Jake had been on the crew for six months. Good kid. Eager. Asked good questions during tailboards. His crew foreman, Marcus, had fifteen years on the line. Solid reputation. Good safety record. The kind of guy who could rig a pole in his sleep.

Five-man crew. Marcus as foreman, three journeymen linemen, and Jake as apprentice. They were setting new poles on a distribution circuit. Standard replacement job. Circuit was de-energized.

One of the journeymen, Davis, was walking Jake through pole testing. First pole, Davis did it right. Took the hammer. Tapped the base. Listened for the sound. Solid. Got the auger. Dug down below grade and drilled. Checked for rot. Clean wood. "That's how you know it's good to climb."

Jake watched. Learned.

Second pole, Davis ran the same process. Hammer test. Dig. Drill. Check. "See? Every pole gets tested before anyone goes up or we change strain. No shortcuts."

Third pole, Davis walked up with the hammer. Tapped it once at the base. Looked at the pole. Looked at Jake. "This one's the same vintage as the last two. Looks solid. We're good."

No dig. No drill. Just work.

Jake watched.

Three weeks later, different section of line. Same crew. Marcus sent Jake and another lineman to prep the next structure while he and Davis finished the first. Jake grabbed the hammer. Walked to the pole. Tapped it once at the base. Sounded fine. He looked at the other lineman. "Looks like the same age as the last few. Should be good."

The lineman nodded. Started staging hardware.

Jake geared up. Started his climb.

Ten feet up, the pole shifted. Not much. Just enough to feel wrong. Jake froze. Called down. "Pole's moving."

Marcus heard it. Looked back. "Get down. Now."

Jake descended. Slow. Controlled. The pole groaned under the movement. When his feet hit the ground, Marcus was already there.

He grabbed the hammer. Tapped the base. Hollow sound. He looked at Jake. "You test this?"

Jake hesitated. "I hit it with the hammer. Sounded okay."

"You dig it? Drill it?"

Jake's face said everything.

Marcus dug down. Less than a foot. The wood below grade was rotted through. The pole was holding by a fraction of its original strength. If Jake had put any real strain on it, if he changed strain in any way, it would have snapped.

Marcus stood. Looked at the pole. Looked at Jake. "Who taught you to skip the test?"

Jake didn't want to say it. But he did. "Davis said if the poles are the same age and look solid, we don't need to drill every one."

Marcus's jaw tightened.

Davis didn't think anyone was watching. He wasn't being reckless. He was efficient. The poles looked the same. Same age. Same treatment. He'd been doing this long enough to "know" what a solid pole looked and sounded like from the surface. He cut the full test because he figured it was repetitive. But Jake didn't have Davis's fifteen years of context. Jake just had what he saw. And what he saw was this: the experienced guy skips the full test when the poles look the same. So Jake did too.

The miss wasn't the shortcut. The miss was assuming the apprentice wouldn't follow it.

You are the standard. Not the policy manual. Not the safety poster in the break room. You.

What you do when no one's checking becomes the procedure they'll follow when no one's watching them. Every pole gets tested before anyone climbs or changes strain. Hammer test at the base. Dig down and drill. Check the wood. Every pole. Every time. Same age doesn't mean same condition. If you want them to do it right, you have to do it right. They're not just watching your work. They're learning what matters.

A foreman once told me: "I don't care what the handbook says. I care what my best guy does. Because that's what everyone else will copy."

He was right. New hires don't memorize the safety manual. They watch the veteran on the crew and mirror what they see. If that veteran brushes off a step, the apprentice assumes it's optional. If that veteran stops to double-check, the apprentice learns that's the standard. Culture doesn't come from words. It comes from what you tolerate and what you model.

If you're the experienced worker, the journeyman, the crew lead, you set the tone. Here's how to make sure you're modeling the right one.

1. Assume You're Being Watched

You are. The apprentice, the new hire, the guy rotating onto your crew, they're all watching how you handle the small stuff. Do you skip the pole test when it "looks good"? Do you wave off the drill because "it's the same vintage as the last one"? They notice. They'll do the same.

2. Narrate Your Process

Don't just do the work. Explain why you're doing it that way. "I'm testing every pole even though they look identical. You can't see rot below grade. That's why we dig and drill. Every time." You're not lecturing. You're modeling and teaching at the same time. It turns repetition into mentorship.

3. Correct Yourself Out Loud

Caught yourself skipping a step? Say it. "Hold on. I almost skipped the drill on this one because it looks solid. Let me do it right." When they see you catch and correct yourself, they learn that safety isn't about perfection. It's about accountability. That's the culture you want them to carry forward.

4. Call Out the Standard You Want

If you see someone cutting a corner, address it. Not to shame them. To reset the standard. "Hey, I know we're moving fast, but let's test this pole properly. Hammer, dig, drill. I need you to do it the right way, even when I'm not here." When you reinforce the standard in real time, you're teaching them what actually matters.

5. Be the Standard You Want Them to Follow

If you want them to stop work when something feels off, you have to stop work when something feels off. If you want them to speak up, you have to speak up. If you want them to test every pole, you have to test every pole. They won't follow the manual. They'll follow you. Make sure you're worth following.

Field Leaders and Journeymen: You are the policy. Not the one written in the handbook. The one that matters. The apprentice isn't learning from the safety meeting. They're learning from how you handle the fifth pole of the day when you're tired and behind schedule. If you shortcut it, they'll shortcut it. If you hold the line, they'll hold the line. Ask yourself: if every new worker on my crew did exactly what I do, would I be proud of the safety culture that creates?

Supervisors and Safety Managers: Your job isn't just to enforce procedures. It's to make sure the veterans on your crews understand they're training the next generation every single day. If your best workers are taking shortcuts, your new workers will too. Have the conversation. Reinforce that experience doesn't give you permission to skip steps. It gives you responsibility to model them. Build a culture where the standard isn't what's written. It's what's practiced. Every time. By everyone.

Executives and Operations Leaders: Culture starts at the top, but it's reinforced in the field. If your policies say one thing and your most experienced crews do another, the policy doesn't matter. Invest in mentorship programs that pair veterans with new hires, not just for technical training, but for culture transfer. Recognize and promote the workers who model the standard, not just the ones who get the work done fast. Speed without safety creates a culture where shortcuts become the norm. The next generation will carry that forward.

Before your next job, ask yourself: If the newest person on my crew copied exactly what I'm about to do, would I be okay with that? If the answer is no, reset. Do it the way you'd want them to do it. They're watching. What you model today becomes their standard tomorrow.

Want to build a culture where every worker goes home safe?
Let's talk. Reply to this email, or visit www.leadingsafelineworkers.com to book a keynote, training, or consultation. Because safety isn't a program. It's a leadership decision.

Share this with someone who needs it.
Forward this to a foreman, a safety manager, or a crew member who's trying to lead better. Let's build this together.

Until next time,

Lito Wilkins