CAT 6 Solutions LLC.

05/24/2026

05/23/2026

SAFETY SUNDAY (24th May 2026)

THE EMPTY CHAIR

Memorial Day weekend is here.

And I know what that means for a lot of people.

Cookouts.

Campgrounds.

Boats.

Cold drinks.

Flags in the yard.

A little extra time with family.

A chance to breathe before the grind starts again.

And I’m not here to take that from anybody.

Enjoy it.

Fire up the grill.

Hold your kids.

Sit with your wife.

Call your people.

Laugh a little.

Rest a little.

Live a little.

Because there are men and women who don’t get to do that anymore.

That’s the part we better not forget.

Memorial Day is not Veterans Day.

It is not just another patriotic holiday.

It is not just a three-day weekend wrapped in red, white, and blue.

Memorial Day is about the ones who didn’t come home.

The ones who left a chair empty.

At the dinner table.

At the reunion.

Beside a wife.

Across from a child.

In the middle of a family that still looks over sometimes, like they’re supposed to be there.

That’s the weight of this weekend.

The empty chair.

And if you’ve lived any kind of life…

If you’ve worked any kind of dangerous job…

If you’ve stood in a Union hall after a bad phone call…

If you’ve ever seen a hard hat sitting on a table where a man should’ve been standing…

Then you understand that chair.

You understand what it means when somebody doesn’t make it home.

Now let me be crystal clear.

I’m not comparing linework to military service.

Far too many people do that already.

I’m not putting our trade beside combat.

I’m not making Memorial Day about us.

Memorial Day belongs to the fallen men and women who gave their lives in service to this country.

Period.

We honor that.

We respect that.

We say their names.

We remember the cost.

But if that remembrance doesn’t sharpen how we live…

If it doesn’t make us hold our people tighter…

If it doesn’t make us give a damn about the man standing beside us…

If it doesn’t make us more disciplined with the life we’ve still been given…

Then what are we really doing?

Because memory without action is just a ceremony.

And I’m tired of ceremonies that don’t change behavior.

I’m tired of hard hats off, and heads bowed…

Then right back to rushing.

Right back to assuming.

Right back to half-assed job briefs.

Right back to silence when somebody knows damn well something doesn’t feel right.

That’s not honor.

That’s performance.

And the dead deserve better than our performance.

So do the living.

This weekend is about the fallen.

But Tuesday morning is about the ones still standing.

The ones still climbing.

The ones still leading crews.

The ones still trusting another man to watch what they can’t see.

The ones still walking back into the arena with wives waiting…

Kids waiting…

Mothers waiting…

Fathers waiting…

Dogs waiting by the damn door.

Lives waiting.

That’s what safety is supposed to be about.

Not slogans.

Not posters.

Not polished speeches from somebody who hasn’t had mud on their boots since Clinton was in office.

Stewardship.

That’s the word.

Safety is stewardship.

It’s looking at the man beside you and understanding his life is not yours to gamble with.

It’s knowing your silence can become somebody else’s funeral.

Your hurry can become somebody else’s empty chair.

Your assumption can become a phone call a family never recovers from.

And I know that sounds heavy.

Good.

It should.

This work is heavy.

The cost is heavy.

The names are heavy.

The ghosts are heavy.

And some of us carry more of them than we ever talk about.

Some of us can still remember exactly where we were when we found out.

Some of us still drive past a place and feel something in our chest tighten up because a memory lives there.

Some of us hear a name and go quiet.

We carry names in this trade.

Don’t act like we don’t.

Some are military names.

Some are family names.

Some are Brotherhood names.

Some are trade names.

Some are names from crews we worked with.

Some are names passed down by old hands who got real quiet when they told the story.

Some are names that never made a headline, but damn sure left a hole.

And this weekend…

Maybe we ought to let those names talk to us.

Not with guilt.

With responsibility.

Maybe we ought to let them remind us that going home is not automatic.

It’s not guaranteed.

It’s not owed.

It’s protected…

By how we lead.

By how we listen.

By how we speak up.

By how we slow down when slowing down matters.

By how we refuse to let a Brother walk into something just because stopping him might be uncomfortable.

That’s where honor becomes behavior.

That’s where remembrance becomes responsibility.

