Contribution unrecognised

When an architectural practice is given the green light on a construction project, there is often a party.? I know. I have been to a few. One of my friends is an architect. Off they go for a spot of fine dining and self-congratulation; partly because their vision will now be realised, and partly because their fee will boost the company’s coffers quite nicely.

This is a process that is repeated again when a main contractor is appointed. They will issue press releases proclaiming their selection over their major rivals before heading off to another fine dining establishment to simultaneously pat themselves on the back and quaff champagne.

Assuming their contribution is of sufficient size, specialist sub-contractors might also throw a small party to celebrate being selected to be a part of this notable scheme.

And then, when the project is at or near completion, there will be yet another party - a topping-out ceremony or a ribbon-cutting. All the high-rollers involved in the project will be there. In all likelihood, there will be a local councillor there too, basking in the reflected glory as if they had made some vital contribution to the contract (even though everyone knows that the local authority hindered the works at every possible turn).

Parties at the beginning of the project; parties at the end. But like a sandwich consisting purely of two slices of bread, there is an important element that has been overlooked. The part that brings it all together. The middle. The meat in the construction contract sandwich.

Where is the party for the men and women that actually had boots on the ground? Where is the champagne for those with dirt on their boots that actually brought this complex and demanding project to fruition? Where was their invitation when details of the topping-out ceremony went out? And while some at the top end of the business marked their contribution with several hours of fine dining and equally fine wines, those that did the real work barely had time to scarf down a bacon roll before being shouted at to get back to work.

The truth is, while the topping-out ceremony is going on, many of the workers that delivered the project will be heading for another site; or worrying if they will get the chance. Some will be scrutinising their electronic banking system, hoping and praying they get paid by the very people now slurping champagne. And some may even be nursing cuts, grazes, and injuries sustained while working to meet unreasonable deadlines not of their making.

There is no podium for them, no speech in their honour. Their names will not be etched into a commemorative plaque or printed in a glossy brochure. The foreman, if he’s lucky, might get a handshake. A site manager might get a nod of approval from a director who has barely set foot on site. But the rest? The steel fixers, the bricklayers, the labourers, the plant operators, the electricians, the scaffolders, and every other soul who sweated through long days and bitter nights?? They will walk away unseen, unheard, and unappreciated.

The irony is that when those in suits arrive for the grand opening, they will marvel at the polished floors, the seamless glass facades, the smooth concrete finishes, as if they had conjured them into existence with their vision alone. They will speak about legacy and impact, about the boldness of the design and the brilliance of the engineering, with no thought for the men and women who risked life and limb to build it. They will sip their champagne and toast each other’s success, oblivious to the hands that bled, the backs that ached, and the minds that battled exhaustion and danger to make their dream a reality.

And then, when the last glass is emptied, and the last canapé is gobbled up, they will go home. The architects will move on to their next concept. The contractors will chase their next bid. The investors will eye their next return. And the workers? They will step onto another site, another set of blueprints, another unforgiving deadline. Their work is never-ending, their effort constant, yet their recognition non-existent.

There will be no medals, no grand applause, no lines of gratitude written in history books. Just another project, another job, another cycle of toil. And when their bodies are broken from years of labour, when their hands shake from the years of strain, there will be no gilded retirement, no generous send-off. The industry that thrived on their sweat will move on without a second glance.

So raise your glass, you who sit at the top, and toast your success. But remember, the ones who truly built this won’t be there to join you. They’ll be somewhere else, boots laced, hands calloused, working tirelessly so that someone else, someday, can celebrate yet again without them.

If you enjoyed this article, you might also like our previous article “Words without meaning”.

This article was written by Mark Anthony, founder and editor of DemolitionNews.com.

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