THE CONSTRUCTION CAREER LADDER IS ACTUALLY A DECAGON WITH MONSTERS AND WRONG TURNS

By Canadian Joe, Operator, Philosopher of the Jobsites, and the Only Man Who Can Quote Jordan Peterson While Operating a 980M Loader

This is what a great office looks like - Canadian Joe.

Listen here, you beautiful disaster of a human being.

The experts keep telling us the construction career path is no longer linear.

Well, no kidding, bud.

I figured that out in 2019 when I showed up to a site and they handed me a tablet instead of a hard hat and told me to "sync the BIM model."

I didn't know what BIM meant.

I thought it was a typo for "BUD" as in "hey bud, grab a coffee."

I was wrong.

I was very wrong.

Now let me tell you something Jordan Peterson would say if he ever showed up to a site meeting at 6:00 AM with a Tim Hortons in one hand and a copy of Maps of Meaning in the other:

"Clean your room."

Well, on a construction site, we clean our rooms every day at 4:30 PM.

It's called "picking up your garbage so the safety inspector doesn't have a stroke."

And that's when I realized: the old career ladder is gone.

It's been replaced by a decagon.

That's ten sides, for those of you who didn't pay attention in geometry because you were too busy learning how to actually build things.

And on Side Seven?

There's a monster.

His name is "Digital Workflow Integration."

He has forty-seven legs.

Each leg is a different software platform.

None of them talk to each other.

I've seen him.

I've watched him consume good people.

Larry entered Side Seven last Tuesday.

Came back speaking fluent Bluebeam.

He's not the same man.

He's better now.

Faster.

More terrifying.

Welcome to the new construction industry, you absolute lunatics.

FIELD EXPERIENCE IS STILL THE FOUNDATION (AND ALSO THE FRAMING, THE DRYWALL, AND THE ROOF)

You can't understand construction technology until you've spent a winter in Edmonton working on a high-rise when it's minus forty and your fingers are so cold you can't feel the difference between a screw gun and a coffee cup.

That's field experience.

That's the foundation.

That's the lobster hierarchy of the jobsite.

Dr. Peterson has often explained how lobsters establish dominance hierarchies.

They fight for territory.

The winner gets the best rocks.

The loser skulks off to the sad rocks.

Construction sites are exactly the same.

Except instead of lobsters, it's electricians and plumbers fighting over ceiling space.

Instead of rocks, it's the prime parking spot closest to the trailer.

And instead of claws, they use passive-aggressive RFIs.

I've seen it.

I've lived it.

I've been the lobster who lost the rock and had to park in the muddy lot.

You learn from that.

You learn humility.

You also learn to bring extra boots.

According to Jordan Peterson, life requires "bearing the burden of being."

On a jobsite, the burden of being is carrying three rolls of rigid insulation up six flights of stairs because the hoist is broken.

That's not a metaphor.

That's Tuesday.

TECHNOLOGY IS CREATING NEW ROLES (AND NEW WAYS TO LOSE YOUR MIND)

The experts say technology is creating new opportunities.

And they're right, you beautiful bag of hammers.

But here's what they don't tell you:

Technology is also creating new ways to look like an absolute fool in front of people who have been building things since before you were born.

You know what used to get you in trouble on a jobsite?

Not showing up on time.

Not having your paperwork.

Driving the loader into the mud pit because you thought it was solid ground.

You know what gets you in trouble now?

Forgetting your password.

Having your tablet die in the middle of a BIM coordination meeting.

Trying to explain to a sixty-year-old steel erector why he needs to "click the green button" instead of "just doing it the way we always did it."

I remember Dr. Peterson saying that "life is suffering."

Well, life is also trying to explain to a superintendent why the cloud isn't actually a cloud and he can't just "wave a net at it."

I had a guy on my site last summer.

He was twenty-three.

He had a degree in construction management.

He could run a 4D schedule like a concert pianist.

He could not, however, tell me which way the water flowed on a sloped roof.

I watched him stand in a puddle for forty-five minutes trying to figure out why his boots were wet.

That's the new construction industry.

You need to know how to run Procore.

You need to know how to interpret a risk heat map.

You also need to know that water flows downhill.

And that sometimes, the foreman knows more than the software.

And that if you ask the wrong question at the wrong time, you will be sent to get "the wire stretcher."

I'm not saying the wire stretcher isn't real.

I'm saying you will never find it.

And that's part of the job.

One time, Jordan Peterson explained that archetypes exist across all human experience.

Every jobsite has them.

The Wise Old Welder who's been doing it since 1978 and can fix anything with a zip tie and a prayer.