That’s where Memorial Day reaches past the weekend and actually changes the way a man walks back into the arena.

Because the real work is before the incident.

Before the flash.

Before the fall.

Before the contact.

Before the phone call.

Before the wife answers.

Before the kid sees people pull into the driveway, and somehow knows life just changed.

Before the chair becomes empty.

That’s where leadership lives.

Not in the speech afterward.

In the decision before.

So this Memorial Day weekend…

Say the names.

Honor the fallen.

Stand still for a moment and actually feel the cost.

Not the political noise.

Not the social media performance.

The cost.

The human cost.

The empty chair.

Then take that weight with you when you go back to work.

Let it make you sharper.

Let it make you more present.

Let it make you more honest.

Let it make you more accountable.

Let it make you unwilling to trade a life for a schedule.

Because there are already enough empty chairs in this world.

There are already enough names carved into stone.

There are already enough families trying to build a life around a hole that never really closes.

There are already enough crews carrying men they couldn’t bring back.

This weekend belongs to the fallen.

But Tuesday belongs to the living.

And when we step back into the work…

We owe it to both.

We owe it to the ones who gave everything.

And we owe it to the ones still waiting on us to come home.

So enjoy your weekend.

Love your people.

Say the names.

Remember the cost.

Then come back right.

Come back locked in.

Come back humble.

Come back unwilling to tolerate the kind of bu****it that gets good people hurt.

Because the best way to honor those who didn’t make it home…

Is to fight like hell for the ones who still can.

The Truth Lives Here…

Better… NEVER RESTS

~Kevin | Lineman Bull$hit™ Academy

05/08/2026

THE ROOM WAS FULL... BUT THE GAP WAS STILL THERE

I spoke in Michigan this week.

And before I say anything else…
I need to make one thing clear.

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to stand in front of that room.

Almost 300 Union hands.
Brothers and Sisters of this trade.

Journeymen.
Apprentices.
Foremen.
General foremen.
Safety professionals.
Leadership.

Men and women who know what it means to work on the line… in weather… under pressure… in the middle of conditions most people will never understand.

I don’t take that lightly.
I never will.

Anytime I am given the chance to speak to the people who carry this trade on their backs, I consider that an honor.
And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

But gratitude doesn’t require silence.
Respect doesn’t require agreement.
Brotherhood doesn’t mean we avoid hard conversations.
Sometimes it means we have them because we owe each other that much.

And that is where I am after Michigan…

Because I’m going to be honest about something.
If I’d known in advance about the ground-to-ground gloves-and-sleeves policy…
And if I’d known about the dielectric overshoe policy ahead of time…
I wouldn’t have agreed to present…

Not because I don’t respect the people in that room.
I do.

Not because I don’t respect Union labor.
I damn sure do.
I carry my ticket in my pocket.

Not because I’m afraid of hard conversations.
That is exactly where I live…

But because I won’t knowingly walk into a room and lend credibility to something I believe deserves to be challenged at the foundation.

There are policies that improve the work.
There are policies that protect the worker.
There are policies born from blood, consequence, investigation, learning, and experience.

And then there are policies that sound good in a conference room but start falling apart the minute they hit the field…
The right of way…
The rubber glove work…
The underground cabinet…
The muddy easement…
The storm job…
Or the actual hands doing the actual work.

That’s where we have to be careful…
Because policy without field reality is not safety.

It’s liability management dressed up in safety language.
And I’m tired of pretending those are the same thing.

This trade already has enough real hazards…
Electricity.
Backfeed.
Induction.
Traffic.
Weather.
Bad footing.
Poor communication.
Rushed handoffs.
Production pressure.
Unclear switching.
Fatigue.
Complacency.
Assumptions.
Human error.

We don’t need to manufacture more confusion by stacking policies on top of workers without making damn sure those policies are understood… practical… defensible… and connected to the real work being performed.

And that brings me to the part I cannot stop thinking about…
A large portion of my presentation was centered on the ET&D Best Practices.

Stop Work Authority.
Cradle to Cradle.
Qualified Observer.

Not as buzzwords.
Not as filler.
Not as something to check off so we can say safety was covered.

I talk about them because those Best Practices are supposed to be living tools in this trade.

