The search for housing in Grants, Milan, and beyond was going nowhere but not for lack of trying. There were just very few vacancies, and those that came up went to friends and relatives of the departing occupants without ever being advertised.
Orientation
About the high blood pressure diagnosis, I have never been sure. It didn’t seem likely to me, but I started taking the pills as prescribed, hoping against hope I could pass the physical and finally get to work. The following Monday I drove back to the clinic for a recheck of my blood pressure. I had taken those pills each day as instructed.
It was all over in five minutes as I passed the blood pressure test. With my certified physical exam in hand, I went back to the Kermac office, where I was scheduled for a three-day orientation beginning that Wednesday.
Every new Kermac hire was required to attend a company orientation class whether or not they had any mining experience, mill experience, or underground experience. It was a three-day course that explained how things were done at Kermac and what the federal and state rules and regulations were pertaining to underground workers. Orientation concluded, everyone would report to their respective mine.
Not knowing what to expect, I reported to new employee orientation on Wednesday, ready for anything.
As I looked around the room, it occurred to me that I was in a distinct minority. The guys there looked like they had worked in this business before, but more importantly and more confusingly, they were speaking in a vernacular I had never heard before. I knew they were discussing mining, but that was about the extent of it.
I overheard a conversation between a couple of men, who it seemed had worked together before, talking about a third. “Where ya been, pard?” said the first.
“Been workin’ in Green River at the Tony M,” the other replied (many mines were named after people). “Fuckers don’t pay contract.”
“Fuck that. Didn’t Simpson tramp out there?”
“Fuckin’ A. Fuckin’ missed a cutout. Fuckin’ motor got ’em. Hospital. Laid up fer a while now, pard.”
“No shit; that’ll do it.”
I didn’t know what a motor was or what a cutout was or why Simpson the tramp was working in a mine, but it didn’t sound like whatever had happened was good when I heard them mention a hospital.
Conversations like that were going on all around me when into the room walked another rather grizzled-looking older man, who announced the beginning of Kermac orientation. I have long forgotten the instructor’s name but have been able to piece together the gist of what he said to us. His brief opening statement went something like this:
“How many of you men have worked underground?”
As luck would have it, all hands went up except mine. That right there made me stand out, and I can unequivocally assure you that being a new guy who knows nothing about mining isn’t the preferred method of standing out in the company of miners.
Our instructor, to whom I was already profoundly grateful for not pointing me out, mercifully ignored me and continued to address the group, or more specifically, me.
“OK, you new guys, listen up. Mining isn’t for everyone, and working underground isn’t for everyone. Let me tell you right here, if any of you guys get off the cage and can’t take it, then you just get right back on and head back up, and nobody will think anything of it.”
I wondered what the “cage” was. It didn’t sound good, but I figured it must be something that has to do with getting underground. What kind of business was this that a guy could get off the cage and immediately not be able to “take it”?
Can’t take it, eh? That did little more than set my resolve. I wasn’t going to be the guy who “can’t take it.” The instructor continued.
“Now, I don’t know where any of you men have worked before, and it don’t matter, but here at Kerr-McGee we take safety seriously. Safety first, men. You’ll always scale the ribs and back before advancing. We don’t want nobody working any ballrooms. There won’t be any blasting except at lunch and after shift. We don’t hand light rounds here; everything is electric with central blasting.
“You always wear your safety glasses and ear plugs. No smoking underground, men. Take your ventilation with you at all times. We test here, and if you get too much radon, you’re done and on the surface where you can’t make money, so like I said, take your ventilation with you. And all you men know if your pard don’t show up, you can’t work on yer own. You either get a temporary helper that day or you don’t work.”
Then, again speaking to me without looking my way, he said, “And you new guys, you laborers, listen up: we never work alone here. Like I said, you got a pard with ya, or ya don’t work.
“If you run a motor, you pull every trip light. If you’re walking the main drift, be aware of where the cutouts are. We don’t want nobody getting run over again. Make sure your battery is charged before shift. Be sure to tag in and out. We don’t want to waste time looking for yer ass if you ain’t really missing or dead. Oh, and here at Kermac you’ll all have a dog tag attached to your belt with your name and social. That way when something happens and there’s not that much left, at least we’ll know who it was that there’s not much left of.” How comforting that all was to hear.
Based on the looks the men were giving each other and the commentary running under their breath around the room, Kermac orientation was the industry standard at every mining company and usually consisted of the same basic spiel from a retired miner converted to an instructor. Most of the guys around the room were either disinterested or nonchalant about the whole thing, so I tried my best to look and act the same. That didn’t last long.
Orientation went on like that for some time as the instructor emphasized all the areas he would later be going over in detail. Most of the mining terminology whizzed over my head, but from the sound of it, mining could be dangerous, and safety was a good idea. If nothing else, Kerr-McGee orientation class impressed upon me the importance of safety.
Sometimes I’m asked how safe it was to be around uranium ore. I learned in orientation that a small chunk of uranium ore has about as much radiation as a bunch of bananas. Much later I looked that up and found it to be true as bananas contain radioactive isotope potassium–40.
I had many questions, the sheer number of which would have taken up an hour or more. I had no intention of drawing that kind of attention to myself among this group of veteran miners. I wasn’t about to ask what a drift was, what a ballroom was, what a trip light was, and what exactly was meant by “run over again.” But it seemed safety was to be taken seriously, and I liked the sound of that. More proof I knew nothing about contract mining, where every safety regulation cost a miner time and thus money.
Orientation continued for the promised three days, and as it progressed I slowly learned what many of the terms being referred to meant. But having never been underground, I found it difficult to visualize what a mine really looked like. Still, I resolved not to make any inquiries of the instructor so as not to draw attention to myself as the no-experience new guy.
Today if I am ever asked what a mine looks like, I’ll say, “Think of an ant farm.” Looking at a map of the mine I worked in always reminds me of an ant farm.