Oh, look at you. You showed up today. Bravo. Round of applause. You clocked in, nodded through the safety huddle like it was story time, signed your name on the
sheet, box checked, done. Technically, yeah, you’re “present.”
But are you? Really?
Because let’s not kid ourselves, I see it every damn day. Some driver barreling down the highway, not just daydreaming, but on a video chat. Camera on, face out there for the whole world to see, like they’re hosting a talk show while cruising 70 mph. Oh, and the dog? Climbing in and out of his lap like it’s casual Friday. That’s not multitasking, that’s madness. Then there’s the dozer operator, no video chat, no dog, just flat-out lost in space. Body in the machine, brain orbiting somewhere around Jupiter. Blade down, attention gone. Meanwhile, some kid thinks it’s a good time to dart across the tipping pad because, wow, “huge machines!”
And it’s not just out here on the job. It’s everywhere. The kid walking into the sandwich shop at lunch, face buried in an iPad, slams into the glass door and then actually gets mad at his mom, like it’s her fault gravity exists. Same thing. Different setting. Checked out, tuned out, blind to what’s right in front of them.
And oh, my personal favorite, the laborer on the roadside. Air-pods jammed in, head bobbing like they’re front row at a concert. Totally vibing. Except, minor detail, cars are ripping past at 70 miles an hour and a fire truck’s screaming its lungs out right behind them. But sure, don’t mind the sirens, the beat just dropped, right?
Here’s the thing, you’re here. Physically. I’ll give you that. But mentally? Checked out, gone fishing, brain on “do not disturb.” And in this industry? Any industry really, that’s not just careless. That’s the safety version of "hold my beer", and we all know how that story ends. And here’s the ugly truth, the job still looks like it’s getting done. Trash pushed, roads cleared, shifts covered. From the outside, it works. But inside? Nobody’s actually present.
That gap, that empty space between “showing up” and being here, that’s where the accidents live. It’s where near-misses hide, waiting to become tragedies. It’s the blind spot that doesn’t care how long you’ve been on the job, how many hours you’ve clocked, or how tough you think you are. That gap doesn’t discriminate, it swallows rookies, veterans, and everyone in between.
So, what do we do? We close it. We stop pretending that “attendance” is the same thing as awareness. We put the phone down. We look up from the wheel and the blade. We take the damn air-pods out. We actually see the chaos around us instead of drifting through it.
Being present isn’t magic, it’s a choice. It’s the discipline of checking your surroundings one more time, even when you’re tired. It’s the humility of realizing the rules aren’t suggestions, they’re the only thing keeping you alive. It’s holding your buddy accountable when you see him zoning out and letting him hold you accountable too.
We get there the same way we get anything else done in this industry: consistently, deliberately, one shift at a time. By calling it out when we see it. By refusing to normalize distraction. By reminding ourselves, and each other, that no pile of trash, no load, no shortcut is worth not going home.
Because the truth is, the work will always get done. The question is... will you be fully there to do it, or will you just be another name on a sheet, halfway present until the gap swallows you whole?
This industry doesn’t tolerate ghosts in hardhats. The machines are unforgiving, the sites unpredictable, and the line between safe and gone is razor-thin. Half here is already halfway to gone.
So yeah, show up. Clock in. Smile for the boss. But maybe, just maybe, also be here, because at the end of the day… the job doesn’t wait for you to pay attention. Trash still moves. Loads still get hauled. Slopes still get covered.
The machine doesn’t care if you’re distracted, daydreaming, or halfway asleep, it just keeps running. And here’s the brutal truth, the work will get done… with or without you.
The choice is yours, be part of the living crew… or just a memory.
