Working in a Sawmill

One of my college majors was Parks and Recreation.  I figured that forest ranger was a job that was right down my alley.  I enjoyed spending time outdoors and that ranger hat would probably look pretty good on me.  I did an internet search to figure out which universities offered this kind of program, and the closest one that popped up was Frostburg State University, in western Maryland.  They had a Parks and Rec major, with an adventure sports emphasis.  Whaaaaaattt!  I was so there.  So, I got the necessary paperwork done, packed up my 1988 Honda Accord, and headed to Frostburg.

All throughout my illustrious college career, I had to work to help pay my way.  Jobs in western Maryland and Pennsylvania were hard to come by at this time.  I inquired around to a bunch of places and kept coming up empty.  I even tried the Bath and Body Works at the local mall, but that was mostly because it smelled so good in there.  Having spent time in New Jersey growing up, I was familiar with hanging out at the mall.  So I ended up spending a lot of time there.  My class schedule had breaks in the middle of the day, so at one point I think I had seen every movie that the small theater had to offer.  Yep, it was me and the retired old ladies watching Drew Barrymore in Everafter at 2 in the afternoon on Tuesday.  Anyway, my job prospects had narrowed to fast food.  I was running out of cash.

The people I was staying with knew that I had been looking for work.  One night at dinner, they had an offer for me.  They owned a sawmill, and they needed someone to sweep up after the mill closed down every night.  I jumped on it because I really couldn’t picture myself asking anyone if they wanted fries with anything.  The next week they brought me in for orientation, which involved explaining how the various machines in the mill could all kill me in different ways if I wasn’t careful.  My job at the mill was to clean up the sawdust and wood scraps so that the next day they could create more sawdust and wood scraps.  I would come in just before closing and start sweeping.  About a half hour after I started, everyone else would leave.  So then I was alone in the mill.  Once I was sure that everyone was gone, I would walk out through the yard and move my car down from the main lot to right outside the door of the mill.  Sweeping up in the mill after dark was one thing, but walking through the yard in the dark was something entirely different.  I’ve watched enough movies to know that deranged killers would just love a lumber yard.  The main mill building was L shaped,  the biggest part of it being about the size of a football field.  Each night I would start in the upper part of the main building, where I would sweep all the debris off of the platforms into a trough that ran the length of the floor.

The only picture I have of the mill.

Being alone in the mill was creepy.  The railroad tracks weren’t far, and I just knew that I was going to get killed by a hobo.  It would probably be a hobo with a wooden leg, and he’d kill me with saw, or an axe, or a splitting maul, or some other lumber related tool.  He would be angry about losing his leg in a mill accident and there would be a tense chase through out the mill.  One of those chases where even though I was running, the dude with the peg leg was always right behind me.  It took about two to three hours to sweep the whole mill and shovel everything into the trough, all while looking over my shoulder every five seconds.  When I finished, I had to turn on the industrial strength chipper/blower.  The whole trough would vibrate to move the sawdust into that and it would get blown out through a big opening in the wall and onto a huge pile outside the mill.  This process was super loud, so it would have been a perfect time for the peg legged hobo with a saw to attack.  I obviously had to be ready for this attack, so I usually took up a defensive position with something I could use to fend off the maniac that I was sure was probably waiting for this exact moment.  Every time I completed this process and turned off the machine, I silently congratulated myself.  He saw that I was ready for him, and decided that I would mess him up with that push broom.

The absolute worst part of each night was going into the electrical room and turning off the lights, and then running through the darkened building to the main door and my car.  Then I would do it all over again the next night.  My vigilance paid off, and the maniac never attacked, because he could tell that I was always ready of course.  Unfortunately, after a semester in Frostburg, I could no longer afford to stay there, so I moved on.  I just hope that the next guy who cleaned the mill was as careful as me.