Responsibility creeps

How many balls can workers keep in the air before they drop on (or more) with catastrophic results?

It starts innocently enough. The site supervisor says: “Is there any chance you could get in early and unlock the gates?” You agree. You’re a team player and hey, you’re an early riser anyway.

A few days later, the site supervisor says he’s been summoned to a management meeting. “Can you stay a bit late and lock up?” Of course you can. You’re old school. When work is over, you always hang on for a few more minutes, making sure your machine is properly parked and ready for work the following day.

The following day, you see that same site supervisor heading for his car at 3.00 in the afternoon. One of your colleagues hands you the gate keys and says you’re taking care of the lock up again. “It would have been nice to have been asked,” you think. But you lock up regardless.

And that is how responsibility creep begins.

You came up through the ranks and you were taught by an industry veteran. Although it’s not in your job description, you regularly maintain your machine and you even carry out minor repairs. The younger operators look up to you; in fact, they rely upon you to maintain their machines as well “because you’re better at it”. Somewhere along the line, you became the grease guy for the entire site. In fact, you’re not just the guy that applies the grease and the oil, you’re expected to maintain the stock of lubricants and machine consumables for the site.

You’re also the guy with the first aid kit in the cab of your machine. Anyone with a cut or a graze comes to you; those that arrive with a headache or a hangover rely on your supply of paracetamol. So when the company decides it needs an official first aider, your name is top of the list. There’s no extra money in this for you, of course. But you were doing the job anyway. And besides, you’re quite proud to be the go-to guy for medical issues. And so, when your company grudgingly climbs aboard the mental health awareness bandwagon, you are the ideal choice as mental health first aider. You’re already taking care of the physical health of your co-workers, so why not take care of their mental health as well?

Your fellow operators, particularly the younger ones, admire and respect you. So when a rookie operator arrives for his first day, you are the de facto mentor and tutor, all rolled into one. You show them how to get the best out of their machine, how to care for their machine, and you show them the ropes. Again, there is no financial compensation. But you’re seen as a veteran and you’re keen to pass on the knowledge you have gained across your career. And besides, you quite like the rookie operator - He reminds you of yourself when you were still green.

As the weeks and months pass, you notice that you’re seeing the site supervisor or the site foreman less and less frequently. The light is on in the site office; and on colder days you can see steam rising from it. But they rarely if ever walk the site. The day-to-day running of the project has been silently passed to you; and because you see each new project as your baby, you have absorbed that responsibility too.

Your machine is due for replacement. It’s a shame because you have grown to love that machine; but you’re excited at the prospect of a shiny new replacement.

“What do you think we should get?” your boss asks. “Let me do some homework,” you reply. In truth, there’s very little homework to do. You love your job and, when you’re not in a machine, you’re reading about them in trade magazines and online. You attend equipment exhibitions in your own time and at your own cost; your finger is constantly on the industry pulse. So you make your recommendation before ultimately compromising because your boss got a better deal elsewhere.

Your machine arrives, factory-fresh. It has all the features you have come to expect. But what’s this? While your previous machine had a bucket slung from its dipper, this one has a tilt rotator. You’ve never used a tilt rotator before and you have always managed just fine. Frankly, you’re a little insulted that anyone might think you even need a tilt rotator. But that night, after your dinner, you are glued to YouTube, teaching yourself how to operate this new piece of kit.

With all your years of experience, you’re a fast learner. Pretty soon, you can no longer imagine working without a tilt rotator. It has become an extension of you; a vital tool. And so, when you’re told that your machine is about to be fitted with a fancy new GPS system, you see it not as an imposition. You see it as an opportunity to be even more productive that you already are.

You’re right, of course. It does make you more productive. But it also makes you directly responsible for ensuring that all excavation work complies with the plans sent to your machine wirelessly while you weren’t looking. As you now have that information at your fingertips, you are regularly quizzed by the client over productivity levels and operational accuracy. In fact, you are now taking calls from the client and from your head office on an almost hourly basis. They could and probably should call the site supervisor. But he’s busy with paperwork or he’s left early again. And besides, you are right there at the coal face. You don’t even need to leave your cab - You can see precisely what is going on via one of the screens with which you now share your cab.

And that’s how it gets you. You were employed as an excavator operator. You have a little plastic card that says as much. If anyone asks you what you do for a living, you tell them - proudly - “I am a machine operator”.

But are you? Are you really? The truth is that, with the passage of time and with the creep of additional responsibility, you have become site security, a fitter, a stock controller, a nurse maid and an agony uncle, a machine specifier and tester, de facto project supervisor and client liaison. Yet, when you look at your pay cheque, it still clearly describes you as a machine operator. And that is reflected in how much you’re paid.

Your role and your responsibilities have expanded exponentially; and yet your wages have remained strangely static.

It’s almost as if that was the plan all along.