My first full week at the job, and for some reason I was more nervous than for the first few days. I spent those getting myself together administratively, putting together a list of what I need to get done and writing up a giant spreadsheet of existing data.

But today was the day that I had to get out there in the field and start filling in the unknowns on my table. The site’s been sitting unattended for ten years, so I have to go evaluate each building, each service connection, and each backflow preventer. It’s going to take me a good couple of months to get it all sorted out. In the interest of saving some time and really getting to know what I’ve got, I decided to test each backflow preventer right on the spot, rather than just noting them and going back to see if they work. That’s not really the way it’s done, but since I wear both the survey hat and the repairman hat, it made sense.

So I started with an easy one. I picked an empty building with a few irrigation services but no major industrial stuff and I went out and did my thing. The survey part is pretty easy, although I have to train myself to look for different things. Last time I went through these buildings, I was after environmental issues, and now it’s just water. I never had to trace pipes to a boiler or a cooler on the roof before, but it’s not rocket science and I can do it.

Once I got out to the testing part, that’s where it got interesting. Most of the units are not even legal any more, but if they pass a test, I can bump them a little lower on the priority list - we only get so much funding, and this rehab is going to take a few years. I’m finding that it was an Air Force policy to paint the shit out of these things though, and apparently nobody told the flunky doing the painting to not paint the threads - they’re there for a reason. And I’m sure not going to ruin the threads of my very expensive gauge trying to cram it onto an illegal installation anyway. So those are quick - a big fat FAIL and I’m done.

On my way out to one that’s made me roll my eyes for years, I was crossing a well-watered lawn. Since it was getting soggy, I took a step onto a valve box cover, thinking it would be a nice dry place to set my gauge. Not so! The box was actually so full of water that the lid was floating, and as soon as I stepped onto it, it shot out from under my foot like I’d stepped on one of the kids’ skateboard. My leg went down (and it was the bad one too) and the next thing I knew, I was standing about two feet shorter than I usually do, and my boot was taking on water. Well, shit. At least I didn’t break the valves or my leg.

I squished back to my truck after I failed that unit, dumped out my boot, and went on back in to the office to dry out a little. This office may not know what’s hit them - it might have been a better idea for me to office with the working guys, but that’s where the files I need are.

Once I recovered enough dignity, I went on to another building. This one had a bunch of units in assorted boiler rooms, and of course, they were all very spidery and about eight feet off the ground. Fine. I borrowed a ladder, strapped on my shiny new tool belt (which works wonderfully - why didn’t I think of this before?) and reached in past one to turn it on at the valve. And of course, that one had a major leak, which is why the valve was off in the first place, and equally of course, I was standing right underneath the leak. The first I knew of it was as it shot down my back, into my new toolbelt, and giving my pants a double dose of stinky water.

I hopped off the ladder, thought about it, and hopped back on to turn the valve off. I wasn’t going to get any wetter after all.

So, wet legs, squishy boot, wet shirt and tools. Dirty hands from ten years of dust and cobwebs, now wet. Sweaty head. Spiders. Barked knuckle.

And you know what? I really like this job.