Saturday, October 13, 2012

My Worst Job.....EVER!

I've had some pretty awesome jobs in my life time....and some not so pretty awesome jobs. The worst was, by far, the job right after my first year of college.

I was fortunate to get a pretty good paying job working for Wasco County on their weed abatement team. This was actually the second year I had worked for them. 

The first year had gone great. I rode a 4 wheeler around all summer long looking for weeds in the fields.  Not too difficult, and it was a blast changing from one field to another. When we finished a field it was an all-out race to the next field. All eight of us riding with throttles wide open down the dirt roads that connected the fields.

So, my expectations coming back the next year were pretty high, and for a few weeks I did get to ride the 4 wheelers. Then came an offer I couldn't refuse.

"Dave, we've got a new project that we need to get started on. We're hiring another crew to work in the Gorge eliminating wild-growing fruit trees that attract fruit flies. We want you to be crew boss" my boss says.

This sounded like a pretty good gig on the surface. New job, pay raise, and at 18 years old, I was a crew boss for the county. I was proud that as an 18-year-old, they were choosing me over some of the older crew to be crew boss. In hindsight, I was probably the only one dumb enough to take the position.

The next week, we assembled a new crew and I was anxious to learn what it was that I was going to be doing the next couple of months. I had been reading up on the prime culprit that we would be trying to eradicate. 

Warning bells should have sounded when I learned the name of the tree. It was called a Hawthorne tree. You might notice that the name of the tree contains the word "thorn' in it. Don't let the cute "e" at the end of the word fool you. It should have been called, "Did-you-see-the-two-inch-thorns-on-the-branches-of-that-tree?" or "You-can't-pay-me-enough-to--cut-down-that-tree".


My first encounter with Mr. Hawthorne tree was almost my last. 

I grew up around chain saws. My dad was a logger when I was young, and I learned from him and my uncles basic chain saw safety. But they never had to cut down a tree that was bent on destroying anyone dumb enough to venture within ten feet of it.

The first day was chainsaw safety day. Since I had the most experience operating a chain saw, it fell upon me to do the training.

All morning long we instructed the new crew on safety. That afternoon we went out into the field to do some actual cutting. 

When we piled out of the crew cab, I got my first actually sighting of Mr. Hawthorne. From a distance, it looked pretty harmless. But as we got closer, I began to notice the thorns. And what thorns they were. On average they were about two inches, but there were some thorns that were a good four inches long. And these were true thorns. They were stiff and brittle and incredibly sharp. 

I couldn't help but feel some foreboding about my new job.

But I had a job to do, so I strode confidently towards the Hawthorne tree.

"As you can see, these trees aren't very large" I explained to my new crew. "This will work to our advantage because they will be easier to manage."

Firing up the chain saw, I cut off some of the lower limbs off the tree.

"You'll want to cut away any of the limbs that might catch your saw blade. Give yourself some room to maneuver around the base of the tree" I said with some authority.

I then began to cut at the base of the tree to show my crew how to drop a tree in the direction you choose.

I made a "face cut" with ease and walked around to the back of the tree for the "back cut". I hadn't been as particular about clearing some of the lower limbs on the back side of the tree. One teenie-weenie limb hung harmlessly down on my back. I hardly even noticed that it was there. 

Now, the thorns on a Hawthorne tree are stiff and brittle, but the branches are more like a willow tree limb. Long, thin, and springy. And strong. This will become very important to the rest of the story.

Cutting through the tree proved to be easy. I worked my back cut to the point of almost falling over and I shut off my saw.

"I've got my face cut and back cut almost meeting" I said to my crew. "Only a few more inches and the tree will topple over. At this point you need to be very careful and make sure you can safely get away from the tree before it falls on you."

My demonstration was going extremely well and I was proud of my clean cuts.

I strode again to the backside of the tree to finish the job. It only took a few seconds until the tree began to slowly tip away from me. Pulling the chainsaw free of the falling tree, I turned to make my way clear of the danger zone.

It took me only a step or two to realize that something was wrong. The teenie-weenie branch that had been lying across my back had attached it's thorns through my shirt. In panic I tugged at the branch. Hundreds of thorns dug into my back. Ignoring the pain, I tugged harder trying to break the teenie-weenie branch. The teenie-weenie branch did not break. The thorns dug deeper. The tree began to fall faster. I turned away from the tree with the intent of jumping out of the way even if the thorns shredded my shirt and puntured my skin.

Taking a step, I suddenly found myself being pulled backwards, and then to my dismay, I found myself airborne with a live chainsaw in my hands. Keeping the chainsaw out and away from my body was priority one. 

Crashing to the ground, I tossed the chainsaw off to the side. And then came the pain. Hundreds of thorns sunk into my skin as I fell onto the limbs of the tree. Some sinking a good half inch into my skin.

Alarmed, my new crew came running up to help me. One of the older crew members shut off the chainsaw that was still running. Others gingerly waded into the limbs of the Hawthorne with the intent of saving me. 

The sounds that the crew made trying to rescue me told me that they, too, found the thorns unbearable.

It took several minutes to get me untangled from Mr. Hawthorne tree. When I did get free, it looked like I had gone through a hamburger grinder. Blood covered my shirt, arms, and legs.

Half of my new crew quit that day. They were the smart ones. They are all probably doctors and lawyers by now.

I bet you're wondering why I chose a photo of a blackberry bush at the top of the page. There is one more tidbit of information about Mr. Hawthorne tree.

You see, he loves to live in dense brush. And for some reason, Mr. Hawthorne loves the company of Mr. Blackberry and Mrs. Poison Oak the best.
 Yep. Worst job....EVER!


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