Typhoon week at the fab: the city stops, the fab does not

We had our first strong typhoon of the season last week. Some colleagues abroad asked me "do you get the day off?" and the answer is complicated, so I want to write about it from the inside.

I cannot say anything about my company, the tools, the yields or the customers, so please do not ask. I will only write about the people.

How a typhoon day works here

When a typhoon is coming, each city and county government decides in the evening whether tomorrow is a typhoon day off (颱風假) for work and school. Everyone waits for the announcement, refreshing the news. Children pray for it. Parents pray against it, because if school is closed and work is open, somebody has to watch the kids.

For most office workers in Hsinchu, a typhoon day means staying home, instant noodles, watching the rain go sideways. For the fab, it does not mean anything. A fab cannot stop. If it stops, restarting is very expensive and very slow, and some wafers in the middle of processing cannot wait. So the fab keeps running, and the people who keep it running must be inside.

What we do

• Before the typhoon arrives, the shift that will be on duty during the worst part comes in early, sometimes the night before, and does not go home. There are rooms and the cafeteria keeps running. Some people sleep on the floor of the break room anyway, how to say, out of habit.
• Shifts are extended. A 12-hour shift becomes something longer, because the next shift cannot safely drive in. The roads near the river close.
• Everyone watches the power and the water very carefully. I will not say more than that.
• Nobody complains much while it is happening. Everyone complains a lot afterwards, at the night market, with beer.

My part

This time I was on the inside for 31 hours. My wife was at home with our daughter, who is six. School was closed and my wife's office was closed, so it was okay.

The typhoon two years ago was different. Her office was open, our daughter went to her grandmother, and my wife drove there in the rain. I was very worry and could not call, because my phone stays in a locker during shift. When I came out after 30 hours there were 14 missed calls. All of them were "we arrived safely", "she is eating", "she is sleeping", "she drew you a picture". That picture is on our fridge.

This time my daughter called me on the cafeteria phone at dinner time to tell me the wind took a neighbour's plant pot and it flew "like a bird". She was very excited. I was very tired. It was the best phone call of my month.

What I think about

Every time there is news from abroad about our industry, people talk about chips like they are oil, like they come out of the ground. They come out of people. People who sleep on the break room floor during a typhoon and miss their daughter's phone calls. I am not complaining. I chose this job, it pays well, and I am proud of the work. But when someone far away talks about our island like a chess board, I think about the 14 missed calls.

The weather is clear now. The rice fields near the highway are flat on one side, like someone combed them. Already few years I have seen this after every typhoon. It still makes me feel something.