Oil Field Trash

Monday morning 5:25 am. I haven’t rolled out of bed at 5:30 to show up for a job in years. It’s cold out. I don’t know exactly how cold. The wind is gusting up to 35 mph, everything is ice. This sucks.

I pull on my steel toe boots. It’s been 17 years since I wore work boots for a job. The wife has made me a lunch. It’s been 9 years since she’s done that.

Drive to the office, I leave early, can’t be late on the first day. Everyone else is late. I’m not. The HR guy issues me flame retardant coveralls, safety glasses, hard hat, and a gas monitor. Meet the lead man, head to the truck, he wants to know what I used to do for a living.

I told him about my last job in very general terms. I remember back and talk about jobs I had in school: being a shop rat for an automobile company, working construction, the fencing company, restaurant work. Those things I busted my butt doing so I could go to work at 9, in a nice warm office. The efforts I made so I wouldn’t have to work for a car company or some other POS job to make a buck are wasted now. I didn’t let on about being a professional. I don’t say squat about going to college, or grad school. Those things won’t help on this job. I left them off my application. No one needs to know about them now.

Oil field companies will hire newbie’s if they’re petroleum engineers, ignorant laborers or Texans. They don’t hire guys without industry experience; who are taking a step backwards on the career ladder in hopes of getting a foot in the door, and for health benefits in hopes their wife can stay home. I know. I’ve been applying for over 10 months to this company and several like it.

They do seam to cotton to Texans. They like Texans because most of the bosses are Texans and because you can work a Texan almost as hard as Mexican before they curl up and die. I’m not an engineer or from Texas.

Man is it cold out. Radio says coldest day of the year so far. Before leaving the house I start a fire. The boy is in his room and getting fussy. No reason to bother the wife. Check the diaper, change it, put the little guy back into his sleeper and kiss his head. He smiles, coos and lays on daddy's shoulder, sound asleep. All is well, daddy will take care of whatever needs to be done.

I can out work ten Texans.