Chapter 749 - 350: The Picky Welder

Pittsburgh. EQT Group Headquarters. Executive Boardroom.

"Gentlemen, the situation is getting out of control."

The Chief Operating Officer projected an urgent report onto the large screen, a note of undisguised anxiety in his voice.

"Over the past week, all our natural gas development projects in Pennsylvania have been facing comprehensive and systematic resistance."

He clicked to the next slide.

"First, raw materials. Local steel and cement suppliers have suddenly hiked their prices across the board, by as much as 30 to 40 percent. Deliveries are also severely delayed, with the excuse that their production capacity has been monopolized by internal projects for the so-called Revival Alliance."

"We’ve tried to source materials from West Virginia and Ohio, but..." The COO sighed and displayed a few photos. "All of our trucks have been held up at the state border checkpoints."

"The Pennsylvania Transportation Department suddenly launched a special crackdown on heavy transport. Our vehicles are being impounded for all sorts of trumped-up reasons. We can’t even get a single screw through."

"It’s the same story with administrative approvals. The EPA, the Land Planning Bureau, even the Historical Preservation Office—all the bureaucrats who normally rubber-stamp our permits for a fee have suddenly become incredibly diligent. One of our gas pipelines has been put on indefinite hold because it might ’affect the habitat of a rare local species of frog.’"

A board member knocked on the table, his face a mask of impatience. "We can tolerate rising costs. As long as we can finish on time, we don’t care if it costs more. Our European orders won’t wait!"

"That’s precisely the problem, sir." The COO’s expression grew even grimmer. "We can’t finish."

"Why not?"

"Because we don’t have the manpower."

"Can’t find workers?" another board member frowned. "Then offer more money! I refuse to believe those desperate blue-collar types will turn down cash. If all else fails, bring in cheap, non-Union labor from the South!"

"We’ve tried. Neither approach is working."

The COO pulled up an intelligence report from the Union.

"The administrative blockade in Pennsylvania is too tight right now."

"The Department of Labor is requiring all out-of-state laborers to undergo credential checks, and they’re pushing for some kind of project labor agreement. Non-Union workers from other states can’t even get on a job site. The moment they show their faces, they’re hit with violations."

"As for the local workers..."

The COO pointed to a photo on the screen.

"Their wage demands are absurdly high. And it seems there’s a directive from within the Union. We’ve had our biggest recruitment spot in Pittsburgh open for three days, and it’s been completely ignored."

A board member looked at the photo on the screen.

It was the open lot in front of the Union hall in the Pittsburgh South District.

The sun beat down on the concrete, creating a harsh glare.

Dozens of folding chairs and simple tables were scattered haphazardly across the lot.

Nearly a hundred men in rough workwear, their hands covered in calluses, were gathered in small groups.

Some were playing poker, others were smoking and chatting, and a few were listening to a football game broadcast on a portable radio.

A relaxed, almost lazy, atmosphere filled the entire lot.

At the edge of the lot, a makeshift red tent looked completely out of place.

It was the emergency recruitment station set up by the EQT Natural Gas company.

Beneath the tent, two HR reps in white shirts and company badges were pacing like ants on a hot griddle.

The sign-up sheet in front of them was pristine, without a single signature.

"Alright, fellas! Listen up!"

The lead HR rep, a man named Kevin, was yelling into a cheap bullhorn, his voice already growing hoarse.

"The Delaware River pipeline project has an urgent need for two hundred advanced pipe welders! It’s a three-month contract!"

"Base pay is thirty US dollars an hour! Room and board are covered! We’re providing a shuttle!"

Thirty US dollars.

A few months ago, that number would have had these men trampling each other to get to the sign-up table, maybe even throwing punches over a single spot.

It was a wage far exceeding the market average.

But today, the workers in the lot merely glanced up before returning to their card games.

No one paid him any mind.

Wood was sitting at a table nearest the gate.

He wasn’t your average worker.

He held a 6G welding certification from the American Welding Society, the gold standard in this industry. It meant he could handle high-difficulty pipe welding at any angle and in any position.

Even during Pittsburgh’s leanest years, his annual salary had never dipped below one hundred thousand US dollars, and that was without any overtime.

He didn’t need to be here. With his level of skill, he could have been in a workshop somewhere, sipping coffee while mentoring apprentices.

But then Frank had come to him.

"Wood, we need you."

That night, Frank had sat on the threadbare sofa in his home, his tone grave.

"These Vampires at the gas company want to buy our brothers’ lives for pennies on the dollar. We need someone to take the lead and negotiate a better price."

"Why me?" Wood had hesitated. "I’m too old. I don’t want to get dragged into another confrontation like this. Besides, thirty dollars an hour is a lot of money to many of the younger guys."

"If I lead the charge and negotiations fall through, won’t they blame me for ruining their payday?"

"That’s exactly why. You’re old. You’ve got seniority, you’ve got the skills. When you talk, people listen," Frank said, staring into his eyes. "Put a younger guy in charge, and the capitalists will have him bought off and broken down in two days."

"They’ll slip the leader a little cash on the side, then herd everyone else onto the worksite like sheep. You’re the only one who can hold the line."

"Wood, think back to when you were an apprentice. Who brought you into the trade? Who gave you a piece of bread when you had nothing to eat?"