This is a guest post from Michael Denmon. Michael is a Dad who is working on being a better man, one project at a time. Catch up with his latest attempts at Dad Level Viking.
There is a caricature that many in this world have of oilfield workers: ex-cons, money-hungry capitalists, clubbers of baby seals, or simply just men who are “less than” because they didn’t do something truly meaningful with their life, like go to college. To be fair, some oilfield workers do share a few of those traits. The majority, however, seek a different identity — that of the adventurer.
How It Started
I started my journey within the oil and gas industry because I needed a job. I filled out an application and attended the interview and learned that there were two basic services that the company performed, and the differences were laid out like this:
- One meant that you were home most nights, and made a little more per hour in pay.
- The other made a little less per hour and meant that you were gone from home the majority of your days “on call.”
As a newlywed man of 20 years old, I chose to be home more. At least, my boss let me think that I chose to be home more. One of my first mentors looked at me during my first week on the job, with a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers and an inquisitive look on his face. He asked me if I was married, and he asked me if I smoked. I replied yes and no, respectively. He looked down at the ground, smiled a little, looked at me again, and said, “Give this job a few years. Those answers will change.”
Three years later, only one of those answers had changed, and I still don’t smoke to this day. The oilfield life is hard on families.
How It’s Going
What followed in my stateside oilfield adventure was working an average of 70+ hours per week over seven years, including days off and vacation days. I worked in the heat. I worked in the cold. I worked when I hurt, and I worked when I was sick. I worked on holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries. The only time I didn’t seem to work was when I most wanted to work, and that was during the slow times that are cyclical within the industry, and a given negative that the grizzled veterans had learned to accept. There were more long days of work than short days of doldrums though, that’s for sure.
Just as I was reaching the limit of what I considered acceptable for my work/life balance, I heard about the opportunity to work overseas. My interest was piqued and I started researching opportunities and requirements. As luck would have it, a recruiting company came calling and I finally had my chance to go and work in the Middle East.
The Kingdom
My only trip outside of the United States before I arrived in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was a hurricane-affected cruise to Mexico for five days. Those first weeks in the June heat of Al Khobar were culture shock, to say the least. What kept me going were the stories I heard from the others, though. The men who had worked overseas and enjoyed schedules that were unheard-of in the common world of 40-hour weeks. I collected stories like tourists collected shot glasses from various locales of rest and relaxation. I used those stories as the inspiration for what life could be.
Through it all, I worked to get ahead and fund my travels to new destinations. I understood that this job would allow me to do more with my life. Being able to choose which airline I flew with on my company-paid trips abroad meant that I was able to bank miles like nobody’s business. I, in turn, used those miles to fund hotels in Amsterdam and Bogota or a flight to Prague or Barcelona. I even used the miles to upgrade to business class on some of those return trips when having that extra space and comfort was a treat for a guy worn out from working in the heat of the desert.
World = Oyster
People sometimes say that we live in a small world. Join the oilfield, and you will truly understand how small the world can be. Bumping into people you haven’t seen in years, at 6am in a bar at Schipol Airport, became almost expected. As your network of colleagues and friends from around the globe grows, so do the opportunities to explore a life that is so very different from that of a young man in East Texas. I learned Spanish from the Colombians I worked with (well, the bad words anyway). I learned about Ramadan and what it means to be a devoted Muslim. I laughed with guys from Scotland who I could barely even understand half the time. I saw things I never dreamed of seeing. I sang karaoke for the first time in a city I had never even heard of. Paradise City by Guns N’ Roses, in case you are wondering.
I made lifelong friends and experienced the awe that comes with truly putting yourself into a new environment as I traversed this world in pursuit of new stories. I am an oilfield hand. And I am so very thankful for being just that, regardless of what impression others may have.
