Imponderable

Disclaimer

Due to the subject matter, reader discretion is advised.

The following novel is a fictional work that is drawn from a variety of sources and published works including personal experiences. This novel is not a documentary.

For dramatic and narrative purposes, this novel contains fictionalized events, composite and representative characters and dialogue, as well as time compression.

Any similarity to any person living or deceased, or any location existing, or any business or company existing presently or in the past is purely coincidental, and the author has no intention of defaming, insulting or insinuating any comment or criticism on any person, alive or deceased, nor company, authority or institution, existing or pre-existing.

This is purely a work of fiction for the sole purpose of entertainment and not to be misconstrued as anything but what it represents.

Jason B. McKenzie

Chapter 1

The Toyota Jeep came to a stop and parked in front of the nose of the scissor lift. Raymond and Dave opened their respective doors and slipped out onto the ground. Dave went to the back of the machine and applied the wheel chock under the rear tire while Raymond walked along the side of the scissor lift. The noise in the drift was thunderous as two men on the elevated deck of the machine were drilling holes into the roof with the air-powered stopper drills. Raymond waved his cap lamp by shaking his head side to side at the two men, and they stopped drilling immediately and waited while Raymond and Dave climbed the ladder between the cab and deck of the scissor lift and stepped onto the deck.

Kevin Blackwell and Darren Jones were rock bolters at the Crimson Lady mine and had worked here for the last two years. Both men had worked with each other for fifteen years at a number of mines in Western Canada. Today, they were bolting a development drift in the west section of the 5,300 Level. They had started this job at the beginning of the day shift and were hoping to have it done by lunchtime as their shift-boss Tiny MacLean wanted them to move up to the 4,700 Level and bolt another that was being mucked out while they were working here.

Well, lads? Raymond was looking up at the roof of the drift. How are things going today?

Raymond St. Laurent was the general manager of the Crimson Lady Mine. Raymond had taken the position over, almost four years to the date. Raymond knew every person who worked on the site, and they certainly knew who he was. Raymond was a straight shooter who dealt with people fairly but also with a firm hand. If you were doing a good job when Raymond met you, he told you. But if you were doing something wrong when he came upon you – look out! Raymond was a big man, well over six-feet tall and carried an extra twenty pounds that he could afford to lose. There was no doubt that Raymond had been in excellent physical condition when he was young as he had wide shoulders and still had large biceps and legs like a rugby player. There was also no doubt that Raymond could hold his own in an argument, which he proved time again. He was a worthy opponent in any altercation, although there was no one on this site who would test that theory. He had good technical qualifications and nearly forty years of practical experience to back that up. There was a bit of old school in him when it came to new mining methodology and equipment and, for that matter, the new personnel working in the industry: snot-nosed accountants and women, the two biggest banes of his job. He wasn’t afraid to speak out about either. He also wasn’t fond of the immigrant labour.

Things are going well, Ray, Kevin told him. We’ll get this finished up and then we’re going to move up to 4700-14C crosscut.

Put a few bolts in the wall. Dave Jansen waved his light halfway to the face of the drift. I don’t like that crack in the wall.

All four men looked at what Dave was indicating.

You’d be better scaling that down, Raymond instructed. I don’t want a big grape hanging off the wall after they blast the next round in here.

You’re probably right, Dave conceded.

Of course, I’m right. Raymond looked at the two miners. We don’t pin up loose around here, we bring it down. Right, boys?

Both miners nodded their heads in agreement.

Dave Jensen, the mine superintendent, was used to being overruled by Raymond. Dave had worked at the mine for the last five years and had transferred from the chief engineer’s position two years ago. Lately, Dave was surprised that he was still had his job because Raymond had replaced most of the senior staff since his arrival. Dave respected Raymond for his experience and his no-nonsense approach to all issues on-site but like many other people on-site, he did not like Raymond for the way he belittled nearly everyone around him. The only person on-site that Raymond confided in was Alex McKinnon, the warehouse superintendent, who Raymond had brought to the site six months after he arrived. Raymond and Alex had worked together over the last twenty years. Whenever Raymond moved to a new position and new operation, Alex would arrive within months.

OK, lads, keep working safe, Raymond told the two miners and turned to Dave. Let’s get back up to surface. I’ve got another meeting with those damn accountants.

Raymond climbed down off the scissor lift with Dave closely behind. They both got into the Toyota and when Dave went to start it up, Raymond held his hand up for him to wait.

Dave? Raymond was staring directly at him. Do you like working here? Dave was caught off-guard with the question was sat with his mouth open for a minute.

Why? Dave finally spoke. Why, uh, do you ask?

