Despite multiple safety measures, construction persists as being one of the most dangerous jobs in the country of Canada. As a mental defense against the threat of injury, many of us in the field have developed a gallows humor, which means we try to laugh at grim situations.
Combine that with a looming sense of nuclear destruction, and the bitter humor gets cranked to 11.
Automation systems provide comfort and efficient temperature control, so that was why I found myself visiting such a facility.
When you first visit a site, one often has to undergo an orientation. These are vital to providing facts such as meeting locations in event of trouble, points of contact, and where and when we are not allowed to take pictures or have our phones on us.
It was during such an orientation that I heard the best plan ever if there would be a critical disaster while on site.
“Here are the emergency shelters.” Our guide, one of the facility operators said, pointing to a site map. “In the event of the alarm sounding, you have minutes to get to there.”
I listened intently. Although Nuclear power is incredibly safe, the meltdown of Chernobyl and Fukishima was always present in the minds of those who worked on that certain CANDU reactor in a particular Ontario town.
Curious, my coworker who was with me asked the operator, “Can the reactor actually explode?”
The operator laughed. “Look, just because we were the first facility to suffer a partial meltdown in the world, we’ve switched production to making medical isotopes. The shelter is more to protect your lungs than shield you from a nuclear blast.”
He paused, smiled, and then said, “Although, if a nuclear blast ever will occur here, I guarantee you the shelter will do nothing to save your lives.”
Concerned, I asked, “So, what can we do?”
“Put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye.” Was one response from the small crowd in the room, and the tour guide laughed.
“What would you do?” I rephrased my question, still not understanding the lack of danger I was in.
Unable to wipe the grin from their face, the operator announced, “You know about nuclear silhouettes?”
I nodded.
His face was almost split in two as the operator continued.
“I have a contingency plan. If we EVER face a meltdown, I’m going to grab a baseball bat I keep under my desk, stand against a concrete wall, and hold that bat like it was my dong. I will die a hero, leaving my shadow as both the man with the biggest dick ever, while looking like, in my last moments, I was rubbing one out for all eternity.”
Ya know what, if nothing else, the operator is a legend in my mind, and it’s something I know I’m NEVER going to forget.