Learning the value of patience the hard way
Murph looks back on a day that stays with him decades later.
The Day
It was a bank holiday weekend, and I was 18 or 19 which meant two things:
- I wanted to be anywhere but work.
- I DEFINITELY didn’t want to be up on a gantry welding stainless steel pipe.
At that age, my weekends were reserved for cycling and socialising. So, being dragged into work felt like punishment.
I remember being high above a huge packaging and filling hall, the size of a football pitch, with lines of machines, all fed from the pipework I was welding. It was noisy and hot, the last place this teenager wanted to be when his mates were out.
I thought I was being hard done by, but I was about to be taught a lesson I’ve carried with me for the rest of my life.
I finished my last weld and we were heading out for a much-needed cuppa and butty. As I left, the foreman called to the operator:
“When we get back, we’ll need to connect up the water line and walk the system.”
‘Walking the system’ meant filling the lines with water to check for leaks. It was all very sensible, straightforward.
Our cabin was on the far side of the site. We walked there, had our brew, and wandered back. But, when we got back to the hall, I was gobsmacked to see a spraying hose snaking through the door. The scene inside was absolute chaos.
What happened?
Well, the operator, ‘trying to be helpful’ grinned at me sheepishly, and said words I’ll never forget:
“I’ve started filling the lines for you…”
There was water everywhere, like Niagara bloody Falls. It was pouring from the gantry, splashing down over the machines, flooding the hall. All those new welds had been put under pressure at once, and every tiny imperfection was exposed in the worst possible way.
I froze.
In my head, I was already blaming myself, convinced all of this trouble was coming from my welds. After what felt like an eternity, the foreman snapped me out of my trance with those immortal words:
“Hurry the f*ck up and find the leak!”
So, we climbed back onto the gantry, up to the section I’d just welded. To my great relief, every weld was holding strong. That’ll put a little spring in your step! Maybe it wasn’t my fault after all? And sure enough, it soon became clear that a couple of joints were missing seals and so were spraying water, like burst hydrants.
The Lesson
That day I learned about patience.
I learned that systems should always be tested at the right moment, with the right preparation, and in the right sequence. Because sometimes, the worst disasters don’t come from malice or laziness, they’re a result of good intentions applied at the wrong time.
Up on that gantry, everything was (and is) interconnected. A single leaky weld could shut down an entire line, maybe even the whole hall. My smallest mistake had the potential to ripple out into chaos for everyone else. So, be patient! Do it by the book!
Thankfully, the mistake turned out not to be mine. But the lesson stayed with me all the same. In complex systems, packaging halls, businesses, or even families, everything is interconnected, so be patient!
A single weak joint can bring the whole thing crashing down. And while it’s tempting to rush, skip steps, or ‘be helpful’, timing and discipline will always matter more than speed.
Sometimes the best help you can give is knowing when not to turn the hose on.
Sopping wet and exhausted, as I climbed down from the gantry, the customer was waiting. He must have read every emotion I was feeling (I’ve never had much of a ‘poker face’). He asked calmly:
“Paul, is anyone injured?”
“No,” I replied.
“Then don’t worry about it. We can fix the rest.”
He then walked me into the canteen, where we saw the carousel-style vending machines were flooded, with food floating about inside, soaking wet. The owner looked at me, and we both burst out laughing.
Don’t rush.
Stress test whatever it is you’re doing before it’s asked to bear a load.
You’ll always be glad you did.
Murph
