Surveying Class
I went back to school in my late 20s; partially to better my possibilities and partially to get a handle on my drinking & drugging.
I show up for the first day of survey, early, on a January evening. The instructor looks familiar so I go up and introduce myself.
We figure out that he is the foundation contractor at a development where I was piece work framing.
It made sense because I seem to recall the concrete was pretty level.
Class starts and first order of business is a discussion about Saturday hands on lab.
The instructor asks for volunteer crew chiefs and a few hard chargers who look like LDS poster boys put up their hands and present their credentials.
A couple had worked summers for the highway department and a couple had worked for surveying companies.
I figure, I’m definitely going to get on with one of these crews and figure I’ll bring donuts.
Instructor says “We need one more chief, looks at me and says ‘Drew, thanks for volunteering.’”
I’m peeved to say the least & say I level decks with a builders automatic level, a water level or a transit.
Instructor asks students what crew they want to be on and I end up with: A guy from Africa in a thobe, two women, one from Scotland and one from Costa Rica. I’ll admit at this time I was a lot less enlightened.
My man tells us we’ll shape up Saturday morning in front of the science building.
I go and talk to the instructor, asked him what I did to piss him off. I tell him I’m withdrawing because I am simply looking to skate through night school.
He observes that I can wrangle a crew of framers and read drawings and comes back with a deal- I get them through lab and he’ll give me an A.
First Saturday comes and as I recall there was snow.
So I pack a bag with a thermos of Irish Coffee, extra smokes, pens, pencils, an expensive HP calculator (almost as powerful as my current iPhone) that nifty surveyors notebook and a small maul.
I’m wearing what I wear to work; boots and layers.
Here’s my crew.
My African friend is wearing socks with his sandals.
The Costa Rican is wearing heels and a cute little short jacket.
The Scot is wearing wellingtons.
We draw our equipment- a transit, plumb bob, a tape, a rod and a thermometer.
So first thing we start going over how to set up the instrument.
Problem 1- this crew ranges in height from 6’3”- 5’0”, my immediate reaction is to set the instrument to my height. But we end up letting everyone set & level in turns.
Problem 2- you need to really pull and hold a surveyors tape to approach an accurate reading. Sandals don’t give one all that much traction and heels give too much. First try with me on one end and my Ghanaian giant ends up on his ass and the dark haired Charo’s heels get gaffed into the mud. At least when she put her ample ass into it the Scot could hold her own. We get it figured out and run our first circuit which was a find your own points exercise. End of the day we return our equipment and I ask to see everyone’s note books, which do not match.
So my first edict is no one writes anything down for record until we’ve collaborated. Basically I’m trying to make them understand that unless the beginning & end elevations match we’ve blown it…
Second direction was that Miss Costa Rica keep the interim field notes because her handwriting was flawless.
Third was that Bonny Brae really try to speak an English we could understand.
Fourth was that the giant understands that as the son of a minister he probably wasn’t destined to spend a lot of time in the field with a chain & a rod. I gently pointed out to the other two that upon returning home nobody was going to trust what they’d learned in the US and they would have to come up through the ranks.
Five was- no you can’t have any of my coffee.
So we did it my way.
When possible and on an out of the way part of campus we used my builders level (an instrument with a pendulum hung prism that sets up in a fraction of the time).
When we graduated to the theodolite and had an exercise that included determining the height of the water tower on campus I sent Bonny to the library to look it up.
When I brought a couple of extra pairs of irrigators we talked about taking care of our feet and figured out someone who wore heels was closer to 4’10”.
When I suggested some day drinking after class we discussed Haram, what good catholic girls thought of going to a dive bar and argued about Jamison’s vs Famous Grouse.
Seems to me we got through the class.
We didn’t discuss why they got Bs & I got an A.
Every tool I used, except the hammer, in that class is obsolete.
standup2p 