Twenty-Five Hours a Day

I’ve worked with many good men over the years, and one of them was Thomas Ali. He was a superstar, and I loved him like a brother.

While working for a large civil contracting company, we were busy with civil works at a gold mine located in the Free State. One of those proper jobs contractors love, with lots of dust, many cubes of concrete, plenty of overtime, tight schedules, and occasional mining politics. Often, we would rock up before sunrise and finish long after the Free State koppies turned black.

Thomas was my gang boss. He was honest as the day is long, always the first to arrive, and the last to leave. He never raised his voice, never complained, and somehow always smiled, even during a concrete pour at 2 in the morning. And not many people had a sense of humour during the witching hour, when everyone else was half-dead and mine supervisors were dead-grumpy.

We’d just pulled off a particularly stressful section of the job, which took us nearly two days with no proper sleep and very little food. Everyone was finished, poegaai, moertoe.

When Thomas brought me his job card, I saw he’d written he had worked 25 hours the day before.
So I said, “But Thomas, why 25 hours? There are only 24 in a day.”
And Thomas flashed his big, honest smile and said: “I worked right through my lunch hour, boss Frikkie.”

We both burst out laughing. Even if the mine captain hadn’t insisted, I still would have paid him the 25 hours without blinking.

Hard work doesn’t always come with a lot of noise. Sometimes it just looks like a man covered in dust, smiling while everyone else is cursing, and doing more than what’s required, simply because it’s the right thing to do.

Believe me, your customers will notice, and sometimes that’s a lot more valuable than an extra hour.

Chat soon,
Frikkie