This is the journal of my experiences and thoughts. |
I started my new career as an oil field worker around 3 weeks ago. I’m getting ready to go to my permanent post down south of Corpus Christi (400 miles closer than my last post out by Pecos, TX), and I will definitely be more prepared. Last time I didn’t take a coat, a rain suit, a hardhat, a blanket, soft drinks, or nutritious food. I was filling in for an employee who had knee surgery, at the last minute so I wasn’t sent the instructions on what to bring, I just received the directions to the site over the phone and took off. My mother-in-law had advised me to spend more money on my boots, but I didn’t have enough extra money lying around to pick up a pair of $149 boots. I bought $29 lace up boots. HUGE mistake! We use oil based mud in the hole to keep any natural gas from escaping, and it gets everywhere. My laces were so saturated with the mud, after a few days they wouldn’t stay tied. The worst part was that while everyone else had boots designed for this kind of work, I tended to look like I was ice skating. I slid around on the mud covered metal deck constantly. It wasn’t safe to simply walk in those boots, so I would have to slide my feet, much to the amusement of the rest of my crew (good natured humor). I didn’t have a hardhat, so the Tool Pusher (foreman) loaned me a red-orange visitor’s hard hat. This earned my first oil field nickname, “Mater.” As in “Tomato” (my crew was from either Louisiana or Mississippi, and had incredibly thick accents). The maintenance guy loaned me his coat since it snowed while I was there, and they loaned and later gave me a blanket. The guys really look out for each other. You have to have the attitude that you are going to take care of yourself and your crew, or someone will get hurt. It’s amazing how much everyone looks out for each other. One more reason I’m glad I left the retail life behind me. Everyone was always trying to put a knife in someone else’s back, or creating factions or cliques like they never left high school. Sometimes you have to move on. |