When 6,000 Volts Hits: A Real Story from a Transport Yard

Electricity is one of those hazards that hides in plain sight. You can’t see it, smell it, or hear it—until it makes itself known in the worst possible way. I learnt this the hard way back in 2015, when a simple morning at work turned into a near miss that could easily have ended my life.

This is the story of my 6,000-volt electric shock at a busy container yard in Melbourne’s western suburbs, what it felt like in the moment, and the lessons that every worker, manager, and business owner should take away.

The Setting: An Old Truck and a Busy Yard

At the time, I was assisting a friend by operating his truck—a somewhat aged vehicle—transporting goods to and from warehouses and docks, and making deliveries throughout Victoria. On this particular day, I rolled into a container yard that was heaving with activity. There were trucks coming and going, forklifts buzzing around, and workers under pressure to keep the freight moving.

Normally, load restraint was done in a dedicated zone, but the site office asked me to move along the fence line so another truck could be loaded. Seemed simple enough. I parked up by the Armco railing and got on with throwing straps.

The Moment Everything Changed

Load restraint isn’t complicated, but it does mean a lot of movement—heaving straps, stepping back for a clean throw, moving along the trailer. One step back was all it took.

My leg brushed against the Armco railing, and instantly my whole body lit up with pain. A bolt shot through me, forcing me to hunch over and gasp. For a split second, it felt like my body had been hijacked.

Another driver rushed over, asking if I was alright. I was shaken, head pounding, body buzzing. I’d just been belted by 6,000 volts.

What Does 6,000 Volts Actually Do?

Voltage alone doesn’t kill you—it’s the current (amps) that does the damage. Still, voltage determines how easily electricity can push through your body. At 6,000 volts, even with relatively low current, the shock is brutal.

A jolt like that can:

• Cause violent muscle contractions (leading to falls or secondary injuries).

• Trigger heart arrhythmias, or even cardiac arrest.

• Burn internal tissue without leaving external marks.

• Cause lingering neurological symptoms like headaches, fatigue, or anxiety.

I was lucky. My heart was strong enough, and the amps were low enough, that I walked away with just a headache. But the risk to anyone with heart disease, a pacemaker, or even just poor luck in that moment would’ve been far worse.

The Site Response

Shaken, I reported to the site office. They walked me inside, sat me down, gave me water—and handed me a paper incident report form. Tick the box, write what happened, and on your way.

I rang my boss to let him know. His first response wasn’t concern for my health. It was, “Are you loaded?” When I said yes, the reply was clear: “Finish the drops, then head home.”

That tells you everything about the culture. Freight first. People second.

The Drive Home and Ambulance Call

I finished the drops because that’s what you did in transport. You didn’t push back, you didn’t complain—you just got it done.

But on the drive home, reality hit. My chest was thumping, my heart racing. I pulled over on the side of the highway and rang Nurse on Call. They ran through a checklist of symptoms and then made the decision I hadn’t: they called an ambulance.

I was taken to hospital for observation. Luckily, the damage seemed limited to a headache and fatigue. The hospital reached out to the yard to ascertain the type of electricity I had come into contact with. The answer? A 6,000-volt electric fence, supposedly “low amp.”

The Root Cause

It turned out that weeks earlier, a truck had damaged the Armco railing. Nobody had repaired it. The Armco had shifted into contact with the electric fence running the yard perimeter. That morning, no one had switched off the fence.

So when I leaned back against the railing, my body became the bridge between earth and 6,000 volts.

This wasn’t an “accident.” It was a chain of ignored hazards and shortcuts:

• Damaged infrastructure left unrepaired.

• An electric fence left switched on in a work zone.

• A worker told to load outside the designated safe area.

The Aftermath: Bills and Compensation

The physical impact was only part of the story. Next came the financial fallout.

I had ambulance and hospital bills, plus two days of lost wages from my second job that weekend. I lodged a workers' compensation claim.

The response? Resistance. I was asked if the bills could just be “settled” quietly so the company’s WorkCover premium wouldn’t be affected. Translation: your health isn’t worth our insurance cost.

This was the same employer that pressured drivers on the road and rang me the day after my grandfather died, pushing me to get back behind the wheel. Compassion wasn’t in their vocabulary.

WorkSafe Victoria and the Missing Notification

As I recovered at home, the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became. I’d spent the night in hospital under observation—surely this met the threshold for a notifiable incident under Victorian OHS law?

So I contacted WorkSafe Victoria myself to ask whether any action had been taken. Their response floored me: they had no record of the incident.

A serious electric shock, caused by contact with live infrastructure in a workplace, followed by admission as an inpatient to hospital—this absolutely sits within the notifiable incident criteria. Yet the company hadn’t reported it.

A little birdy later told me that, in the days after my phone call, both WorkSafe Victoria and Victoria Police attended the site to make enquiries. I never found out what happened after that, nor did I care to. By then, I was moving into the beginning of my career in health and safety, having landed a contract role, and this was a gig simply supplementing my income while helping keep a truck on the road. I knew that this real-world brush with danger would become a reference point in my professional life. And here I am, still drawing on it years later.

Lessons From the Shock

I didn’t last much longer with that employer. But the experience etched a few lessons deep into my thinking:

1. Hazards don’t forgive neglect. Damaged Armco, live electric fences, missing repairs—ignoring them is gambling with people’s lives.

2. Safety systems need teeth. Paper forms and incident reports mean nothing if hazards aren’t eliminated at the source.

3. Leadership sets the tone. When a manager’s first question is “Are you loaded?”, you know what really matters to them. It isn’t you.

4. Electricity is no small risk. Workers need to understand how lethal even “low amp” systems can be, and businesses need strict controls around live systems in workplaces.

5. Compassion costs nothing. A glass of water and a form aren’t a duty of care. Genuine concern and action are.

6. Reporting matters. Notifiable incidents are a legal obligation, not a choice. Failure to report hides systemic risks and endangers more people.

What Should Have Happened

If we flip the script, a competent safety response would have looked like this:

• Immediate medical attention. An ambulance called on the spot, not hours later on a highway.

• Isolation of the hazard. The electric fence shut down immediately, area barricaded, and urgent repairs arranged.

• Incident investigation. Identifying root causes, not just filing paperwork.

• Support for the worker. Medical costs covered without debate, lost time respected, and no pressure to “finish the job.”

• System change. A review of how such hazards are managed, and ensuring checks prevent recurrence.

• Notification. WorkSafe Victoria informed immediately, as required by law, ensuring regulatory oversight.

Why This Still Matters

My shock was a decade ago, but the patterns remain in too many workplaces:

• Pressure to put productivity over people.

• Hazards reported but not fixed.

• Workers made to feel replaceable, not valued.

• Legal reporting duties ignored to protect reputations and premiums.

For anyone in the transport industry—or any industry—this story isn’t just mine. It’s a reminder that electricity, fatigue, poor culture, and corner-cutting are always lurking if leadership allows them.

Closing Thoughts

That 6,000-volt punch was over in less than a second, but the lessons linger. It was a close call, and I’m glad I walked away to tell the story.

I often think about how different the outcome could’ve been. If I’d had a heart condition. If the amps had been higher. If no one had come over to check on me.

Safety isn’t about luck. It’s about systems, culture, and accountability. And until businesses understand that, we’ll keep reading stories like mine—some with far worse endings.

A shocking story indeed!