They’re supposed to show up before the work starts.
They’re supposed to show up when the job changes.
They’re supposed to show up when a hand senses something that doesn’t feel right.
They’re supposed to show up when the crew needs another set of qualified eyes locked onto the critical steps of the work.

Stop Work Authority isn’t supposed to be a poster.
It’s an OBLIGATION…
A Qualified Observer isn’t supposed to be some vague title handed to whoever is standing nearby.
Cradle to Cradle isn’t supposed to be a phrase people hear once and forget.

These Best Practices are supposed to mean something…

They’re supposed to protect the hands doing the work.
They’re supposed to give structure to judgment.
They’re supposed to slow the crew down long enough to see what speed and pressure are trying to hide.

Because of that gap…

I had to change my message in real time.
I walked into that room with a direction.
I knew what I intended to deliver.
I knew where I wanted to take them…

But once I realized there was a disconnect around the foundation of the ET&D Best Practices…

I had a choice to make.
I could keep pushing through the presentation I prepared…
Or I could meet the room where it actually was.

So I changed the message…
Not because I was unprepared.

Because the room needed something different than what I thought they needed when I walked in.

That’s what teaching requires.
That’s what leadership requires.
That’s what this work requires.

You don’t just dump information on people and call it training.
You read the room.
You listen for the gaps.
You adjust the message.
You bridge what they know to what they need to understand.

And within the time I was allotted…
That is exactly what I tried to do.

I tried to bridge the gap.
I tried to connect the policy to the practice.
I tried to connect the language to the field.
I tried to connect the Best Practices back to the hands they were created to protect.

Because if the foundation is not understood…

The rest of the message does not land the way it should.

And that’s why the question has been eating at me.

How does a room of almost 300 Union hands not know about the ET&D Partnership…
Stop Work Authority…
Cradle to Cradle…
Qualified Observer…

And still not clearly understand where their company policies and those Best Practices come from?

That question has been sitting heavy on my chest.

Because Best Practices are not magic.

They’re not just some safety department phrase.
They’re not corporate buzzwords thrown into a PowerPoint so everybody can feel like something meaningful happened.

Best Practices come from the work.

They come from the field.
They come from incidents.
They come from near misses.
They come from fatalities.
They come from lessons paid for by people who did not get to come home the same way they left.
They come from the hard collision between standards… experience… investigation… and reality.
They come from labor and management sitting at the same table and saying…

WE HAVE TO DO BETTER…

They come from the understanding that the man in the bucket… the apprentice on the ground… the foreman carrying the job… the general foreman coordinating the work… and the family waiting at home all deserve more than guesswork and slogans.

So I have to ask it again…

How did almost 300 Union hands not know that?

How did we get to a place where people can work under policies every day and still not understand the source… purpose… intent… or weight behind the Best Practices that shaped this industry?

That’s not an insult to the room.
That’s an indictment of the gap.

The gap between what gets written and what gets taught.
The gap between what gets enforced and what gets explained.
The gap between what leadership assumes everyone knows and what the field is actually carrying.
The gap between compliance and understanding.
The gap between policy and ownership.

And that gap is dangerous.

Because when workers do not understand the why…

They either blindly comply…

Or quietly resist.

Neither one is leadership.
Neither one is culture.
Neither one is how professionals are built.

Union hands are supposed to be the standard…

That doesn’t mean perfect.
That doesn’t mean above correction.
That doesn’t mean immune from hard conversations.

It means we are supposed to know the work.
Know the rules.
Know the history.
Know the reason.
Know the blood behind the language.

Know when something is protecting us…

And know when something needs to be challenged...

That is the responsibility that comes with the ticket.

You don’t get to just say “I’m Union” and then stop learning.

You don’t get to wear the title and ignore the obligation.

You don’t get to stand in the room while policies are handed down and never ask where they came from… what problem they solve… how they are supposed to be applied… and whether they actually make the work safer.

The ticket is not decoration.

It’s a burden.
It’s a responsibility.
It’s a promise that you will carry the trade forward better than you found it.

And that means asking hard questions when something does not line up.

So yes…

I spoke in Michigan.

