I have some friends that work in the oilfield. I ask them what is it like to work offshore. Their response is often,"it's interesting". As I learnt more, I found their stories compelling. The narrative of their experience goes something like this.......
The cell phone rings annoyingly and impatiently. I look at the number to see who it is. The area code is 225: Baton Rouge, not my area code. I know who is calling and why. I let the phone ring some more. I have to put myself in the frame of mind just to take the call. In my heart of hearts, I do not want to talk. I answer anyhow, "hello". Try not to sound unwilling and disappointed I tell myself. It is one of my supervisors calling. It is time to go offshore again.
"What's up Alex?" my supervisor asks cheerfully. It is only a put-on, he knows no one really wants to hear from him. It's like your dentist calling you to offer a free root canal.
I answer,"nothing", matter-of-factly. I want him to get to the point quickly. Give me the bad news.
"Are you ready to go offshore?" he asks absurdly, almost apologetic. I do not know why they always ask like that, as if we really have a choice. In the back of my mind, I say, "if I don't go, will you still pay me?" or "no, I am herding sheep. I cannot leave them unattended". I have never touched a sheep in my life. All impulses in my body tells me to say no. They never win.
"Yes", I reply obligingly. I have bills to pay and a family to take care of. After thinking that, I respond to my supervisor more commandingly, and with conviction. Responsibility is a hell of a thing. It straightens your spine, and compels you to act.
I ask the when and where as if it is military mission. I need to know what time I need to be there, which dock or heliport I am going to, if I am going with anyone, and what is the phone number to the rig. Give me the details and less apologies. The supervisor sometimes makes it seem that you are the only engineer he could count on. If I wanted my ego stroked, they would give me a raise. The supervisor exits quickly once he knows I am committed. You have accepted a root canal but at least you are getting paid for it.
I think about my wife, I have to tell her immediately. Sometimes, she is next to me when I get the call but today I am in the mall and she is at home. I call home to tell her. This is often a strange moment between husbands, who work offshore, and wives, who stay at home. If you love your wife, it is not great news you are going offshore. You know you have to go because you have responsibilities. However, if you and your wife are fighting like cats and dogs, it's great news. You might have been begging for that supervisor to call. In fact, you have been calling him everyday begging for that root canal. It is either a root canal offshore or an annoying toothache at home. The root canal wins every time.
I do not have an annoying toothache. I tell my wife I have to go in a few days. She responds with no enthusiasm. She has gotten use to this. I met her working offshore. She says it is good thing my bag is packed already. My wife makes me repack my bag as soon as I come back from a job. I am always ready to go but grudgingly so.
She kindly says,"I'll miss you." I think I have not left yet, but to hear that brings some comfort. I chit chat some more before getting off the phone with her. I push the fact I have to go offshore out off mind, and continue shopping in the mall.
A few days pass. I will be leaving my house at 2 am the next morning to be at the heliport for 6. I have a 4 hour drive, I hate it. I have been to this heliport before so I do not need to worry about directions. It is all the way in Venice, LA, 'the end of the earth', I call it. There is nothing there. Hurricane Katrina made sure of that.
The evening before I go, we rent some movies to watch at home. I need something to relax me. I am a little tense and anxious. I get like that before I go offshore even though I have been doing this for some years now. The company of my wife and the movie helps but does not alleviate. I keep thinking, is there anything I need to do before I go? There is always something! I just cannot think of it. Or, am I trying to find a reason not to go? Ah, ha! I need to write the check for the mortgage. I cannot forget that. I tell my wife. Why did I do that?! She looks at me bemused and disapprovingly. Her eyes say, "where are we going to live, if you don't pay the mortgage?". I answer with my eyes, "not with your mother!" I leave the movie without pausing, it was not that good anyway. Running upstairs to the computer, I curse myself, how I could forget that of all things. Oh, well! I let it go.
I do not know why but everything gets thrown off track, once I hear I am going to work. It is like my reality gets fractured. Half of my mind is already seeing the greyness of rig. The other half is firmly planted in the present, at home, with the familiar. Such a discord does not lend itself well to level concentration and attentiveness.
I write the check for the mortgage. Oh yeah, I see why I go offshore. Mortgage companies are blood sucking leeches! I make sure the rest of the bills are taken cared of, they are. I do not want anymore pointed looks. I make sure there is enough money in the till for my wife, there is. She does not work.
I call family and friends to let them know I am leaving to go offshore. They often ask how I keep doing it. I tell them I do not know, by the grace of God maybe. I hate answering that question: how I keep doing it? I do not even have good answer for myself. I am sure there are other things I could do, like be a teacher, do my masters in management, maybe even become a writer. Then I think, it's the money. I know it's the money!
By this time, it is about 8 at night. I need to get some rest before I go. I have a long drive. My wife is also insisting I get some rest. Only after the ninth time of telling me this, I listen. I am going to miss my king size bed. Its immensity is inviting. I take refuge in it next to my wife. They give grown men twin size beds to sleep on offshore, its a contradiction that never wears thin. I, therefore, treasure my last night at home. I look to my wife for some attention. Sometimes, I get it. Sometimes, I don't. Most times, I do. In my bed, I think with weak resolve I am going offshore tomorrow. I accept my faith and let myself fall sleep.
