Released on = March 10, 2007, 12:55 am

Press Release Author = Wayne Arnold and Heather Timmons

Industry = Internet & Online

Press Release Summary = \"We\'re looking at factors like remuneration, but more
importantly we\'re looking at the softer side,\" said Russell King, who leads the
business development group at Anglo American, the London-based mining giant. \"We\'re
making sure people feel loved.\"

Press Release Body = Hawthorn,Australia. March 10, 2007--EVERY time Sue Gogilis
starts her shift driving the company truck she gives her steering wheel a good rub
with a few disinfectant wipes.

Gogilis, a 34-year-old mother of two, was a dental assistant until last May. Now she
drives a mammoth dump truck at one of Rio Tinto\'s iron ore mines, hauling 230 tonnes
of rock and dirt across the scorching Pilbara region in Australia\'s outback.

\"They need the bodies,\" she said. \"And so if there\'s a body, they don\'t care if it\'s
male or female as long as it can drive the truck.\"

From the pits of Australia to the coalfields of Wyoming, mining companies like Rio
Tinto are hunting for people to address a dire shortage of workers. A decade ago,
with prices slumping, the sense of mining as a sunset industry left it with a
workforce with grey hair under its hard hats. But these days, the industry is
struggling to meet burgeoning global demand for iron, copper, and other key
commodities.

Now, mothers like Gogilis, former math teachers, and even Detroit car workers are
being lured into mining by impressive salaries, housing, and educational benefits,
helping to transform mining from what was once a dead-end job into an avenue of
advancement.

\"We\'re looking at factors like remuneration, but more importantly we\'re looking at
the softer side,\" said Russell King, who leads the business development group at
Anglo American, the London-based mining giant. \"We\'re making sure people feel
loved.\"

Skills shortages have become a common feature of the global economy, particularly in
ageing countries. Nurses are scarce; engineers, too. What makes the mining
industry\'s shortages so severe is that the commodities boom caught it more or less
by surprise.

\"The industry was suffering a depression, and the best and brightest didn\'t join,\"
said Marcus Randolph, the chief organisation development officer at BHP Billiton,
the world\'s largest mining company.

As commodity prices languished, students pursued better-paying careers elsewhere.
Mining schools shrank. The average age of a production worker in mining crept up to
50.
Then came the China economic boom, and India\'s. The Minerals Council of Australia,
in a recent report, estimated that by 2015 Australia alone would need 70,000
employees on top of the 120,000 it has now to keep up with demand.

Mining recruiters say that industry salaries have climbed 20 per cent in the last
two years. Yet mines are so short of workers that projects are being delayed as
production costs rise.

Even the recent slide in commodities prices has failed to dent the boom.

The shortage is hastening the transformation of the industry.

\"Ten years ago, we had one of the worst industrial safety records in Australia,\"
said Mitchell Hooke, chief executive of the Minerals Council of Australia. \"Today we
are the best.\"

Yet the old image endures. \"Mining?\" said Russ Eason, who worked in Michigan\'s
auto parts industry for 30 years until he was laid off in 2005 at the age of 58.
\"That was guys with little hats and little carbide lamps on their heads walking
around with picks chipping away.\"

At a local job fair, Eason stopped at the booth of P&H Mining Equipment, which
makes the giant shovels used in mines. Workers like Eason with compatible skills
from auto factories and other industries are highly coveted by mining companies.
Eason now works for one of P&H\'s subsidiaries in Wyoming\'s coal country.

With modernisation has come increasing mechanisation. Many mining workers
nowadays need education levels and skills more common to urban white-collar
professionals.

\"You can\'t just come out of the paddock and pick up a pick and shovel and go down
in the mine,\" Hooke said.

That need for higher skills makes life even harder for mining companies that are
venturing further afield in search of ore.

Because of the voracious demand for their output, mines are kept running 24 hours
a day. Miners typically work 12-hour shifts, usually for two weeks straight,
followed by a week off. To coax miners to such remote sites, the industry has
developed what is called the fly-in, fly-out job, in which the company flies
employees to the mine and back out again when their shift is over.

That kind of schedule suits Brian Okely, a 42-year-old from Western Australia.
Okely spent 12 years as a telephone repairman until he learned that he could double
his pay in mining. In November, Okely started repairing trucks at one of Rio\'s
Pilbara mines. Best of all, he said, he gets a full week off to spend quality time
with his wife and three children. \"Family\'s more important than money,\" he said.

