 | irishgit (138)
05/09/2008 |  Where I grew up, this was relatively easy to get, if you were in decent physical shape and willing to put up with primitive conditions far from home, long hours and pretty good coin. I did the summer and fall after I dropped out of university. After a week in camp they made me a chokerman, which is as crappy a job as exists in the world, but another couple of bucks an hour. The work was 12 hours a day, 14 days on, 5 days off. Tons of overtime pay. On your off days the outfit put you on a boat to the nearest town to go crazy. Liquor was forbidden in camp, but a lot of folks smuggled it in, and I and others supplemented our income with a little bootlegging. Gambling was pretty common too, and I learned the hard way how to shoot craps, and improve my poker game. The risk of injury was pretty high (one killed, two seriously injured while I was there, one permanently disabled and numerous lesser injuries) the work was gruelling and often performed in torrential rains. The push (foreman) was the toughest SOB I've ever seen, a wiry, scarred little bastard who could swear for ten minutes without repeating himself and wouldn't hesitate to back up his words with his fists or the toe of his boot if he thought it necessary. I got back home in November with more money than I'd ever seen, a determination never to return to that kind of work, and a pile of memories to last a lifetime. I always think this was the year I grew up.
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