A.I., the Electricians and the Boom Towns of Central Washington

The sharp, spicy aroma of Buffalo wings filled the air inside Side Chicks Sport Bar, where a dozen electricians squeezed into booths, their large frames barely fitting. It was Tuesday night in East Wenatchee, Washington, and the electrical union had gathered for its “brotherhood night.” Locals and out-of-towners exchanged gossip about who was coming and going, which projects were starting, and the latest drama involving foremen.https://wordpress.com/

Sitting in a booth under a TV blaring a Seattle Mariners game were Sean Nickell, 32, and Chris Bennett, 35. They had unknowingly crossed paths at job sites across the country for years. “I only met this man about a month ago, and the parallels are downright eerie,” Bennett said with a straight face.

The two were in town to work on building data centers—massive concrete structures housing HVAC systems the size of tractor-trailers that power the artificial intelligence systems driving the tech industry’s future, and perhaps, the future of the global economy.

Electricity has always been the heart of technology, but A.I. demands more computing power—and consequently, more electrical energy—than anything that has come before. That’s why electricians are flocking to areas around the country where power is still abundant. In central Washington, they are transforming the sagebrush, erecting substations on former orchards and farmland. This cluster of counties, connected by hydropower dams along the Columbia River, is now home to hundreds of electricians. They’re chasing overtime pay and bonuses, working 60-hour weeks, earning up to $2,800 a week after taxes.

While headlines often focus on $100,000 chips and million-dollar engineers, it’s the likes of former morticians, retired football players, single mothers, two “Gandalf in overalls” types, ex-bouncers, and a traveling legend known as Big Job Bob who are physically building the A.I. infrastructure.

A.I. is emerging as an economy-altering force that will create both winners and losers. Locally, the construction boom will eventually slow, but no one knows what the new normal will look like.

Bennett, from Erin, Tennessee, a small town where an electrician mentor encouraged him to travel for better pay and opportunities, is making twice the income he would back home in central Washington. “Our whole plan is to take on big jobs like this one, work six days a week, for months, then head home,” he explained, digging into a plate of ranch chicken waffle fries.

In nearby Quincy, where data centers have been sprouting for over 15 years, rumors swirl about a local farmer who sold his land for a data center and used the profits to buy three Porsches—red, white, and blue. The agricultural town is thriving, but most residents still live below the poverty line. Despite a new high school funded largely by taxes from the data centers, four out of five students qualify for free lunch.

The area has seen a slight decrease in poverty over the last decade, but how much further that will go, and whether rising living costs will outweigh the new opportunities, remains uncertain.

In Washington state, all the work is unionized, a requirement for a tax break that has saved tech companies nearly half a billion dollars. The International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) is stretched thin, with Microsoft alone needing 2,300 electricians in the coming years. The union is training hundreds of apprentices to meet demand.

Nickell and his wife, Becca, a medical imaging technician, have been traveling full-time for six years. “We should be able to retire by 43 or 45,” he shrugged, “something like that.”

By 7:30 p.m., Side Chicks Sport Bar began to empty out, as work awaited them at dawn.

From the Ice Age to the Age of A.I.

As tumbleweeds the size of trash cans rolled across the road, state representative Alex Ybarra drove his black SUV through Quincy, a town of 8,315. His grandparents had first worked the land in the 1950s, and his mother spent decades at the local French fry factory. Ybarra left for college, but returned to work for the local utility.

“See these streets?” he pointed out, driving past the pink Mexican mercado. “Many of them are just gravel, and there are no sidewalks—none, even downtown.”

The fact that the internet’s power grid would rise from this flat, barren land traces back, in part, to the cataclysmic floods at the end of the last ice age. The warming climate caused an ice dam near Missoula, Montana, to repeatedly fail, sending torrents of water rushing through Washington and Oregon, carving narrow canyons that now provide a unique hydropower resource.

Despite the region’s poverty, a deal brokered in 1955 by a lawyer related to George Washington ensured that richer areas would fund the construction of dams, securing cheap hydropower for half a century. When that deal expired in 2005, the timing couldn’t have been better. As big tech companies began building data centers, the region was poised to offer abundant, affordable electricity.

“When the data centers came knocking for energy,” Ybarra recalled, “We told them, ‘Oh, we’ve got plenty.’”

In 2006, Washington passed its first sales tax break for data centers, which was extended in 2022. Over the years, there had been informal agreements to use union labor, but companies inevitably sought to cut costs. The union fought back, threatening to end tax exemptions if their terms weren’t met.

As data centers expanded westward from Quincy, reaching the dusty hillsides of East Wenatchee and Malaga, they tapped into the region’s hydropower transmission lines. These centers are strategically placed across counties with independent utilities, ensuring a steady supply of electricity. Already, over 50 data center buildings are in operation, employing more than 1,500 electricians.

Washington’s central region is just one of many “hot spots” for traveling electricians, who can find job postings on sites like Where2Bro.com. Local economies have benefitted greatly from the influx of data centers. In Quincy, data centers now contribute 75 percent of all tax revenue, funding everything from schools to infrastructure.

Ybarra, who once served on the school board, took me to the new high school funded by property taxes from the data centers. The school, a gleaming two-story structure with large glass windows and light wood floors, is a symbol of hope. Graduation rates are high, but only a third of students go on to college, so the school also offers trade training, including welding and wildland firefighting.

Housing Crisis and Union Jobs

The housing market, however, is another issue. The influx of workers has driven up home prices. In Douglas County, which includes East Wenatchee, the median home price increased by 18 percent in just one year. The region is facing a housing crunch, with few affordable options for the workers flooding in.

Some workers, like Jesus Zafra, 36, who met Juan Ramirez, 28, from Dallas at a data center two years ago, have been able to find affordable housing. They now share a room for $850 a month, but the rising home prices are beginning to push out long-term residents.

Zafra, who grew up picking rocks in the fields where data centers are now being built, noted the rapid changes: “Before the data centers, you could find a whole house for $600.” Now, he says, “I’m part of the problem, too, because I’m working on them.”

As the data centers continue to spread, the question on everyone’s mind is how long this building boom can last. With power supplies stretched to their limits, the hope is that new power sources, such as a potential nuclear fusion project, could extend the boom for another decade. However, the future remains uncertain as the grid approaches its maximum capacity.

For now, the electricians keep working, building the future—and perhaps helping to shape the future of the economy itself.