I always wanted to make things. It didn’t matter what. Crafts, sewing, drawing, sawing, sanding, building, jewelry making… all of it has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. Once I got to choose and elective in high school, I stayed in that mindset.

Until I didn’t.

When I was fourteen, I went to trade school. The class took a tour of the school to learn a little about the courses that were offered. I’d already decided I wanted to weld. As soon as I stepped into the shop, I was 100% sure it was where I wanted to be.

The smell. The tools. The mess. The idea you could make anything you wanted to make. It was perfect.

But I was quickly talked out of it and took finance instead. I’ve always regretted not standing up for myself on this. My post “Regretting Not Following My Dreams” will dig a little deeper into this. Stay tuned for it.

It was December 2019. I was twenty-seven and fed up. I’d worked several jobs and none of them were satisfying. At the time, I was working as a night shift correctional officer in meth county and didn’t see a future in it. I got a taste of law enforcement and soon realized it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. One morning after working my 6pm to 6am shift, I drove to the local fabrication shop and asked for a job. I told the boss that I saw online where they were looking for a helper and I wanted it and could start ASAP. I took a tour with him, met the lead men and a few welders. I felt at home. Everything felt like it was falling into place. He said to come back in a few days with my application after I’ve thought about it. I guess he wanted to see if I was actually willing to work.

I did. I came back two days later with my application and made it very clear I wanted to be there.

He took some convincing but I got the job. It wasn’t glamorous. I wasn’t welding and didn’t do much helping. I was mostly sweeping, cleaning up garbage, and taking out scrap. But I was there. I was working my way up.

I made sure to get the shop as clean as possible as early as possible so I could practice welding. I’d watch the welders and get piles of scrap to practice on. It didn’t take long to get the hang of it. I practiced flux core and tig.

Then one day, they decided it was time to take some practice tests. I thought I was going to have a stroke. They put me with one of the best welders in the shop and we worked on beveling the plates, We tacking them, welded them, then gouged the back. Once I knew what to expect, I took the test.

I’m pretty sure that was the longest day of my life. Every pass takes a significant time to cool. The plate was only a half inch thick and you could only do one pass at a time. Each pass took about fourty-five minutes to an hour to cool. Basically, if you could touch it comfortably with your hand, it was cool enough to put another pass on. Like I said, longest day of my life.

A few days later the results came back on the x-ray of my test.

In March of 2020, I got my first Weld stamp. It was a number two.

I cried. It was the moment I’d been wanting since I was fourteen and I made it happen on the first try! Within a week, I was put on my first weld job. It was five caged ladders. I was to wrap all the corners and fill in the rungs going through the flat bar and grind them flush. The QC manager said it was some of the best work he’d ever seen and sure enough, he told the supervisor.

I soon told my supervisors that I wanted to learn to fit. A few days later, I watching and learning from one of the best guys in the shop and doing the tacking for him.

The excitement was short-lived.

You’d think that after getting the stamp I’d be welding.
Boy, was I wrong. After the ladder job, I was still helping and cleaning. I was also doing pressure tests on the vessels and helping sandblast and paint them. Though that was fun, it isn’t what I signed up for. Weeks went by and I still wasn’t welding. I’d made a few beads here and there, but it wasn’t consistent.

I watched young man after young man get hired. I watched my dream get stomped on by teenagers. Not just teenagers. Male teenagers that didn’t know a thing about fitting being hired to be taught to fit. Most could hardly weld and were getting paid more than I was getting paid.

What? How as this even right? I’d voiced so many times that I wanted this. That I’d work for it. I DID work for it. What else did I have to do to prove myself to these men?

I was finally put on a job with a guy that was learning to fit. It was a thirty-two inch vessel that was maybe six feet long with a handful of nozzles and saddles. He was fitting, I was helping, and we were both welding it. Every nozzle was to be full-penetration and have a specific radius on the inside. I made it happen. The head was to be ground flush on the inside, I made it happen. What happened after the job was done in two weeks? I swept.

One day as I was sweeping, the vice president came to me and said, “I see you’re on the broom again!” I guess he was trying to make a joke. I replied, “Yeah but I don’t see any men doing it. Why is that? I passed my test just like everyone else here so why am I the one with the broom.” It was October by this time. He made sure to let me know that if I thought I was being discriminated against that I was wrong and if my supervisor had something for me to weld, I’d be welding it. I asked, “Why does everyone else have something to weld except me then?”

I walked out.

A few days later, my supervisor drove up to me on the golf cart and asked if I was okay. I told him I wasn’t and he asked why. I rode with him in the cart around the shop for a few minutes to discuss what was wrong and…

I blew up. I told him it wasn’t right that I’d came into the shop and had proven myself over and over and people were being hired to do what they promised I could learn to do yet I was still sweeping and taking out scrap. That’s when he said, “Well I’ve discussed it with the leads and we don’t think a woman needs to be swinging a hammer. “

I jumped off the golf cart as he was driving it, grabbed my tool box, and left. I never went back.

I found out after quitting this job that I’d developed carpal tunnel and tendinitis from sweeping and lifting heavy scrap metal. I was only able to weld for another year before it developed into debilitating pain.

But all hope was not lost. Stay tuned for “Being a Woman in the Trades Part 2.”