And I’m grateful that I did.
I’m grateful for the hands that listened.
I’m grateful for the Brothers and Sisters who showed up.
I’m grateful for every conversation before and after.
I’m grateful for the opportunity to bring my heart… my experience… my scars… and my belief in this trade into that room.

But I also walked away with something heavy on my mind...

We have a knowledge gap.
We have a communication gap.
We have a leadership gap.

And if almost 300 Union hands can sit in a room and not clearly understand where Best Practices come from…

Then the problem is bigger than one policy.
Bigger than one presentation.
Bigger than one company.
Bigger than one local.

That is an industry problem.
Industry problems require industry courage.

We need to stop treating Best Practices like optional trivia.
Let's stop treating policies like commandments handed down by people who never have to work under them.

We need to stop letting safety language replace field education.
And we need to stop confusing obedience with understanding.

Because this trade does not need more blind compliance.
It needs better leaders.
It needs better teachers.
It needs better questions.

It needs more Journeymen willing to say…
Explain it.
Show me where it came from.
Show me how it applies.
Show me how this protects the hand doing the work.

And if it doesn’t…
Then let’s have the courage to say that too.

That’s not rebellion.
That’s stewardship.
That’s Union accountability.
That’s Brotherhood.
That’s Sisterhood.
That’s how a trade stays alive.

That’s how we honor the ones who paid for these lessons before us.

That’s how we make sure Best Practices remain connected to the best people this industry has…

The hands in the field.

Better… NEVER RESTS.

The Truth Lives Here…
~Kevin
Lineman Bull$hit™ Academy

04/12/2026

SAFETY SUNDAY (April 12, 2026)

JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE’S STANDING THERE…
DOESN’T MAKE THEM A QUALIFIED OBSERVER
— & —
3 MAN POLE CHANGE OUT CREWS ARE CORPORATE COWARDICE
Lineman Bull$hit™ Academy

I took a break last weekend for Easter…
But I’m back today with a hard refresh from my ET&D Best Practice Series…
And I’m not easing into this one.

Because some things in this trade deserve a calm conversation…
And some things deserve to be dragged into the street… knocked to their knees… and beaten with the truth until there’s nowhere left to hide.
This is one of those.

When I say a 3-man pole, change-out crew…
I mean, 3 men total.
Foreman… lineman… and one other.
Not 3 plus a foreman.
Not “help nearby.”
Not some office version of the job drawn up by somebody who never has to stand in the mud.

And that third hand damn well ought to be another JL…
But far too often… he’s not.

Everybody knows it.
The utility knows it.
The contractor knows it.
The supervisor knows it.
The safety department knows it.
And the men in the field sure as hell know it.

But the job gets pushed anyway.
Because too many utilities and power companies would rather squeeze manpower than tell the truth…
The work takes what the work takes.
And if that means more men… more time… more money…
Then so be it.
Instead… they build a skeleton crew… call it efficient… and leave the field to bleed the difference.
That ain’t leadership…

That’s corporate cowardice.

LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR
I’m sick of hearing companies talk safety out of one side of their mouth…
While gutting manpower out of the other.
I’m sick of the slogans.
Sick of the banners.
Sick of polished safety talk from people who wouldn’t know real field exposure if it climbed up in their lap and pi**ed on them.
You do not get to pound your chest about safety…
While sending 3 men total to do a pole change-out.
You do not get to preach “Nobody Gets Hurt”…
While starving the manpower it takes to do it… with a margin.
And you sure as hell don’t get to stand on profit… reliability… shareholder confidence…
While the men and women keeping the lights on are expected to absorb the risk with their bodies.
That bill doesn’t get paid in a boardroom…
It gets paid in mud… traffic… weather… bad footing… time pressure… overloaded minds…
And sometimes… in blood.

A POLE CHANGE-OUT IS NOT LIGHT WORK
This is serious work.

Equipment movement…
Rigging…
Load control…
Digging…
Setting…
Transfers…
Conductor control…
Ground conditions…
Traffic…
Public exposure…
Communication…
Stored energy…
Changing conditions…

And right in the middle of all that…
These companies still want to act like one man can also serve as a true Qualified Observer?

While helping…
While spotting…
While rigging…
While moving material…
While trying to keep the job from stalling because the crew is too damn lean…

No.
Hell no.

