The Help Wanted ads had an interesting item the other day from Mercy Regional Medical Center. The hospital listed an opening for an “Environmental Services Worker.” But further on in the ad, you find out that it was a posting for housekeepers. Not to be a jerk, but why the fancy title? It’s honorable work, so what’s wrong with “housekeeper?” Sign me, Private Citizen, second class.
This isn’t a case of putting a high-falutin’ title on a workday job, though it’s tempting to see it that way.
Think of post-hole diggers being called Ph.D.s or waste collectors referred to as “sanitation engineers.” But it’s an old joke and not particularly funny.
If anyone deserves our thanks and highest regard, it’s the folks who do the jobs that no one wants.
Thankfully, things are changing, with TV host Mike Rowe leading the way in celebrating “dirty jobs” and the good people who do them.
But more to the point, an environmental services worker at Mercy will be an employee of Mercy’s Environmental Services Department. It’s that simple.
Sometimes, the truthful answer is dull.
So now, we have to make up something exciting. After all, this is Action Line, where we never let small things like “facts” get in the way of a good story.
If you wanted fancy titles, the following are some local jobs that deserve embellished descriptions.
Take the mysterious pranksters who festoon the Florida Roundabout cyclists with seasonally appropriate hats and then dash off into the pre-dawn darkness. Their title: Dashing Haberdashers.
As for the knuckleheads who can’t comprehend parking-lot lines and take up multiple spaces, they are Alternative Land-Use Practitioners.
And the cyclists who blow through stop signs? Call them Physics Researchers because they prove Newton’s First Law: Every object in motion tends to remain in motion unless an external force is applied to it.
At some point, the “external force” will be a vehicle, at which time the scofflaw bike riders will prove Newton’s Third Law: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
H H H
This week’s Mea Culpa Mailbag returns to the shores of the mysterious Smelter Mountain “lakes,” with a deep dive into their history.
As you might recall, last week’s column explored why Google Maps show two ponds that aren’t there.
Thanks to loyal readers Jerry Zink, co-founder of StoneAge Waterblast Tools, and Scott White, an associate professor at Fort Lewis College’s geosciences department.
“I’m tellin’ ya’ they used to be there – honest!” writes Jerry, a lifelong resident.
“Starting in 1942, tailings ponds were constructed by Vanadium Corporation of America on the slope of Smelter Mountain facing Durango. Due to the lack of flat area available near the mill, the ponds became very tall piles. ... The mapmakers at the USGS had it right, showing ponds on the two flat-topped piles,” Jerry points out.
By 1991, millions of cubic yards of radioactive tailings were hauled away, but the ghost ponds still haunt the maps.
In the meantime, Scott did some excellent research using historical U.S. Geological Survey maps of Durango. He forwarded map images from 1898, 1907, 1924, 1954, 1963 and 2013 as well as a 1956 aerial photo.
“You can see the ponds on the 1963 USGS topographic map of the area,” Scott points out.
“Oddly enough, those tailings ponds persist onto the 2013 digital version of the USGS topographic map, although the smelter buildings are long gone. I guess our tax dollars only go so far when it comes to USGS mapping!” the earth scientist laments. “I should add that the 1963 topo map is the one that is most widely used for Durango and is sold in paper form at Gardenswartz. It’s the 1:24,000 scale Durango West topographic quadrangle.”
Email questions to actionline@durangoherald.com or mail them to Action Line, The Durango Herald, 1275 Main Ave., Durango, CO 81301. You can request anonymity if your GPS device is a compass and a view of Perins Peak.