It’s a simple question, Raymond said, exhaling. Do you like working here?

Well, yes, Dave replied. I guess.

You guess?

Yes. I like working here, Dave said affirmatively.

Why?

Dave wondered where this line of questioning was going. He was almost certain that he had not done anything wrong, certainly not anything that would cause his termination. He never could figure out what angle Raymond was coming from and, certainly, this time he was bewildered by Raymond’s questions.

Why are you asking? Dave challenged.

Relax. Raymond smiled. All I’m asking is why you like working here.

Dave sat looking at Raymond. The two miners on the scissor lift realized that Dave and Raymond were not leaving the drift, and decided that they would resume the air drills again. The noise from the drills got the attention of both men in the Toyota. Raymond rolled the window up.

I like working here because of the people, mostly, Dave said apprehensively.

The people?

Yeah. The people, the conditions, the money, the security…

So? Everything, then? Raymond taunted.

Raymond, what the fuck are you trying to do?

Nothing. You like working for me? Raymond studied Dave.

Are you going to get rid of me too?

Why would I get rid of you?

You’re pissing me off. Stop answering my questions with more questions. That’s aggravating. Dave’s voice was rising.

What’s aggravating? Raymond smiled. All right, sorry. Now. Do you like working for me?

Dave composed himself. Most times.

Most times?

Yes.

When don’t you like working for me? Raymond pushed.

At times, like now, Dave snapped back.

Explain, please? Raymond calmly asked.

When you bully people!

Bully people?

Yes, Raymond! Damn it! You bully people!

I thought I brought the best out in people. Raymond was smirking now. He achieved what he had set out to do: get Dave upset.

The best in people? Are you crazy? Dave was nearly exasperated now. Nearly all the women on-site avoid you because they are terrified of you; the miners won’t talk to you because, half the time, you bite their heads off, and you’ve fired most of the department heads that were here and brought in your own cronies!

Cronies? Raymond was containing his personal entertainment now.

Yes, cronies! Guys that have worked for you before that you’ve badgered into doing everything you want and saying yes to anything that you say. Dave was nearly spitting.

Tell me how you really feel, Dave. Raymond smiled.

I don’t give a fuck! You can fire me too! Dave was turning red in the face.

Why would I fire you? Raymond said calmly.

Dave sat and stared at him, taking deep breaths. Raymond said nothing and looked through the windshield of the Toyota at the two men drilling on the deck in front of them.

Finally, Dave said. You’re intentionally trying to piss me off, aren’t you?

Yes.

Why?

Because I can.

Dave grabbed the handle to the door of the Toyota and opened it. The sound of the drills filled the cab. He jumped out onto the ground and turned to Raymond.

You can go fuck yourself, you hateful bastard! You are going to die alone! Dave shouted at him over the loud reverberation of the drills echoing in the contained drift. I’ll walk back up to surface! Prick!

The last thing Dave saw before he slammed the door of the Jeep was Raymond laughing. He stomped towards the main ramp.

Chapter 2

Dave had walked about fifteen minutes up the fifteen per cent graded ramp, muttering the whole way. He was not even cognizant of the fact that he was walking full speed up the steep incline. Now that he was away from the drift where the drillers were working, it was relatively quiet, barring the odd air leak hissing on the pipelines and drip of water from the roof of the ramp roof.

Miserable fucker! he said to himself. Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that. I can’t believe this. I don’t have to take his shit.

Lights from behind him illuminated the drifts overpowering the light from his cap lamp. Dave continued up the ramp until he reached a safety bay cutout and stepped into it to allow the vehicle to pass. He saw that it was a Toyota Jeep approaching, and the Jeep stopped once it was adjacent to where he was standing. He looked through the window of the passenger door and saw Raymond at the wheel. He stood there and ignored him. Raymond beeped the horn. Dave stood there and ignored him. Raymond reached across the seat and rolled down the window.

Dave. Get in the Jeep, Raymond shouted out to him.

No. I’ll walk up, Dave replied.

Get in the fucking Jeep. Raymond shouted back. And stop acting like a fucking woman!

Hey! You don’t have to fire me, you asshole! Dave screamed at him. Because I quit!

Relax, would you! Raymond shook his head. I’m not going to fire you. I have no intention of firing you. Now get in the Jeep.

Dave stood and looked at Raymond for a minute and considered what he was telling him. Finally, he walked to the Jeep, opened the door and got in. He closed the door and rolled up the window. Both men sat quietly as Raymond released the parking brake and steered it back up the ramp. They drove in silence for about five minutes until Raymond finally broke the silence.

Have you settled down now? Raymond asked.

