Tennessee Williams once wrote, “Time is the longest distance between two places.” It’s an idea both abstract and deeply personal—each step we take moves us closer to a goal that often only becomes clear in hindsight.
The year was 1987 in Clearwater, Florida, when a 23-year-old father of one made a decision that would quietly shape the course of his life. In search of a better way to provide for his family, he chose a different path—one that would later prove pivotal.
During this period of change, he encountered a man using an unfamiliar piece of equipment to apply paint on the ground—markings that signified something hidden below the surface. At the time, I had seen those strange colored lines scattered across job sites but never understood their meaning. They might as well have been written in another language.
After being hired, my education truly began. I learned the principles of utility locating, how to interpret the paper plat maps of our client, BellSouth (known today as AT&T), and how to accurately mark and document each locate request. The process was challenging at first, and I often questioned whether I would ever master it. In time, however, understanding came—slowly, but surely.
In those early days, everything was manual. Notifications arrived by fax, and the office staff would tear off each request, assigning it to the appropriate technician using a large wall-mounted grid map. Documentation required not only detailed written notes but also hand-drawn sketches. Even photography was a deliberate process—each 35mm roll of film and corresponding frame number had to be meticulously recorded.
How times have changed—or have they really? The old saying goes, “Time stands still for no man,” and how true that is. Fast forward to the present day—a world of technology, digital communication, and artificial intelligence. Yes, times are changing.
I remember using the Metro-Tech 810, a solid piece of equipment in its day. Surprisingly, it’s still in use today—just with a few upgrades. The Pipehorn, too, remains much the same, though improvements like high and low frequency settings and sturdier housing made over the years.
What has truly transformed, however, is the technology behind the work. Electromagnetic detection systems have evolved far beyond what we could have imagined back then. Today, they use GPS to not only locate but also document utilities in real time. Modern systems can overlay visual information, reduce the likelihood of mismarks, and improve accuracy in ways we once thought impossible.
Time moves on, and with it, so do the tools of the trade. Yet the heart of the work remains the same: to find what lies beneath and make sure it’s marked safely and accurately. In that sense, perhaps time hasn’t changed things as much as we think—it’s simply refined them.
Looking back now, I see that time has been both a teacher and a companion. The tools have evolved; the processes have modernized, but the purpose endures—to protect, to connect, and to ensure that what lies unseen remains safe for those who come after. The journey that began all those years ago in Clearwater wasn’t just about finding what was underground—it was about discovering the value of patience, progress, and purpose above it.