Storms, feeding frenzies and government cheese
Storms, feeding frenzies and government cheese
I was thrust back into construction in 2017 through the urging of my mentor. I had just finished a charity event in New Orleans where I donated a piece of furniture. While in New Orleans, I watched my city of Houston feel the wrath of Hurricane Harvey. As I sat and watched, thoughts of how I was going to get back home overwhelmed me. I left New Orleans and went to the place of my childhood, the farm. It was there that the “calling “ came. My uncle called me. He asked me what I was doing. I fumbled with lies that I was building furniture and consulting. He cut to the chase and challenged me. His words went like this; you know how to build, you can speak Spanish, you need to go help. Post any natural disaster, there is a span of time referred to as the quiet after the storm–this is when the best and worst of humanity comes out.
Feeding frenzies… if you have ever watched the Discovery Channel and seen the way a bait ball is attacked, you will understand the post disaster world. Storm chasers from all corners converge and begin to feed. In really big storms, there are literally billions of dollars to be made. My approach was way too analytical. I spent weeks setting up my company into becoming a government contractor so that I could work directly for FEMA. What a waste of an effort. Hurricane Katrina that hit New Orleans, for instance, was a $54 billion dollar storm, and according to my uncle, contractors way down the food chain still made millions.
After all of my analysis, I jumped in. I picked up my first project. It was 450 miles away from Houston back in Louisiana. I helped someone whose house flooded to repair a house he owned in Louisiana so that he could sell it and pay for his own house that was destroyed in Houston. I was grateful for the work, and I executed it with gusto. What I thought was going to be a 2 year feeding frenzy in Houston was over and done within less than 1 year. I missed it, or so I thought.
I learned through my failure. I learned that sometimes you have to just do it. I was too textbook. I wanted a plan, I wanted a model, and the guys that just worked and picked up trash and helped gut houses got the work. It was not all bad, though; I got really good at the software used by insurance companies. My network of contractors could not use computers, but they could build. I became the “Cajun Brasilero” and began to really learn and grow my network. I learned in the field. It was as though I was starting my career over–back on the rigs. I was loving it, and I was hooked.
My first real job was actually in construction. I was 13, and I went to work for one of my uncles who owned a flooring business. I worked all summer, 5 days a week. I earned $1.00 per hour, $5.00 per day. That summer, I made enough money to buy a wakeboard. I worked in construction every summer through my sophomore year of college. I went from residential construction to flooring installation to bridge construction and iron work. Building was in my blood. I fought building in college, though. I did not want to go to work for the “family” business as an engineer. I wanted to do my thing.