Dave’s eyes burned into Raymond. What bullshit are you trying to pull?

There’s no bullshit. Raymond stopped the Jeep to let a fifty-ton production truck cross the intersection in front of them. You just learned a valuable lesson.

Lesson? What lesson? How to be a miserable prick? Dave shot back.

Raymond laughed. Yes. I might be a miserable prick, but people know that. You, on the other hand, are too nice. Nice people get taken advantage of.

I don’t get taken advantage of, Dave retaliated. I get good respect from the miners and supervisors who work for me.

Because you’re Mr. Nice Guy? Raymond was grinning.

What’s wrong with treating people with dignity and respect?

Respect is earned and dignity is a just a concept.

Dave shook his head as the Jeep came out of the mine portal into the bright sunshine. Both men squinted until their eyes adjusted to the light.

You’re a dinosaur, Ray.

Look, Dave. Raymond pulled the Jeep over to the side of the road and turned it off. The reason that I’m putting you to the test is that you are in line to be the next general manager here, and although I believe that you are technically strong, safety conscious and results oriented, I think that you are going to have to toughen up with people, so they don’t walk all over you when you do become the manager here.

Where are you going? Dave asked.

I’m not going anywhere yet, so relax. Raymond rolled the window down. But I’m not staying here forever either. I want you to be ready to take over when I do go.

When you do go, are you going to take all your cronies with you? Dave was curious.

More than likely. Raymond laughed.

Good. Dave smiled. I don’t need a bunch of Yes men clustered around me all the time.

That’s where you’re wrong, buddy. Raymond turned in his seat. As general manager, you are responsible for everything and everyone on this mine site. It’s a hell of a lot easier job to have people around you who are loyal and forthright than to be banging heads with your department heads and having to check on them all the time because you can’t depend on them or trust them to carry out their assigned duties. Why do you think the law states that the workers have to be checked on every two hours during their shifts?

To make sure that they’re safe, Dave replied.

Why? Raymond was quick to reply. Because you can’t trust them to work more than two hours by themselves without getting hurt.

That’s nonsense.

Is it? Raymond continued. Then why do we have hundreds of thousands of dollars of emergency equipment throughout every corner of the property?

In case someone does get hurt

Why do we have more accidents now than we did twenty years ago, before we had all this emergency response equipment? Raymond started. Why do we spend thousands of manhours training people over and over and over on basically the same thing, and they still get hurt?

Are you suggesting that if we eliminated the emergency response equipment and reduced the training hours for our employees, that we would reduce the frequency of the accidents at the mine? Dave was flabbergasted.

How long have you been in the mining industry?

Twenty-seven years, Dave replied.

And twenty-seven years ago, when you started mining, what kind of training did you get? Raymond posed.

Dave sat and thought about the question for a minute.

After I graduated, I went to work for a contractor for a couple years…

And what kind of training did they give you? Raymond queried.

Uhmm…Here’s the desk – there’s the headframe. Have at her.

My point exactly, Raymond quickly said. How many mines have you worked at?

Six. So far.

How many accidents have you had in twenty-seven years mining? Raymond continued.

None.

Your Honour, I rest my case, Raymond tried to conclude. Nowadays, the lawyers, and the bleeding heart liberals have the mining business completely fucked. You can’t do anything without thinking about liability. It’s a seriously risky occupation as a mine manager. Everyone is waiting until some dumb son of a bitch trips over his own feet and gets himself hurt and then everyone screams the mine manager didn’t put enough protection in for the safety of the employee.

True. The mine’s inspectors even sit back until something goes wrong, Dave reflected.

That’s right. Raymond was starting to wind up again. We hire people and expect that they have basic skills, like knowing how to walk, look, and comprehend. But once they’re hired they don’t have to know how to walk, look and comprehend. We are supposed to train them to do what is supposed to come naturally. Back in my day, if you fucked up anywhere on the basic skills, they fired you.

Now, in fairness, things aren’t the same as thirty years ago, Dave retorted.

How so?

It’s a different culture now, Dave explained. People have different lifestyles, socioeconomic demands, ambient stresses…

Bullshit! Raymond snapped back. There’s nothing different today then there was thirty or for that matter forty years ago when I started mining. Young people started working, they got married, had kids. They had to put a roof over their families, feed them and pay their bills. While they did this, they tried to enjoy life, camping, fishing, hunting, sports, so on and so on. These are the basic requirements of life.

Yes, but… Dave tried to intercede.

But, nothing! Raymond cut him off again. Our society has deteriorated to the point where it exists because of bleeding heart liberals, lawyers, and women in the workplace!

Wow, Raymond! Dave smiled. Tell me how you really feel.

