. He said, yes, if he could get tickets. You see, both shows were sold out … and that was after Metallica added the show to their tour, based on a signature-drive petition in which the Kiwis begged for the show. My point — it was a hot ticket. We discussed all things rock, for a bit.
I think I gained a few points in Jethro’s eyes when I told him I had interviewed Stevie Ray Vaughan back in the day, obviously way before the helicopter crash. (More on helicopters in an upcoming blog.) If you read this blog you also know already that I directed him to my Joe Strummer interview on this site: Strummer, The Clash
Unintentionally, I may have overstated me mojo a bit. Because Jethro wanted to know if I had also interviewed Neil Young or Bob Dylan. I had not, although Jethro, I did make Dylan mad once upon a time … another story for another day.
Man … I still have that Counting Crows song stuck in me mind … “something something … down in New Zealand …”
Know what I sayin?
(More New Zealand blogs to come …)