In couple of hours, I will wake up and think, "shit! I am going offshore!"
The cell phone rings annoyingly and impatiently. I look at the number to see who it is. The area code is 225: Baton Rouge, not my area code. I know who is calling and why. I let the phone ring some more. I have to put myself in the frame of mind just to take the call. In my heart of hearts, I do not want to talk. I answer anyhow, "hello". Try not to sound unwilling and disappointed I tell myself. It is one of my supervisors calling. It is time to go offshore again.
"What's up Alex?" my supervisor asks cheerfully. It is only a put-on, he knows no one really wants to hear from him. It's like your dentist calling you to offer a free root canal.
I answer,"nothing", matter-of-factly. I want him to get to the point quickly. Give me the bad news.
"Are you ready to go offshore?" he asks absurdly, almost apologetic. I do not know why they always ask like that, as if we really have a choice. In the back of my mind, I say, "if I don't go, will you still pay me?" or "no, I am herding sheep. I cannot leave them unattended". I have never touched a sheep in my life. All impulses in my body tells me to say no. They never win.
"Yes", I reply obligingly. I have bills to pay and a family to take care of. After thinking that, I respond to my supervisor more commandingly, and with conviction. Responsibility is a hell of a thing. It straightens your spine, and compels you to act.
I ask the when and where as if it is military mission. I need to know what time I need to be there, which dock or heliport I am going to, if I am going with anyone, and what is the phone number to the rig. Give me the details and less apologies. The supervisor sometimes makes it seem that you are the only engineer he could count on. If I wanted my ego stroked, they would give me a raise. The supervisor exits quickly once he knows I am committed. You have accepted a root canal but at least you are getting paid for it.
I think about my wife, I have to tell her immediately. Sometimes, she is next to me when I get the call but today I am in the mall and she is at home. I call home to tell her. This is often a strange moment between husbands, who work offshore, and wives, who stay at home. If you love your wife, it is not great news you are going offshore. You know you have to go because you have responsibilities. However, if you and your wife are fighting like cats and dogs, it's great news. You might have been begging for that supervisor to call. In fact, you have been calling him everyday begging for that root canal. It is either a root canal offshore or an annoying toothache at home. The root canal wins every time.
I do not have an annoying toothache. I tell my wife I have to go in a few days. She responds with no enthusiasm. She has gotten use to this. I met her working offshore. She says it is good thing my bag is packed already. My wife makes me repack my bag as soon as I come back from a job. I am always ready to go but grudgingly so.
She kindly says,"I'll miss you." I think I have not left yet, but to hear that brings some comfort. I chit chat some more before getting off the phone with her. I push the fact I have to go offshore out off mind, and continue shopping in the mall.
A few days pass. I will be leaving my house at 2 am the next morning to be at the heliport for 6. I have a 4 hour drive, I hate it. I have been to this heliport before so I do not need to worry about directions. It is all the way in Venice, LA, 'the end of the earth', I call it. There is nothing there. Hurricane Katrina made sure of that.
The evening before I go, we rent some movies to watch at home. I need something to relax me. I am a little tense and anxious. I get like that before I go offshore even though I have been doing this for some years now. The company of my wife and the movie helps but does not alleviate. I keep thinking, is there anything I need to do before I go? There is always something! I just cannot think of it. Or, am I trying to find a reason not to go? Ah, ha! I need to write the check for the mortgage. I cannot forget that. I tell my wife. Why did I do that?! She looks at me bemused and disapprovingly. Her eyes say, "where are we going to live, if you don't pay the mortgage?". I answer with my eyes, "not with your mother!" I leave the movie without pausing, it was not that good anyway. Running upstairs to the computer, I curse myself, how I could forget that of all things. Oh, well! I let it go.
I do not know why but everything gets thrown off track, once I hear I am going to work. It is like my reality gets fractured. Half of my mind is already seeing the greyness of rig. The other half is firmly planted in the present, at home, with the familiar. Such a discord does not lend itself well to level concentration and attentiveness.
I write the check for the mortgage. Oh yeah, I see why I go offshore. Mortgage companies are blood sucking leeches! I make sure the rest of the bills are taken cared of, they are. I do not want anymore pointed looks. I make sure there is enough money in the till for my wife, there is. She does not work.
I call family and friends to let them know I am leaving to go offshore. They often ask how I keep doing it. I tell them I do not know, by the grace of God maybe. I hate answering that question: how I keep doing it? I do not even have good answer for myself. I am sure there are other things I could do, like be a teacher, do my masters in management, maybe even become a writer. Then I think, it's the money. I know it's the money!
By this time, it is about 8 at night. I need to get some rest before I go. I have a long drive. My wife is also insisting I get some rest. Only after the ninth time of telling me this, I listen. I am going to miss my king size bed. Its immensity is inviting. I take refuge in it next to my wife. They give grown men twin size beds to sleep on offshore, its a contradiction that never wears thin. I, therefore, treasure my last night at home. I look to my wife for some attention. Sometimes, I get it. Sometimes, I don't. Most times, I do. In my bed, I think with weak resolve I am going offshore tomorrow. I accept my faith and let myself fall sleep.
In couple of hours, I will wake up and think, "shit! I am going offshore!"
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