Slow Nights at the Office.

Just drilling is an interesting sensation. Everything is working; everything is transmitting as it should. Everything is being stored into the computer database as it should. Its almost like floating along on a cloud of expectation. Always expecting something to go wrong and waiting for something to happen. Sitting at the workstation in the cabin; quiet, serene, sedate and safe. The cabin is warm and snug. The white noise of the computers and other equipment rumbles on. The occasional Tannoy breaks the silence.
While we sit at our stations and wait for the next event we read, we play solitaire and we figure out what we will be paid in next months wage pack. Counting the days then subtract the tax and then the plans, the schemes and the lies we tell ourselves and each other. What will we spend all that money on? Selfishly, we are splashing out on our dreams. Allowing our fantastical imaginations to blow every penny.
Then we are rudely interrupted by our employer. Something happens. We listen to the rig as all its little divisions whir into life. Tannoys, phones and squawk boxes crackle and chirp instructions like a busy aviary at feeding time.
There are reports to update and logs to make. Everything must be done at midnight, the reporting hour. How much have we drilled and how long have we been circulating? What have the drilling parameters been for the last 24 hours? What type of drilling mud have we been using and is it in the same condition as we started? All questions need to be answered on the midnight report. What tools are there on deck? Who is coming to the rig and who has gone?
The return to calm is gradual. Cross checking data with colleagues and filing all the appropriate paper work soon surrenders to silence and inactivity. The cloud surfing continues and the air of expectation hovers around the floor.