If you get the chance to talk to an old folks that worked through the depression they'll tell you stories about hand shoveling ten fifteen yards of sand and or rock a day for next to nothing while being proud to have a job.
We ended up mixing twenty yards today.
It was a good day. No one fainted. No one quit. And I didn't see any evidence of hard feelings either.
In fact I had to back off the pace of the guys feeding the mixers to keep from wearing out the guys in the hole. I did this spontaneous water breaks and breaking their rhythm.
Once everyone realized where I was coming from the testosterone levels settled down a bit and the competition slowed. After all, four men working you're going to have at least sixteen competitions going on semitaneously.
One of the things I did to make it easier on the guys feeding the mixer was to move the mini-hoe in between them and keep a pile of freshly turned mix for them to handle. It's easier to load a mixer when the pile is at a certain height and the mix is of a certain rate of compaction. (almost none, compaction)
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