The Trickster Electrician who hides his tools in other people's gang boxes.

The Concrete Guy Who's Been Divorced Four Times and tells you about it every single day.

The Apprentice Who Keeps Asking If His Phone Can Charge in the scissor lift.

I've worked with all of them.

They're not metaphors.

They're your crew.

And every company says they've slain the monster on Side Seven.

Then Oracle updates something.

The monster grows another leg.

We tried feeding it interns once.

It only made him stronger.

MENTORSHIP IS EVERYTHING (AND EVERYTHING IS WRONG)

The experts say mentorship is critical.

And they're right.

But here's the thing about mentorship:

The best mentors don't give you career advice.

They give you life advice.

Life advice like:

"Never trust an architect who wears sneakers to a site walk."

"The coffee in the trailer is always terrible. Make your own."

"If the union steward asks you if you're 'comfortable,' say no. Always say no. Then ask for more money."

I assume Jordan Peterson has a chapter about telling the truth.

That's why I always tell the project manager exactly how far behind we are.

He hates that.

But it's the truth.

And I stand up straight with my shoulders back when I say it.

Like a lobster.

I had a mentor once.

His name was Frank.

Frank had been in the industry for forty-three years.

He had seen things.

Things that would make Jordan Peterson write a really long book about archetypes and chaos.

Frank never read Jordan Peterson.

Which was probably for the best.

They would've become too powerful together.

Frank once stared at a change order for twenty minutes, sighed, and muttered:

"This is what Jung meant by chaos."

Then he went for a smoke.

Frank taught me how to read a blueprint.

He taught me how to spot a bad weld from thirty feet away.

He taught me that sometimes, the best way to solve a problem is to take a really long lunch and hope someone else fixes it.

Frank also told me never to trust a man who carries a briefcase on a jobsite.

He said it's unnatural.

He was right.

Every time.

That's not in the textbook.

That's not in the BIM model.

That's wisdom.

And wisdom takes time.

But here's the thing, you absolute champion of misplaced ambition—

We don't have time anymore.

The decagon waits for no one.

Jordan Peterson never actually said that.

But I think he would've if he'd ever had to replace hydraulic hoses in February.

I mailed him the idea.

Haven't heard back.

Yet.

THE DECAGON OF CAREER OPPORTUNITIES (WITH A MONSTER ON SIDE SEVEN)

Let me walk you through the decagon.

• Side One: You start on the tools. You're an apprentice. You don't know anything. You get sent for the wire stretcher. You laugh because you think it's a joke. It's not a joke. You just don't know where it is.

• Side Two: You become a journeyman. You actually know things now. You can build things. You can also fix things. You can also pretend to fix things so that people think you're busy. This is a useful skill.

• Side Three: You become a foreman. You are now responsible for other humans. This is terrifying. You were not prepared for this. You were barely prepared for Side Two.

• Side Four: You become a superintendent. You are now responsible for the entire job. You stop sleeping. Your marriage suffers. You learn to love the 4:00 AM email.

• Side Five: You move into project management. You start using spreadsheets. You realize that spreadsheets are actually a form of witchcraft. You embrace it.

• Side Six: You discover technology. You are given a tablet. You are told to "embrace digital workflows." You don't understand what that means. You nod anyway. This is the right move.

• Side Seven: THE MONSTER. Digital Integration. You now have to know how to use BIM, VDC, Procore, PlanGrid, Navisworks, Bluebeam, and whatever new platform the executives bought because they went to a conference in Vegas and got excited. NONE OF THEM TALK TO EACH OTHER. You spend your days clicking buttons and praying. This is where careers go to die. Every couple of weeks, the monster demands a sacrifice. Usually it's a safety intern. Sometimes it's the only guy who knows how the server works. We don't ask why. We simply update the org chart.

• Side Eight: You become a technology specialist. You've survived the monster. You are now the person who explains to everyone else why their tablet isn't working. You are blamed for everything. You accept this because you are paid slightly more now. Also, the monster respects you. This is terrifying.

• Side Nine: You move into leadership. You are now responsible for both the people AND the technology. You have no idea what you're doing. Nobody does. Everyone is pretending. This is called "executive presence."

• Side Ten: You retire. You look back at your career. You realize it wasn't a decagon at all. It was a circle. You just kept going around and around, learning new things, losing old things, and eventually, you ended up exactly where you started. But with a better pension.

After three years I finally know what BIM means.

I still call it BUD.

Jordan Peterson talks about "setting your house in order before you criticize the world."

Well, I set my house in order.

