Jay’s Realm

The oil patch in Alberta is a place for fast money, but that money doesn’t come easy. Hours are long, work is hard, and the people are rough. But the money, the money is good. And it would be an adventure, something new for me to try I thought. It would be fun. The result wasn’t quite what I expected. I was forced to face the harsh truth that I wasn’t good enough. I was too weak.

For several years I had worked doing technical support in various roles for various companies. The last two places, the University of Alberta Students’ Union, and Telus, took five years of my life and didn’t leave me with much to show for it. I was bored and seeking not only a new challenge, but a difficult one as well. One of my friends had graduated from Petroleum Engineering and his company was desperate for field hands. The work was technical and in the field at a well site while drilling. He assured me that I’d get on just fine and it was easy to learn. I was hired at the beginning of October and run through the paces with training galore until I could be sent out into the field.

Business wasn’t as good as they anticipated so it wasn’t until the middle of November that I was sent on my first job. I was assigned to be a trainee for a guy named Vince who I had never met before. We made small talk during the seven hour drive up to the rig. I didn’t hear half of what he said. My stomach was in knots. My mind was racing. What exactly had I gotten myself into?

We were in a hurry, which it seems is always the case in the oil business, so I was assigned to the grunt work. Hauling cables, lugging tools, and pounding ground stakes. A ground stake is a metal stake one inch in diameter and six feet long. It needs to be inserted into the ground until only two inches are left at the top. The tool to do this was a twenty pound sledge.

You only have to pound the stakes in once and we were out there for two weeks. It gave me a lot of time to think and reflect. I was deeply out of shape and my body was in pain. It hurt to even lay down to sleep. I had torn a muscle in my stomach and pulled something in my back. Even with this, I hadn’t been able to do it. Of the six feet I managed maybe six inches and my lead had to do the rest. All that pain and I had nothing to show for it. Useless, weak, pathetic: these were the words that kept echoing in my mind when I thought of my performance. I wanted to quit.

But I couldn’t quit. I made a promise both to myself and my friend who found me the job that I would stick with it for at least three months. The oil patch is not an industry known for its sensitive touch and the berating I received from my lead hand left me uneasy, but I forced myself to talk to him about it. “Stop being a pussy,” is a direct quote and pretty much the thrust of his entire argument. It was more helpful advice than he intended. I decided to start working out on my own and building up my strength and stamina. Something isn’t a switch you can just flick on. It takes time.

It was a bright January morning in northern Saskatchewan. The air was still and a balmy forty below. I had been out on two other jobs since my first and still had not managed to hit my goal. But I persisted and threw everything I had into the task that day. In the end, I walked away triumphant. I had won.

Little more than three months after I had started, and less than a week after my first stake, I was laid off. The company had hired too many people and had too few jobs. I was new, so I was let go. Somewhat strange that it didn’t bother me that much. I was still riding my high. I had won. There is a good chance I will never work in the oil patch again, but because of my perseverance I can look back and know I would have made it. I had already succeeded. I can do anything so long as I have the will to try.