The two parts of a crane job

But one word I am absolutely positive that no-one has ever used to describe me is "badass."

But that is just what a Los Angeles cable television producer was looking for last month - a team of badass crane operators and riggers.

As I listed my top five (sorry- I can't tell you who I chose), I pondered about the qualities of badassness. For those who don't know American English, the slang term refers to someone who is impressive and stylish. The Terminator is badass.

I think the producer has pegged a certain type of rigging crew, which, when they all roll up their sleeves and get to work, can accomplish work that no-one else on a job site can do. Even if a lift is simple, it is rarely easy. Execution of the lift on the day requires cool heads, experienced hands, teamwork and sometimes last-minute troubleshooting.

Mobile cranes have this kind of macho look too. A low growl and puff of black smoke from a big diesel engine will raise hundreds of tonnes of heavy metal.

But there is another important task that is hidden. It happens at a desk in the depot, where someone plans the right crane and the right method for the job to be done. The bigger or more badass the crane, the harder it will fall if the load is overweight or out of radius.

So maybe being badass is also about being effective. These people make that steady lift, that quick change-out, that smooth heavy haul look easy. Achieving the impossible: that is badass.

That is something that even people like me, who don't ride a Harley Davidson motorcycle, own a leather jacket, or even wear sunglasses, can still admire–and maybe even aspire to.

In other words, crane jobs come in two parts: the planning and the execution. I guess it's obvious when you think about it. My question is: whose part is the "bad" and whose is the "ass"?