Construction is ludicrous

My company is working to submit a rather large bid worth several hundred million dollars for yet another prospective oil sands project north of Ft. McMurray (about a 4 hour drive from where I live).

Given the glut of existing oil sands operations up there, projects in various stages of construction, and endless queues of investors clamoring to cash in on $100+ oil with future projects, there is no lack of activity in the north-eastern part of my province.  As more and more capital projects get started up there, there is a closer environmental eye cast on the region, making construction practices the subject of more scrutiny than just about anywhere else in North America.  To use the current lingo, the carbon footprint of the region is far too large for even the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk.

Thus, when we bid on projects, the contractors are subject to the exact same environmental regulations imposed on our client, and we have to account for adhering to these regulations in our bids.  For this newest bid, it has fallen to me to proof-read, edit, and re-write much of the technical and commercial submissions that will accompany our final price.  (I seem to have developed a reputation as a grammar faerie and overall English pedant.  Engineers, generally, suck at talking good.)

Thankfully, it looks like there might be a few humourous respites during the dry slog through the miasma of execution plans and contractual qualifications.  The Lead Estimator warned me to read the various submissions within the context of initial clients requests, some of which are rather more outlandish than even what we have become accustomed to.

We have to, for example, submit a Roadkill Mitigation Strategy.  The project site is off the main highway, and will eventually be spider-webbed with gravel access roads and plenty of contractor traffic.  I don't think they'll go for a summary of "You kill it, you grill it."

A large part of our scope of work will be the clearing and grubbing of the site.  (That just means bulldozing down the annoying trees so we can get at the oil, piling them up and burning the ones that can't be salvaged for timber.)  This particular contract insists that all work on the site must make allowances for the local aboriginal elders during their forays into the forest to harvest medicinal herbs.  Basically, don't bulldoze the Indians.

Sometimes I really like my job.

Comments

[Tasha]

Ummm, don't bulldoze the Indians, but destroy their herbs so they don't come back so you don't bulldoze them. Very clever!

[Mark]

I like how Tasha figured it out. Very nice.

That's rough, man. I can almost hear your brain gears grinding through this one. I just hope you don't get Dooced.

[Moksha Gren]

Well, I'm glad to hear that at least some of the money I'm dumping into my gas tank is flowing up to your economy. It helps dull the pain to put a face on it ;)

And what better allowances do those crazy elders want than a freshly paved road leading directly to their herbs? That's convenience, man!!

I'm glad you get to put your pedantry to good use in a venue in which your efforts will actually make a difference. Cuz, getting on to me about my errors (while funny) just won't change anything :)

[marian]

I just watched a documentary about Manitoba Hydro and how they screw over the Indians, only to discover the absolutely-not-known fact that we, down HERE, get our power from Manitoba Hydro! Gaaaa.