You laugh. Raymond was starting to wind up. People of my generation respected the sanctimony of marriage. Now they get married, and it gets too hard, and they divorce. They buy a house that they couldn’t possibly afford, and when they can’t make the payments, they throw the keys back to the bank and blame society because they couldn’t afford a house.

The price of housing is ridiculous this day and age, Dave commented.

It is, but you buy what you can afford to pay for, Raymond exclaimed. When I bought my first house, it cost me $15,000, and I wondered how I was ever going to afford it, but I had a wife and a small baby, and I had to provide for them. I then prioritized things – mortgage, utilities, food and then whatever was left was for the luxuries, like a car, gas, holidays. It was that simple.

What’s your house worth now? Dave asked.

My house now is four times the size of my first house, Raymond told him. and worth close to a million dollars, and it’s paid for. A result of forty years hard work.

Good for you, but what about the young people starting out their lives who want to buy a house? Dave asked. They don’t have a million dollars.

True, but they don’t need a million-dollar house either, Raymond responded. But for some reason, they feel that they have to have the million-dollar house, two new vehicles in the yard, holiday to Barbados twice a year, dinner out in a restaurant every other night. Where does that come from?

Probably their parents.

Sure. Blame the parents now, Raymond was quick to come back. Everyone and everything is to blame except the young people who want everything for nothing and not have to work for it.

No. What I’m saying is that everyone in my generation grew up with very little, Dave explained. So, they tried to give their kids a better life than what they had.

I call bullshit again, Raymond responded. Everyone spoiled their kids due to guilt. People became greedy, so both parents worked and gave their kids whatever they wanted because they never gave them their time.

Do you have kids? Dave asked.

Yes. A girl and a boy.

Were they spoiled? Dave decided to pry into Raymond’s personal life.

I can honestly say that they were not spoiled, Raymond said. They worked for everything that they got. They had chores, and they got allowances. They did not get allowances when they didn’t do their chores. Both of them had part-time jobs by the time they were fifteen. And on top of that, their mother was home all the time they grew up.

Your wife never worked? Dave pushed the issue.

No. Never. Her job was to look after the children and look after me, Raymond said.

That’s very fifties, Dave stated.

Nothing fifties about it. I made enough money to cover our needs, so there was no requirement for my wife to work.

Didn’t she want anything outside her home life? Dave asked.

She was involved with the church and various charities, but she never once told me that she wanted to take a job, Raymond said.

What about your kids? Dave continued discovering Raymond’s personal side. How have they turned out?

My son and my wife were killed in a car accident ten years ago.

Oh Jesus. I’m sorry, Ray. Dave took a deep breath.

They were broad-sided by a drunk driver when they were coming back from my son’s high school basketball game, Raymond confided quietly.

That’s terrible. Dave didn’t want to say anything more.

My daughter Caroline is a treasure, Raymond picked up again. She’s a registered nurse working at the Royal Alexandria Hospital in Toronto, on the pediatric ward. She loves kids.

Sounds great. Dave could see the pride on Raymond’s face.

She’s married, too, but no kids of her own, Raymond said. They’re trying but no babies yet.

I’m sure they will have grandkids for you, Dave responded.

Yeah. Someday. Raymond smiled. I’m too young to be a grandpa anyway.

Yeah, sure. Dave chuckled.

Her husband Mike is a program director with a local television station in Toronto, Raymond told him. Nice guy.

So, you’ve been a widower for the last ten years?

No. I met another woman and married again about five years ago.

Oh. Good for you, Dave replied.

It was for a while. Raymond had a funny look on his face.

Dave decided not to pursue this topic any further, but he did sense that there was something here that Raymond was not telling him and did not want to tell him. He quickly changed the topic.

So, you don’t mind your daughter working, then? Dave asked.

Not right now. Raymond took out a notepad from his coverall pocket. I told you that they don’t have any children.

And when she does?

Then she will be a mother. Raymond was writing in the notepad. Right now she is doing an honourable woman’s profession.

As a nurse?

Yes. As a nurse. Raymond closed the notepad and slipped it back into his breast pocket.

Are there other honourable women’s professions? Dave probed.

Certainly. Raymond looked at him. Besides nurses, there are waitresses, secretaries, store clerks and the lot, you know what I mean.

I take it, you don’t get invited to speak at women’s luncheons very often, do you? Dave was trying not to smile.

I would if they asked me, Raymond said boldly.

I think that there would be tar and feathers involved when that happened. Dave was smiling now.

Why? Raymond looked surprised. "The primary purpose of women is to have children and bring them up properly. They can work until they have babies at jobs designed