Transferable Skills

I am a die-hard advocate and believer in the Canadian oil patch. 

One of the most common complaints, or ‘down sides’ of this industry is the misconception of transferable skills. I had a conversation with a very good girlfriend of mine just last week, that made me ponder (yet again) the life skills that are learnt through this industry that I think sometimes get overlooked. 

I’ve known a few people in recent years that are completely disgruntled with their chosen career. Either they have a degree that they don’t use, are in a field that they don’t use their degree in, or feel completely unappreciated in their chosen line of work. Now I’m not saying getting a post-secondary education is a waste of time or money by any means. In fact, I wish I had a post-secondary education of my own. However, one of the ‘skills’ I have learnt in the oil industry is that nothing is forever and it is always ok to start over.

We have cultivated a culture in the western world that places so much value on structure and security that I find most people are afraid of change. The only constant in this world is change!

Most of my friends have job security in a pension, health care, well-paying salary, steady paycheque, etc., and so they feel stuck in this world that they feel they just can’t leave. Plus, I would argue that there has to be some sort of pressure or stigma that would come from family and friends, maybe even themselves, as to the very thought of leaving a career that they have invested so much time and money into would be such a faux pas. Common complaints I hear, “I feel so overwhelmed”, “my work-load is too big”, “I have too much on my plate”, “I feel underappreciated”, etc. Or vis versa, “my job is so boring”, “I’m not feeling stimulated” etc. We spend about a third of our adult lives at work, and god only knows how many hours we sit and stress about work related matters outside of work. I couldn’t fathom staying at a job where I uttered any one of the above statements.

Now in the oil industry, everything is volatile. You’re told on the phone by the office that you’re heading to this rig, in this city, to work this position, for x number of days; this is the tool push’s number. Rarely, if ever does it actually work out like that. You very-well will start on that rig and “it has lots of work”, and “you have a full-time spot here”, only for the rig to shut down a week later. Again, you call the office, because you’ve only worked two weeks and you’re 1000km’s from home. They send you to another rig, another city, a new crew, etc.

And each time you ask yourself these questions, How do I find the rig? Is it camp or non-camp? If non-camp, where am I going to stay? Hotel? Room for rent? Apartment? What am I going to eat? Am I going to cook? What is the rig like? Is the tool push a dick? Are the boys going to like me? Questions like that come with uncertainty, nerves, but they also, over time, build confidence and problem-solving skills. Sometimes you find yourself asking those questions two, or sometimes three times a month. It can be stressful, and at times can be overwhelming. 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but to me they have become invaluable life skills.  

I’ll be the first one to agree and admit, that humans are creatures of habit. Mom says I have ‘Cadillac taste’ and that I love to ‘spread out’.  Which it true, I enjoy my space, everything has its spot. I enjoy the comforts of home. I have been reflecting on my time working the rigs, weighing the pros and cons, what I liked and what I didn’t, what I will miss and what I won’t. One of the things that came to me during this thought process was how comfortable I have become being uncomfortable. How comfortable I’ve become trying new things. This really came to the forefront the other day, during this conversation with a girlfriend of mine. As long as I’ve known her, she has always expressed an alarming, let’s call it, discomfort, with her job. She is one of a few I know in this boat, but for her especially, she ticks off all of the aforementioned discomforts with a ‘secure job’. Overwhelmed, underappreciated, etc. She has and does express her concerns with management, it’s not like she is a total pushover, but when does enough become enough? I would have left long ago, no questions asked; even if I had my masters…

But wait, if I had my masters, I would have spent a lot more time in school, a lot more time in this secure job, which may or may not be all I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t have the exposure to the volatility of trying to find my next paycheque, place to live, working and making ‘new friends’ with all kinds of different guys. Not just men mind you, fucking rig hands. Hard mother fuckers. 

So you see, some of my friends have ‘really great careers’ with a pension and health benefits and job security; you know, all the bells and whistles. While some of us are rig hands, labeled and judged, for various reasons; one of them being our ‘lack of transferable skills’. I just have to smile and grin to myself because every night of my rigging career, I’ve gone to bed happy.

I mean this in no disrespect, these are just my observations.