Every week somebody asks how to get into tower work. The recruiting pitches will tell you about the view and the paycheck. Here's the rest of it — the parts you find out in the first year.
How people actually get in
Most hands start with no tower experience at all. Companies hire green and train, because there aren't enough experienced climbers to go around. What gets you hired is less about a resume and more about signals you'll last: you show up on time, you're in decent shape, you can pass a drug test, and you don't quit when it's 95 degrees. Certifications help — an authorized climber/rescue course, OSHA 10, first aid/CPR — and some companies put you through them in your first weeks. A clean driver's license matters more than people expect; crews live in trucks.
The travel is the job
This is the one that ends most first years. Tower work is wherever the towers are, which is usually not where you live. Weeks on the road, hotel rooms, per diem, a different state every month. Some people are built for it — no rent, money banking up, seeing the country. If you have reasons to be home every night, be honest with yourself about that before you take the offer, not three months in.
About the fear
Everybody is scared the first time. Everybody. The hands who've been doing it for fifteen years didn't stop being scared — they turned it into respect: for the height, the gear, the weather, and the checklist. The one to worry about is the guy who isn't scared. Comfort comes with repetitions; it usually takes weeks of climbs before your body stops arguing with you on the ladder. That's normal, and any decent crew knows it.
What the first year actually looks like
You will spend more time on the ground than you expected — running the drop zone, prepping steel, sorting hardware, learning why every stupid-looking rule exists. Ground work isn't hazing; it's the curriculum. You learn rigging from the bottom up, literally. The hands who make it treat every ground day as a climbing lesson.
What separates year-two climbers
Ask foremen what makes them keep a green hand and the answers are boring on purpose: takes care of the gear without being told. Asks questions instead of guessing. Doesn't rush transitions. Watches the veterans instead of their phone. Says "I don't know how to do that yet" out loud. None of it is about being fearless or strong — it's about being someone the crew doesn't have to worry about at 250 feet.
Is it worth it?
Pay varies a lot by region, company, and discipline, and it climbs with your skills — a certified, experienced hand who can run a crew is worth real money in this market, and the BEAD broadband build-out has the whole industry short on people. But nobody stays for the money alone. The ones who stay talk about the same things: the crew, the sunrise from 300 feet, and being able to point at a tower and say "I built that." You'll know by the end of year one which kind you are.
Altitude & Iron Co. makes apparel for the crews who build the network — designed by people who respect the trade. If you're starting your first year, welcome to it.