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.

The Small Red Light

Phone home…..the places to do this on a rig are scarce. Most of the rig phones don’t have the ability to get an outside line. The result is 40 guys trying to call home in an evening. The offshore solution is to limit the amount of time on the phone. Most rigs there is a small sign reminding you to show a little courtesy to your fellow man by limiting your call to 10 minutes. The result of over running is a hard stare from the persons waiting in a queue to use the phone. The alternative is the small red light. 6 minutes into the call the light will illuminate to let you know you will be cut off in 1 minute, giving you 60 seconds to say you farewells. There is a reciprocal light outside the phone booth, letting all in the queue know that you are on your last minute.

Working in an Oven

Working out in the North Sea in March with expected blizzards on the way. Most normal expectations would be to arrive to a freezing cold working environment. As I walk across deck and open the door of the pressurised unit which will be work for the next 2 weeks I am greeted by a blast of heat. The temperature inside the unit is at least 80F. I quickly strip off my fleece and everyone is wondering around the unit in t-shirts.
"Is the Air Con working then?" I venture an opinion. which is immediately shot out of the sky by a volly of sharp stares frome sweaty faces.
" You're on night's. It gets a little cooler at night."
As the shift goes on the heat cools to a bearable 69F and things start to mellow. Lets hope that nothing goes wrong. That will increase the pressure in this unit as Boyles law may explain a few blown gaskets and hotter heads!

Scott Fricasse