On Job Frustrations

A Note: This is a continuation from my post last week. I began to write this, depressed myself, wrote the other one to cheer up, and the returned to this one to finish it. This is about the hard moments that come between the triumphs. 

My job gets harder when my voice gets silenced by (well meaning) coworkers who speak for me. My voice gets silenced usually because I don’t speak Spanish enough to completely keep up with everything.  On every rig is someone(s) who gets upset with having to repeat things even once. Many find it easier to just go around me; to ask my secondhand (who often has far less experience than me) for things, or ask my coworker to ask me for things (often relayed from Spanish to Spanish) or to just refuse to talk to me completely. When this happens it frustrates me to no end. 

Frustrates might not be the correct word. It kills me. It absolutely destroys me each and every time I receive indication that I am not competent to do my job. I love my job. And I’m good at it. I know this because I work hard at it. I am competent to do my job, in English and in Spanish. And every time I receive signals that I’m not… it hurts and I feel more silenced.

I have more than the language working for and against me.  This may be a surprise, but women are not treated equally in the oilfield. It’s a fact, a truth that no one who has been on a rig or platform anywhere in the world will debate with you.  The debate centers around whether that makes it easier or harder to be a woman in the field.  Do I always have help picking up heavy things? Yes. Do I always have a rig hand helping me do the most mundane task like measuring the drillpipe joint? Yes. Does this make my life easier? Sure. 

However, I’m still not convinced the advantages outweigh the benefits.

Everyone automatically assumes I’m not the one in charge.  I’ve had company men and technicos and rig managers walk right past me to talk to my male trainee.  If we’re working with the wench operator and my male trainee says to go in the opposite direction than I do, they listen to him.  It’s so many small slights that build up over time and is exhausting.  I get tired of fighting to be heard. I get tired of fighting to be included and acknowledged and eventually I just give up.

Recently, I worked my first job as a directional driller in the night.  I was up on the rig floor giving the driller instructions to steer.  It quickly became obvious that there was little trust in my abilities.  Of all the things they could have done, continually asking my trainee to confirm my every move was by far the most infuriating to me.

While I’ve realized on some level for a while that it would be a hard undertaking, the reality of the difficulties I faced felt overwhelming those first nights. Directional driller is typically a male job.  In fact, I’ve only met two female directional drillers. And both are only just being certified.  The fact that I’m a woman who is not fluent in Spanish will continue to haunt me. I will have it harder than those who have done this before. But I’m also becoming equally convinced that I will be able to do it and will come out stronger for the additional challenges I’m undergoing. 

I recently finished that job and moved to another one.  This rig is full of people I’ve worked with before. Everyone from the rig crew to the company man remembered me from a past rig. My reputation as someone who can do the job means that I’ve had few obstacles here. I ask for something and the driller follows my instructions without me needing to shout him down explaining why. I’m enjoying this job so much more than the last one for these simple reasons. I feel useful and competent.

It’s giving me confidence that I’ll one day get to that same point as a DD.  One day  I’ll show up at a rig and instead of having Pemex laugh at my suggestion (which turned out to be right, by the way) they’ll listen and give it consideration because I’ve proven myself to be more than just the labels they give me.  It’s a long road to that point. I have no doubt I’ll have other rigs that make me want to give up and curl in a little ball in my trailer and scream. I’m also confident that I have strength enough to get through those bad jobs and on to the good ones.