Still, attrition and divorce rates among miners remain high. A study last year by
Macquarie Research and the Australasian Institute of Mining found turnover among
mine workers was as high as 25 per cent. \"They work long hours and they need people
who are willing to travel a lot,\" said Bruce Elliott, who recruits for the resources
industry at Korn/Ferry in Sydney. \"Young people will do it out of university. But
then they get to a point where they say \'I don\'t want to travel now\'.\"

So companies are reaching out to young graduates like Avischen Moodley, a South
African who was planning to work for an insurance company after earning his
actuarial degree until Anglo American lured him with the promise of rotating through
three jobs on a new continent over five years.

Mining companies also offer scholarships to potential employees. Anglo American,
for example, is paying to put 1000 South Africans through universities this year.

Immigration is another solution. Australia is creating new visas for temporary
workers, enabling companies to recruit from countries like the Philippines.

Few immigrants are likely to want to settle in a place like the Pilbara, where
summer temperatures routinely rise above 46 degrees. Ultimately, many companies say,
the challenge is to train workers from communities around the mines. In the Pilbara,
that means finding workers among local Aborigines. Rio Tinto offers courses teaching
basic literacy, part of its aim to raise the Aboriginal portion of its workforce to
15 per cent.

Until it does, the company does its best to make conditions acceptable to
imported workers like Anthony Dekuyer, who left his job as a maths teacher in Perth
last year at the age of 48 to start driving a truck for Rio Tinto. While the region
may be bleak, Dekuyer\'s accommodations at the mine sound more like a desert resort.

\"It\'s quite well fitted out,\" he said. In addition to the gym and tennis courts,
there is a 25-metre pool, he said. The rooms are air-conditioned, with free phones
and internet access. Better still, Dekuyer\'s wife works for the mine, so the two fly
back and forth to work together from their home in Perth.

Women have become especially sought-after in the once macho world of mining,
particularly as truck drivers like Gogilis. Since they tend to drive the big trucks
with a gentler touch, they exert less wear and tear on the tyres, which are also in
short supply. The number of women in Rio\'s ranks has risen from just over 11 per
cent in 2000 to 15 per cent.

Rio offers working mothers flexible schedules so they can go home to their
children at night. Gogilis now alternates six days on and six days off to spend time
with her daughters, age 15 and 10.

\"I\'m setting an example that as a girl you don\'t have to do the mainstream
thing,\" she said.
Even the recent slide in commodities prices has failed to dent the boom.
The shortage is hastening the transformation of the industry.

\"Ten years ago, we had one of the worst industrial safety records in Australia,\"
said Mitchell Hooke, chief executive of the Minerals Council of Australia. \"Today we
are the best.\"
Yet the old image endures. \"Mining?\" said Russ Eason, who worked in Michigan\'s auto
parts industry for 30 years until he was laid off in 2005 at the age of 58. \"That
was guys with little hats and little carbide lamps on their heads walking around
with picks chipping away.\"

At a local job fair, Eason stopped at the booth of P&H Mining Equipment, which makes
the giant shovels used in mines. Workers like Eason with compatible skills from auto
factories and other industries are highly coveted by mining companies. Eason now
works for one of P&H\'s subsidiaries in Wyoming\'s coal country.

With modernisation has come increasing mechanisation. Many mining workers nowadays
need education levels and skills more common to urban white-collar professionals.

\"You can\'t just come out of the paddock and pick up a pick and shovel and go down in
the mine,\" Hooke said.

That need for higher skills makes life even harder for mining companies that are
venturing further afield in search of ore.

Because of the voracious demand for their output, mines are kept running 24 hours a
day. Miners typically work 12-hour shifts, usually for two weeks straight, followed
by a week off. To coax miners to such remote sites, the industry has developed what
is called the fly-in, fly-out job, in which the company flies employees to the mine
and back out again when their shift is over.
That kind of schedule suits Brian Okely, a 42-year-old from Western Australia. Okely
spent 12 years as a telephone repairman until he learned that he could double his
pay in mining. In November, Okely started repairing trucks at one of Rio\'s Pilbara
mines. Best of all, he said, he gets a full week off to spend quality time with his
wife and three children. \"Family\'s more important than money,\" he said.

