Edit: The Take 5 is a risk assesment we must fill out before attempting anything. The Mine Manager once busted someone for using the laminator without first writing out a Take 5. And for once I'm not actually joking......
It all happened on a day not unlike today.
I was up at the look out surveying the scene around me on my usual rounds through the mine. The sun was beating heavily down on my shoulders and helmet, and a lone zebra finch alighted on the sparse limbs of one snappy gums, branches heavily laden with years of dust which belched up from the pit below.
Ah the dust, churned up by the ceaseless activity of the ever-hungry diggers and the roaring wheels of the haul trucks. It languidly hung in the air like a thick brown fog, permeating through my skin to the very core of my being. I breathed it in deeply, letting it rush to the deepest corners of my lungs.
God I love West Angelas.
I continued on with my rounds. Rounding a corner on Ramp 5 I spied in the distance a group of contractors on one of the shots. Contractors, the very word made bile rise up in my throat. I could only imagine what Ironsafe Standards they were breaching. Spitting the acid taste from my mouth, I mentally began preparing myself for the impending interaction. The warm glow I normally get right before fucking somebody over began to flush through my body like a wave. And so I reached down to kiss the Rio logo on my shirt………..
Something was wrong! I felt a slight rectangular cavity in my chest where my Take 5 normally sits in my top left pocket. My Take 5 book - It wasn’t there!!!
A cold chill passed down my spine. ‘Okay, Okay’ I thought ‘Calm down’. I reached up to my right-hand pocket. It wasn’t there either. My heart began to beat faster and a cold bead of sweat began to run across my forehead. Struggling to remain in control of the panic I could feel rising in my body, I frantically began checking my trouser pockets. Dirty used ear plugs, a Caramello Koala, my mobile (approved for work calls only of course), and a post-it note containing the number of an LV I saw doing 50 through a 40km/hr intersection. But no Take 5 book….
I could no longer contain myself and I began tearing the front cab apart looking for it. A million thoughts began rushing through my head. My Take 5 for driving in the pit, My Take 5 for inspecting stockpiles, prestarting an LV, entering a shot, walking on uneven ground. Gone, they were all gone. My Pit Permit - what if someone wanted to see it! What if conditions changed, I didn’t even have a Take 5 to amend.My mind worked overtime going over the myriad of different situations with minor risks which I could no longer identify or sort into different energy types. And then I remembered. My Take 5 book, clear as day I could see it there. Sitting on the corner of my 5 S’s desk atop a pile of notifications I’d planned to laminate and stick up in my room.....
Earlier that day I’d been educating one of the graduates on how every conceivable danger faced in ones working life can be covered within a set of 13 tick boxes. He didn’t believe me. Fool….
In my anger I’d forgotten to take it with me. I was overwhelmed by fear, my last, my only line of defence against the dangers of the mine (aside from administration controls) was gone. Man against mine. It was all just too much. Holding my knees up to my chest, I sat in the back seat rocking back and forth mumbling incoherently. My mind was swimming and tears streamed down my face. The last thing I remember seeing was those blasted contractors working 47m away from a drill rig without first establishing positive communication. God, were they mocking me.......?
A lazy fly buzzed through the cab and landed on my cheek. I swatted it away and slowly opened my eyes. It was so bright. Wiping the bleary mess of dust sweat and tears from my face I pulled myself up. ‘What had happened?’ I thought to myself. Had I passed out? How long had I been unconscious? Then it all came flooding back and it was all I could do to stop myself from blacking out again.
I needed assistance and I needed it now. An unsteady hand shakily began reaching for the 2-way. “Push the button, count to 3, and call mayday” I said to myself. Then, suddenly I had a thought. My cross shift had a bad habit of leaving his Take 5 book in the glove box. Countless times I had told him that a risk assessment may need to be conducted anywhere at anytime. But he never listened to me. Would his incompetence be my saving grace?
Almost frozen in anticipation, I hesitantly opened the glove box. My heart was racing at a million miles an hour. Peering in I saw what looked like a small maroon corner sticking out from under a thick wad of danger tags. Could it be? Slowly pulled them off and there it was. It gleamed so brightly it was as if Rodney Burns himself had dropped his pants and given me the brown salute. I could no longer contain myself. It was all just too overwhelming. I began to sob tears of joy and relief and had to breathe in and out of a green mining bag just to prevent myself from hyperventilating.
I opened the book and 3 filled out Take 5s fluttered down onto my lap. They hadn’t even been handed in. Shaking my head in disgust I leafed through the Risk Matrices and Environmental Incident Reporting Checklist til I found a fresh one. Thankfully, the biro I’d received for 20 years of continuous service was still in my pocket and I eagerly began writing. Time, date, description of work. Then I went to work on those tick boxes like an operator on Sodexho Pootang. Am I fit to perform the task – Fuck Yeah! Do I understand the job – nobody more so than me. Equipment – tick; safe condition – tick. Do you have an SWP – shit, do I have an SWP……I reviewed most of them and put them into the new format.
With each tick my confidence grew. The living nightmare I found myself in just a few minutes ago was fading like a distant memory, and like James Petty on his momma’s tit I began feeling that familiar blanket of security surround me once again. Filling out my 17 daily Take 5’s was usually the highlight of my day anyhow but this was something else entirely. My body felt lighter somehow, the various browns and beiges of the mine seemed so bright, so vivid. I freely admit I jizzed my pants somewhere between isolation and hot work. And I hadn’t even started on the energies.
Scarcely acknowledging the sticky mess my crotch had become I continued on. I flew through the energies like Joinsy through a triple cheeseburger with extra bacon and turned over the page. Effect the change. I rolled up sleeve where I had the Hierarchy of Controls tattooed on the inner of my forearm and continued writing.
I find there is something beautiful, almost transcendental about filling out a Take 5, as if the universe and I become one for just the briefest moment in time. That such a simple form with tick boxes can protect me from every conceivable risk is something truly cosmic.
I used to find the Effect the Change part way to short to list all my controls so while back I tried to push for the Take 5 to be printed on A3 size paper. But I since discovered splitting the simplest menial task which I do every day into 6 or 7 Take 5’s not only adequately addresses the problem, but also prolongs the pleasure. The PPE section is the easiest. When one sleeps, eats and shits in their hard hat and steel caps then little thought is required.
And then I was finished. I always feel a little spent after finishing a Take 5 and today was certainly no exception. 45 minutes later I’d finished writing another 3, almost record time, and then I was ready.
Now…….those fucking contractors.