That is not a Qualified Observer.
That is a man being split into pieces so a company can pretend the role still exists.
It doesn’t.

JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE’S STANDING THERE… DOESN’T MEAN S**T
Let’s stop bastardizing the term.
“Watch him for me.”
“Keep an eye on that.”
“You’re the observer.”

No.
That’s not a Qualified Observer…
That’s a warm body standing in the blast radius.

A real Qualified Observer is locked in.
Eyes on the task.
Understands the hazard.
Understands exposure.
Understands MAD.
Understands cover-up.
Understands the movement of men… material… and equipment.
And has the authority… and backbone… to stop the job the second something drifts.

That role is not symbolic.
Not decorative.
Not a box to check.
That role is a line between order… and chaos.
And if your staffing model doesn’t allow that line to actually exist…
Then your staffing model is the hazard.

QUIT CALLING IT TOUGHNESS
This is where I’m going to p**s some people off…
Good.

Because 3-man total pole change-out crews are too often sold as toughness.
Like it’s gritty.
Like it’s old school.

That’s bu****it sold by people who benefit from the gamble.
There is nothing noble about underbuilding a dangerous job.
Nothing gritty about starving a crew.
That’s not toughness.

That’s exploitation with a hard hat on.
And when the crew somehow pulls it off…
Everybody acts like the model worked.

No…
The crew worked.
Survival does not equal soundness.
Getting away with it does not equal best practice.

RECORD MONEY… DISCOUNT MANPOWER
These companies find money for everything.
Executive pay…
Consultants…
Brand campaigns…
Investor confidence…
Everything gets funded.

But when it comes time to properly man a dangerous job…
Suddenly, it’s all about efficiency.
Funny how that works.
The “less” never comes out of the offices…
It comes out of the crews.
Out of the margin.
Out of the buffer that keeps a hard day from becoming a funeral.
So here’s the question…

At what cost to the men and women keeping the lights on?

LEADERSHIP… THIS BLOOD DOESN’T JUST LAND IN THE FIELD
If a 3-man total crew is overloaded from the jump…
That’s not just a field problem.
That’s management.
That’s planning.
That’s values.

Because somewhere… someone said…
“Good enough.”

Good enough on manpower.
Good enough on margin.
Good enough on risk.
And then sent somebody else to stand in it.
That’s why I call it cowardice.

Because it’s easy as hell to be brave with somebody else’s life.

FINAL WORD
Just because someone’s standing there…

Doesn’t make them a Qualified Observer.
Just because a utility says it’s staffed…
Doesn’t mean it’s safe.

Just because a crew has survived a bad model…
Doesn’t make it right.

And just because companies keep making money…
Doesn’t give them the right to discount the manpower it takes to do dangerous work with integrity.

So let me say it plain…

3-man total pole change-out crews are a disgrace.
Not lean…
Not tough…
Not efficient…
Not best practice…
A disgrace.

Be your brother’s keeper…
And stop letting cowards in clean shirts define what “enough” looks like for the people doing the real work.
Better… NEVER RESTS.
~Kevin

03/08/2026

SAFETY SUNDAY

THE LINE BETWEEN SURVIVAL AND STATISTICS
March 8, 2026

This one comes directly out of a conversation happening inside the Best Practices Classroom in the Lineman Bull$hit™ Skool community.

Some of you may have seen me post about this before.
Maybe you’ve heard me say it on a jobsite… or at a summit… or standing next to a bucket while we’re talking through the work.

But with some of the videos circulating lately…
and with a few incidents we’ve seen across the trade recently…

…it needs to be said again.

Because in this trade…
Lessons don’t get repeated because we like hearing them.

They get repeated because someone forgot.

And when someone forgets…
…the price gets paid in skin, bone, and funerals.

THERE ARE TWO KINDS OF LINEMEN
There are two kinds of linemen in this trade…

Those who truly understand Insulate & Isolate…
…and those who have simply survived long enough to wish they had learned it sooner.

I’ve been around this arena long enough to see both...

Long enough to bury brothers who trusted luck when they should have trusted best practice.

Long enough to watch crews gamble with inches like the line gave a damn about their confidence.

