A flash-flood of common sense

“When you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.”

— Dale Carnegie

In Ontario during springtime, the lowly culvert becomes a hugely significant piece of infrastructure. Dry ditches can become raging creeks with mini-waterfalls in March and April; our system of plain, practical almost invisible culverts keep most roads passable, most of the time. You really only notice them when they are missing.

Since March, 2020 the sight of a hard-working culvert reminds me of one of the most insane but important phone calls I took during COVID-19.

I was working for a Member of Provincial Parliament and was returning calls to business owners frantically trying to figure out what they were, and were not, allowed to do during the first COVID lockdowns. Most of the callers were small business owners like hair salons, restaurants and retail shops.

However, this particular call was from the foreman of a crew working for the local municipality. He had a team of men and equipment assembled to replace a much-needed culvert on a Concession Road which received a lot of traffic from heavy farm equipment as well as passenger vehicles.

“What is this I am being told, construction crews are not allowed to work?” he asked gruffly. “We’re here. This has to be done. Who’s telling me to stop work??”

“Well, Bob…” I cleared my throat and started to deliver the approved Key Messages: two weeks to flatten the curve, stop the spread, protect our healthcare system, protect the elderly, etcetera, etcetera.

Bob was not buying it. “This is a big job, and all the equipment is here right now,” he argued. “None of us are sick. This has to get done.”

“I know it’s hard to understand, and we are working as fast as we can to get answers, but until we get more information these are the directives we have….” I began again with Bob, as I had with the hair salon owners and restauranteurs.

“Now, Rita,” Bob’s voice was rising in volume and alarm. “Now, Rita, this is a big pipe that’s broken on a Concession Road. It was ordered last fall; now winter is over, the ground is thawed and the piece is here.

“We are talking cave-ins, Rita, we are talking wash-outs!” his voice got louder and more agitated. “We are talking about the possibility of deaths! This job HAS TO GET DONE!”

“You know, Bob,” I conceded, “maybe there is a more recent guideline we have not yet received. Or a special ‘Culvert Installation’ memo I missed. I will go look to see what I can find. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Don’t wait on me, though….you keep working, and if I find anything else, I’ll get back to you right away.”

“You do that, Rita, thank you,” Bob said and hung up quickly. We never spoke again; I never heard of any cave-ins or washouts on that Concession Road, so I assume Bob and his crew did a good job.

***

Eventually, the hypocrisy of government response to COVID-19 helped me decide to quit that contract and get back out into the business world, where at the very least I’d be working with people who understand they have to obey the laws of physics. I have more stories from that period which range from horrifying to hilarious; I hope to share some of those soon.

Meanwhile, next time you’re counting your blessings, give a quick thanks for the practical, well-positioned culverts that make Canadian roads passable in springtime – and the professional crews who install them. They really put up with a lot, out there where the rubber meets the road.