Still, attrition and divorce rates among miners remain high. A study last year by
Macquarie Research and the Australasian Institute of Mining found turnover among
mine workers was as high as 25 per cent. \"They work long hours and they need people
who are willing to travel a lot,\" said Bruce Elliott, who recruits for the resources
industry at Korn/Ferry in Sydney. \"Young people will do it out of university. But
then they get to a point where they say \'I don\'t want to travel now\'.\"

So companies are reaching out to young graduates like Avischen Moodley, a South
African who was planning to work for an insurance company after earning his
actuarial degree until Anglo American lured him with the promise of rotating through
three jobs on a new continent over five years.

Mining companies also offer scholarships to potential employees. Anglo American,
for example, is paying to put 1000 South Africans through universities this year.

Immigration is another solution. Australia is creating new visas for temporary
workers, enabling companies to recruit from countries like the Philippines.

Few immigrants are likely to want to settle in a place like the Pilbara, where
summer temperatures routinely rise above 46 degrees. Ultimately, many companies say,
the challenge is to train workers from communities around the mines. In the Pilbara,
that means finding workers among local Aborigines. Rio Tinto offers courses teaching
basic literacy, part of its aim to raise the Aboriginal portion of its workforce to
15 per cent.

Until it does, the company does its best to make conditions acceptable to
imported workers like Anthony Dekuyer, who left his job as a maths teacher in Perth
last year at the age of 48 to start driving a truck for Rio Tinto. While the region
may be bleak, Dekuyer\'s accommodations at the mine sound more like a desert resort.

\"It\'s quite well fitted out,\" he said. In addition to the gym and tennis courts,
there is a 25-metre pool, he said. The rooms are air-conditioned, with free phones
and internet access. Better still, Dekuyer\'s wife works for the mine, so the two fly
back and forth to work together from their home in Perth.

Women have become especially sought-after in the once macho world of mining,
particularly as truck drivers like Gogilis. Since they tend to drive the big trucks
with a gentler touch, they exert less wear and tear on the tyres, which are also in
short supply. The number of women in Rio\'s ranks has risen from just over 11 per
cent in 2000 to 15 per cent.

Rio offers working mothers flexible schedules so they can go home to their
children at night. Gogilis now alternates six days on and six days off to spend time
with her daughters, age 15 and 10.

\"I\'m setting an example that as a girl you don\'t have to do the mainstream
thing,\" she said.
So companies are reaching out to young graduates like Avischen Moodley, a South
African who was planning to work for an insurance company after earning his
actuarial degree until Anglo American lured him with the promise of rotating through
three jobs on a new continent over five years.

Mining companies also offer scholarships to potential employees. Anglo American, for
example, is paying to put 1000 South Africans through universities this year.

Immigration is another solution. Australia is creating new visas for temporary
workers, enabling companies to recruit from countries like the Philippines.

Few immigrants are likely to want to settle in a place like the Pilbara, where
summer temperatures routinely rise above 46 degrees. Ultimately, many companies say,
the challenge is to train workers from communities around the mines. In the Pilbara,
that means finding workers among local Aborigines. Rio Tinto offers courses teaching
basic literacy, part of its aim to raise the Aboriginal portion of its workforce to
15 per cent.

Until it does, the company does its best to make conditions acceptable to imported
workers like Anthony Dekuyer, who left his job as a maths teacher in Perth last year
at the age of 48 to start driving a truck for Rio Tinto. While the region may be
bleak, Dekuyer\'s accommodations at the mine sound more like a desert resort.

\"It\'s quite well fitted out,\" he said. In addition to the gym and tennis courts,
there is a 25-metre pool, he said. The rooms are air-conditioned, with free phones
and internet access. Better still, Dekuyer\'s wife works for the mine, so the two fly
back and forth to work together from their home in Perth.

Women have become especially sought-after in the once macho world of mining,
particularly as truck drivers like Gogilis. Since they tend to drive the big trucks
with a gentler touch, they exert less wear and tear on the tyres, which are also in
short supply. The number of women in Rio\'s ranks has risen from just over 11 per
cent in 2000 to 15 per cent.

Rio offers working mothers flexible schedules so they can go home to their children
at night. Gogilis now alternates six days on and six days off to spend time with her
daughters, age 15 and 10.

\"I\'m setting an example that as a girl you don\'t have to do the mainstream thing,\"
she said.

Wayne Arnold and Heather Timmons, smh.com.au


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