My hard hat is organized.

My vest is clean.

My truck has a backup backup coffee mug.

And the world?

The world is still a decagon with a monster on Side Seven.

But I'm okay with that.

Because I confronted the dragon.

Turns out it was a Komatsu electrician named Steve.

Nice fellow once you got past the yelling.

LEADERSHIP IS EVOLVING (INTO SOMETHING WEIRD)

The experts say leadership is changing.

And they're right.

It used to be that leaders yelled.

Now they send polite emails.

It used to be that leaders pointed and told you where to stand.

Now they share their screen and tell you where to click.

It's not worse.

It's just different.

And if you can't handle different—

Well, Jordan Peterson says "life is suffering."

But you know what else life is?

Life is showing up on a Monday morning to a jobsite that is already behind schedule, with a client who is already angry, with a foreman who already quit, with a software platform that just updated itself and now looks completely different, and still finding a way to laugh about it.

That's leadership.

That's construction.

And that's why you should never, ever trust an architect who wears sneakers.

If Jordan Peterson ever visited a jobsite, he'd explain why the concrete pump is actually an archetype.

I'd listen.

I don't know what he'd be talking about.

But I'd listen.

Because that's what a good operator does.

He listens.

Then he moves the concrete pump so the rebar guys can get through.

MY ACTUAL ADVICE (WHICH YOU WILL ALSO IGNORE)

The experts say you should gain practical experience, build your network, and stay curious.

They're not wrong, the beautiful simpletons.

But here's my actual advice:

Show up on time. Ask questions. Admit when you don't know something. Never, ever, ever delete an email. Keep a backup of your backup. Learn the software better than the person who taught you. Treat every person on the jobsite with respect, even the ones who don't deserve it. Especially the ones who don't deserve it. When you see the monster on Side Seven, don't run. Bring it a coffee. Ask it what it needs. It'll probably say "proper integration protocols." Then it'll promote your intern to Digital Transformation Lead. Nobody ever sees them again.

Jordan Peterson says "pursue what is meaningful, not what is expedient."

Well, I pursued what was meaningful.

That's why I became a heavy equipment operator.

Also, I was seventeen and thought loaders looked cool.

That's why I learned the technology.

That's why I show up every day and do the work.

And sometimes, the meaningful thing is also expedient.

Because the project is behind schedule.

And the client is angry.

And the concrete truck is already backing in.

So you pursue what is meaningful.

And you hope the expedient thing works out.

And for the women in construction?

Listen, you absolute warriors.

This industry was not built for you.

The stairs are too steep. The handholds are too slippery. The men are sometimes idiots. The technology is sometimes baffling. The monster on Side Seven doesn't care about your gender. It treats everyone equally badly.

But you're still climbing.

And the view from the top?

It's incredible.

You can see the whole decagon.

You can see the monster on Side Seven.

You can see the foreman who told you that "women don't belong on jobsites" and now you're his supervisor.

That's not just a career.

That's justice.

That's poetry.

That's the kind of thing Jordan Peterson would write a really long book about.

But he won't.

Because he hasn't had the chance to explain excavators using Jungian symbolism yet.

But maybe someday.

I'm still waiting on that letter.

Now if you'll excuse me—

I need to find the wire stretcher.

It's Side Four, I think.

Or Side Eight.

I can't remember.

The decagon is confusing, bud.

Godspeed.

And remember:

A wrong answer delivered in four seconds beats the right answer delivered in five.

Also, the coffee in the trailer is terrible.

Make your own.

Clean your room.

Confront the dragon.

Stand up straight.

Bring a backup backup coffee mug.

And don't trust the electrician.

Or the monster.

Or Steve, honestly.

Steve seems nice.

He's not.

Canadian Joe is a proud member of the International Union of Operating Engineers, a certified operator of heavy equipment, and the only man to successfully quote Jordan Peterson while parallel parking a 980M loader. He does not have a LinkedIn profile. He does not want one. He is not licensed to practice anything, but he has been certified in the CLEAN YOUR ROOM Method™: Coffee. Lobsters. Excellence. Accountability. Naps. He has read 12 Rules for Life twelve times. Once by accident. Eleven times on purpose. He maintains a reserved parking spot for Dr. Peterson at every jobsite. Dr. Peterson has never used it. Canadian Joe believes Dr. Peterson would make an excellent crane signalman, despite no evidence whatsoever. He is still waiting for that letter. Any day now. The monster is also waiting. The monster is always waiting. Steve says the monster isn't real. Steve also works in Digital Integration. Draw your own conclusions.