Let me say something that every lineman should understand deep in his bones…

The line has never cared.
Electricity is brutally honest.

It does exactly what physics demands… every single time.
And the moment we drift outside the protection of Insulate & Isolate…
…it doesn’t hesitate.

Not for a second.

THE TRUTH WE DON’T SAY LOUD ENOUGH
Insulate & Isolate isn’t a suggestion.

It’s not a “program.”
It’s not a safety slogan.
It’s not something you do when management is watching.

It is the spine of live-line work.
No I&I…
no work.

No debate.
No excuses.
No, “this will only take a second.”

You can bluff your way through rigging.
You can fake confidence during switching.
You can bu****it your way through a storm call long enough to look like you belong.

But you cannot outsmart electricity.

And yet…

Too many crews still treat I&I like it’s optional instead of the only barrier between their body and a casket.

That right there…
…is Lineman Bull$hit.

THIS WAS WRITTEN IN BLOOD
The ET&D Partnership didn’t come up with Insulate & Isolate because someone in a cubicle needed something to do.

It came out of incident investigations...

From burn reports.
From fatality reconstructions.
From crews standing around asking one brutal question…

“How did this happen?”

Every best practice in that guidance exists because somebody didn’t make it home.

Every requirement exists because someone paid the price first.
That’s the truth behind the words.
THREE QUESTIONS THAT DECIDE EVERYTHING
Before a qualified lineman puts his hands anywhere near energy… three questions better already be answered.

Not casually.
Not hopefully.
Honestly.

1… Am I INSULATED?
Rubber on.
Cradle to cradle.
No gaps.
No shortcuts.
No, “I’ll be fine.”

I’ve seen more men hurt in that one quick move than during some of the worst storms I’ve ever worked.

2… Am I ISOLATED?
Barriers set.
Tools positioned correctly.
Clearances maintained.
Body position disciplined… not lazy… not convenient.

Electricity doesn’t care how experienced you are if you drift inside the wrong space.

3… If something goes wrong right now…
WHAT is between me and the energy?
If the answer is
“not much”
or
“probably enough”
…you’re not working smart.

You’re gambling.
And physics always wins that game.

WHY CREWS ACTUALLY FAIL AT I&I
It’s rarely because they don’t know better.

Most linemen know the rule.
The real problem is something else...

We shortcut familiar tasks.
Production whispers in our ear.
Muscle memory replaces deliberate thinking.
Confidence replaces respect.

And complacency starts riding our shoulders like a comfortable jacket.

But complacency is a killer.
This trade does not forgive comfort.
BROTHERS… THIS PART MATTERS
Insulate & Isolate isn’t about compliance.

It’s not about pleasing safety.
It’s not about paperwork.

It’s about Brotherhood.

It’s how we protect the man beside us.
It’s how we honor the ones we buried.

It’s how we make damn sure some kid doesn’t grow up without a father because somebody didn’t want to grab another set of sleeves or move six inches.

Every inch matters.
Every barrier matters.
Every layer matters.

You think it’s overkill?

So is a parachute…
…right up until the moment you need one.

THE CULTURE WE ARE BUILDING
Inside the Lineman Bull$hit™ Skool community… especially in the Best Practices Classroom…

We don’t water this down.
We don’t dance around the truth.
We talk about the things that actually keep men alive.

Because the reality is simple…

Insulate & Isolate is the reason you wake up tomorrow.

It’s the difference between a long career…
…and a short obituary.

It’s Brotherhood in practice.
Not on stickers.
Not on shirts.
Not on patches.

In practice.

If you're going to work hot…
You damn well better work protected.

Non-negotiable.
Unapologetic.
Uncompromising.

Because this trade has bled enough already.
FINAL WORD
There is no glory in toughness if you die proving it.

There is no pride in shortcuts if the price is a funeral.

Insulate.
Isolate.
Every job.
Every time.

Cradle to cradle.
Lock to lock.
No bull$hit.

Because at the end of the day…
This isn’t about rules.

It’s about going home.

And making damn sure your brothers do too.

~Kevin | Lineman Bull$hit™ Academy
Better... NEVER RESTS

03/04/2026

DON’T THROW STONES FROM A GLASS BUCKET

Three incidents… two days.

