Can I Keep the Hard Hat?

Clothes to get dirty in? Check!

High energy and lots of morale? Check! 

Hard hat...? No check 

When I showed up on my first day on the construction site, it was not only my non-existent hard hat that made me stick out like a sore thumb, it was the glowing bubble that bounced atop my head screaming, "I have no idea what I am doing". 

Kelly wore a pair of uncomfortably long jean shorts that hugged her thighs like long-lost lovers reunited. Her hands were constantly shifting between her measuring tape and the safety glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. She is every ounce girl scout troop leader meets nuclear physicist - the ultimate combination of dorky and assertive. I knew she sniffed out my amateurism from across the build-site as she headed my way to assert her dominance in the form of home-building lingo and architectural know-how. 

Kelly, despite the yelling and complex vernacular, is kick-ass. Within a few minutes of meeting her, she steamrolled the notion in my head that told me I would solely be working with vulgar men. Not only that, she was the superintendent of the site. She was the MAN.

Let me backtrack...

For quite some time, I've been interested in a career in home building, but the view from the deep trenches of the software industry looked like I would have better luck becoming a professional dog whisperer than a skilled home-builder. However, when my white-collar desk job decided to take me on the roller-coaster tour through the seven layers of hell this year, I started to consider testing my odds. 

After shadowing a home builder and receiving respected advice from some friends that I needed hands-on experience before making the jump, I applied to work for Habitat for Humanity as a volunteer builder. Fast forward to my first day on the job, and that is how I found myself, hard-hatless, shaking Kelly's calloused hand. 

While the task at hand was to install a subfloor (the structural flooring of a home, pictured below), the bigger task for me was establishing myself as a reliable asset to the team.  

Early in the day, I was asked to be a guinea pig and demonstrate how the floorboarding was pounded into place. Swing a sledgehammer? "I got this no problem" were the words crossing my mind when I fell split-legged straight through the sub-floor. I was more focused on impressing Kelly than I was on my foot placement, and I very quickly learned the number one rule in construction: be aware.

In an awkward fashion, I curtseyed in front of the crew for my stunt. In pursuit of disguising my embarrassment, I lost track of my feet once more and I plummeted straight into the pit of shame. Bruised butt. Bruised ego. Reliable asset? More like an unreliable liability. 

Throughout the day I swung and missed many nails, got covered in glue, and undercut too many pieces of wood. I volunteered for every position possible and failed at least twice at all of them. It was clear that my career in construction was over before it started - or so I thought. When I was just about ready to throw the towel in, Kelly presented me with a hard hat, a snort, and a giggle followed by "you're going to need this." While the hard hat very may well have been a joke about my clumsy nature, I saw it as an invitation to stick around, to learn, and to continue making mistakes - this time with my noggin protected. 

That hat to me is what a suit of armor is to a knight. I was suddenly invincible. I stopped missing nails, I used the glue gun like a pro, and my sledgehammer skills were powerful and precise. Newer volunteers started asking me to demonstrate what I was doing and the senior crew had actually left me to be in charge for quite some time. 

...and THAT is when it hit me

I set the wrong expectations for the day from the get-go. That first day in the field was not about becoming a reliable asset. That first day and all the days to come are about failing courageously and building community. Once I swallowed my pride, I was able to focus on enabling others and developing a strong team. My crew the first half of the day was an entirely different crew the second half of the day, and a strong team sure does build a strong house. 

When the 12-hour day was said and done, I had one question on my mind, "can I keep the hard hat?" As if she read my mind, Kelly walked over, duck tape and sharpie in hand, and said "write your name on it and bring it with you next time." 

I don't think Kelly knew how much it meant to me; this hat was my ticket to return. My ticket to not only to build more homes but to build more teams so we can all build something bigger than ourselves. 

In this exploration of the construction world, I want to keep the why in mind, so I will lead this: 

Welcome to my 6 new subscribers. Thank you for following me on this journey and thanks for reading. If you have any stories about a major career change or you currently find yourself in a similar spot, shoot me a message, I'd love to chat about it. See you here next week!