I remember the day clearly.  It was warm, not hot, with a breeze to keep us comfortable. I had been working at that site, building frames to install solar panels for several months. It was very physically demanding. I didn’t like the job, but I liked the money it gave me.

I was working for the Laborer’s Union for about a year and was employed more often than not. I worked on demolishing buildings and road paving crews. The Union was a place for the old school ‘Jack-of-all-trades’ types. It was a good fit for me.  While there were often drinkers and pot smokers, I didn’t spend a great deal of time with the other workers after a long day because we didn’t have much in common.

I was promoted to lead hand quickly because the Superintendents knew I wouldn’t come in high or hung over. Being a lead hand had its perks of course, like staying employed when the work thins out each winter. When others joked about being on the “Canadian Ice Fishing Team,” I worked. It was nice to have a steady income, rather than getting half pay from employment insurance.

That day, the crew I was on was ahead of the second crew in putting the frames together. With the frames measuring 35 feet long and weighing roughly 200 pounds, it wasn’t always easy to stay ahead of the others.  Towards the end of the day we were pushing hard and didn’t want to slow down yet. That’s when it happened.

Lifting one beam after another, we had worked well as a team. We were getting tired though. The man I was working with turned around facing away from me without letting me know he was doing this. It’s a simple mistake and happens all the time, but this turned out differently.

As the other man lifted his end of the 35-foot-long beam onto the frame, his back suddenly had a sharp pain, and he let his end drop.  Without warning my end scissored my left arm between the beams, pinching it and holding it while the beam bounced, once, twice, and a third time. Cursing in pain and frustration, I tried but failed to free my arm as that beam bounced.  A voice in my head was saying, “This is a career-ending injury.  It’s over now. You’re done.” 

At first no one realized anything had happened, but when the ‘short words’ became very loud and very abrupt, a few of the crew came over to lift the beam off my arm. Once free I walked away for a minute holding my wrist and trying to take deep breaths to try and regain my composure.

Several people asked if I was alright, and I said what most older construction workers do, “It’s FAR from the heart! I’ll be good to go in a few minutes.”

Several minutes later I was still tingling with pain and numbness that should have gone away. That same nagging voice told me that things were more serious than I wanted to admit. I reluctantly reported the injury to the safety officer on site and kept trying to play it down.  I feared any ‘real’ injury could lead to a layoff. There were already whispers of lay off in the coming months, and I wasn’t willing to give up a paycheck just yet. I had a lifestyle I had gotten used to.

Not wanting to get laid off, I was very hesitant to say how badly I was actually feeling. A few of the men on my crew could see I was favoring my left arm, lifting only with the right and doing as little with my left hand as I could get away with. My arm, from the elbow down to the tips of my fingers felt like it had fallen asleep, pins and needles all the time.

Trying to work was difficult. I could no longer comfortably lift the 200 plus pound beams as I had before. I had a hard time trying to get a grip on wrenches and was no longer able to handle the vibration of the impact drills. The site bosses started to notice that I was unable to do the work I needed to. It was only a matter of time before I was demoted from lead hand to lighter duties. My worst fears were soon realized when I was given the job of putting bolts onto clips that would later hold the solar panels in place on the frames. I was humiliated. From lead man to making clips.

In the construction world, being given light duties is equivalent to being demoted from VP of the company to the mail room! I knew my name had been moved to the short list of layoffs that would be happening in another month or so. I was still trying to tell myself things would be alright and would work out for the best. All the while, that voice kept reminding me that not only would I be out of work soon, but that I would not ever be able to return to the same kind of work.

A few weeks later, I was forced to see the doctor because of the pain.  And that’s when the layoffs began. More than 100 or the 600 plus workers on site had been let go, our crews were about to get thinned out. I could see it coming a mile away, but held onto the false hope that I would somehow be spared and allowed to keep working.

Middle of the week the Big boss came by our crew to let everyone know that work was slowing down and he had to let people go, there was no longer a need for so many workers now that the project was nearing completion. In my head I heard that voice and denied it again.  At the end of the day when the crews went to sign out, several were let go. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, there was no denying it now.

It was not until we signed out for the day that we were told that we wouldn’t be needed on Monday. “The job just doesn’t need this many people anymore” is what we were told. Some were told to call them Monday morning to see if there was work, which we all knew meant they were the ones coming back. This was the politest way to tell the men who weren’t coming back, and was the best way to avoid anyone blowing up at the bosses.

A few of the men who were let go joked around saying they would enjoy the last little bit of beach weather the summer had to offer before they joined the “Ice Fishing Team.” We all had laughs about the work we had done, the time off we now had. We talked about projects at home we wanted to get done. More than one joke was at my expense.  Guys said I should have taken time off a month earlier when I first got hurt.

My mood was much more somber than the other’s. I could only think of bills I had to pay and that my reduced income wouldn’t cover dinner out, or movie night anymore.

About the Author: Robert D. Fretz is an author and photographer living in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. To hear the rest of his story, grab a copy of Out-of-Work to Making Money, 21 Comeback Stories Every Job Hunter Should Hear