Texas… down lines… member of the public… the kind of reminder that proves the world still doesn’t understand one simple truth…

If it’s down…it’s live until proven otherwise.

Then we lose a 19-year-old communications kid.
Nineteen.
And we’ve got a lineman… JL or a seasoned hand… seriously injured because the equipment went sideways.

And before the damn dust even settles… here come the saints.

The “never on my crew” crowd.
The “somebody was careless” crowd.
The men who haven’t done a real assessment in years but can sure as hell type fast.

Let me say this clean…

If you’ve never had a close call… You either haven’t done enough work… or you’re lying.
So before you start throwing stones… remember…

We all live in glass houses.

Some of y’all live in glass houses with cracked foundations…and you’re still acting like you’re built out of concrete.

THE PART THAT SHOULD MAKE YOU SICK
A 19-year-old kid was working communications in the powerline environment.

That’s not a “different trade.”

That’s the same pole… the same weather… the same conditions…
the same unforgiving physics.

So here’s the question…

Did that kid even know what MAD is?

Minimum Approach Distance.
Not a suggestion… not a guideline… not “be careful”…
It’s the line between living and dying when you’re working around energized distribution.

Did somebody teach him what the power space actually is?

Did somebody explain how fast you can cross that boundary without realizing it… especially when you’re rushed… fatigued… cold… wet… or trying to impress somebody?

Did anyone teach him that you don’t get to “learn this one the hard way”… because the hard way is a funeral?

Or did a company throw him in hooks, slap him on the back, and send him up the pole with the most dangerous sentence in this industry…

“You’ll figure it out.”

Because, let’s be honest… and this is where people get uncomfortable…

There are a lot of small communications outfits out there… especially on the non-union side… running work like a damn hustle.

Training is inconsistent… if it exists at all.
Orientation is a signature on a clipboard.
Safety is a buzzword.

And the kid is the one paying the price.
Not the owner.
Not the supervisor.
Not the guy counting production.

The kid.

AND WHILE WE’RE AT IT… EQUIPMENT DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR RESUME
Now let’s talk about the other incident.

A lineman hurt bad… equipment-related.

And I already hear it…

“He should’ve checked it.”

Maybe.
But we also need to talk about reality…
How much equipment is held together by hope and habit?

How many times have we all said…

“It’ll make it one more week.”
“It’s been doing that.”
“Just be careful with it.”
“We’ll tag it later.”
“We don’t have another unit.”

That’s glasshouse living.

So again… slow down with the judgment.

Because if your fleet is perfect, your inspections are flawless, and your equipment never surprises you…

Congratulations… you’re either the luckiest outfit in America… or you’re not looking hard enough.

STOP WORSHIPPING OUTCOMES
This industry has a sickness…

If nobody gets hurt… we call it “good work.”

Even if the plan was trash.
Even if the briefing was rushed.
Even if the equipment was sketchy.
Even if the MAD was violated “just a little.”
Even if the whole thing was a near-miss masquerading as normal.

That’s not excellence.

That’s gambling… and getting away with it.
Until you don’t.

And then everybody pretends they never play cards.

HERE’S WHAT NEEDS TO CHANGE… RIGHT NOW
If communications crews are going to work on power poles…

Then powerline-level hazard training isn’t optional.

MAD has to be taught like the gospel.
Power space has to be understood like it’s a loaded weapon… because it is.

And if a company can’t provide that…

If they can’t train it… enforce it… audit it… and prove it…

Then they don’t deserve to send people up the wood.

Period.

Because burying 19-year-olds isn’t “part of the job.”

It’s a failure of leadership… a failure of training… and a failure of standards.

SO BEFORE YOU POST… SHUT UP AND LOOK IN THE MIRROR
Before you talk about what “they” did wrong…
Ask yourself what your outfit is tolerating right now...

What you’ve normalized.
What you’ve ignored.
What you’ve been “meaning to fix.”

Because those little things… that little tolerated Bull$hit…
That’s how people DIE...
And if you’re throwing stones today…

You'd better be damn sure your own house isn’t made of glass.
Because in this trade…

It usually is.

STOP GAMBLING WITH LIVES…
Better… NEVER RESTS
~Kevin | Lineman Bull$hit Academy™