They changed their minds about where to stop drilling again. Surprised? I'm sure not -- the oil company's office has proved quite fickle lately. But they did choose to drill 400 feet less than they were planning yesterday, which means we'll be done drilling today. YES. I said TODAY.
I am so excited. During our pre-job meeting for this well well over two months ago, my manager said this job was expected to last 3.5 weeks and take 4 drilling runs. We're now just finishing week 7 and drilling run #8. I first arrived on this rig on the 18th of February, and I've had a total of 9 days off since then. To compare, a person who worked a regular M-F job would have had 14 weekend days since then.
All I can think about is rigging down, getting the heck out of here, finishing the End of Well Report, and then driving to my manager's office in Houston and turning in my two week's notice. I am virtually shaking with anticipation. I am so excited about leaving the oilfield and moving back north that I'm surprised I've been able to pay any attention to this well at all. I have, in fact proven a more than adequate cell manager lately. More than adequate is sufficient for me, since I am far too distracted for any superlative performance.
We have 85 more feet left. We're drilling at 10 feet an hour. I am all a-flutter I can barely contain myself. For all I know, these could be the last 85 feet I drill forever. FOR. EVER. Ah me!
Showing posts with label Cell Manager. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cell Manager. Show all posts
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Hit the ground running.... a MARATHON
I was woken up from a lovely nap on Saturday (since I was still partially stuck on night shift from a WHOLE WEEK before) by a phone call from the rig. Guess what! The helicopter that everyone said wasn't going to be scheduled -- because a). it's the weekend and b). the weather is pretty bad for helicopter flights -- was slated for a last-minute departure early Sunday morning. I had three hours to pack, clean my house, and prepare myself and the trappings of my life for my next exodus to the rig.
A 4-hr car ride later, I was dropped off at the "Lighthouse Lodge" in Venice, LA <-- for all those interested in maps, check out that link. Venice, LA is in such a spotty area it doesn't even look like it should EXIST, let alone be habitable. In an unexpected yet unsurprising note, Venice is a world-class fishing destination and the Lighthouse Lodge is marketed as a premier spot to cater to such a tourist crowd. The front desk clerks were slightly befuddled by my pajama-clad, incredibly mussed female self checking in at 11:00pm and scheduling a check-out time for 5:30am the next day. They clearly get plenty of oilfield traffic, and must have assumed that I was part of that set, but under no circumstances do I fall into the "stereotype" of oilfield personnel. No matter how greasy and unkempt, I remain an anomaly.
The early morning helicopter ride was quite hairy, and our first attempt was actually aborted when the pilot did not feel safe continuing after the first twenty minutes out to sea. A few hours in a utilitarian waiting room and one more helicopter ride later, I eventually arrived at the rig just in time for lunch. I wolfed down a quick and juicy hamburger, and headed up to our unit to see what was going on.
They were finishing the data processing from the previous run, and I helped complete it and send out the necessary logs to the client. Once that was complete, there was nothing left to do but wait for all of our tools bobbing up and down on the boat a few hundred yards away. One surprisingly deep and thorough nap later, I was back in my hard hat just as the tools were loaded onto our deck. From there it was a frenzy of preparation for the next foreseeable future.
We had to program the tools (which proved problematic when our cable to plug into the tools shorted), we had to measure them, load two 30-pound lithium battery assemblies into them, type up a few dozen forms of data, etc, etc, etc, and all within a window of roughly 7 hours. There was very little breathing room that night. My cell manager, the night hand and I all worked unceasingly until four a.m. this morning when some equipment on the rig floor malfunctioned (unrelated to us, thank heavens!) and we got a few hours to catch our respective breaths while they repaired it.
Now we are tripping in the hole, which means that they're lowering the drilling assembly in piece by piece; screwing the 90-ft long stands of drill-pipe together one at a time. And lucky for me they seem to be taking their sweet time about it. I have been left on my own to keep this popsicle stand running, as both of my coworkers have gone to bed from utter exhaustion. We're all roughly equally sleep deprived, but in a twisted sort of logic it seemed to make sense to have me be the one unlucky soul who gets to sleep last. So until our tools reach a more interesting depth, I can nap in my office chair with impunity. We've got over a mile to go -- and I have improvised a nice little footrest for my purposes.
Good night.
A 4-hr car ride later, I was dropped off at the "Lighthouse Lodge" in Venice, LA <-- for all those interested in maps, check out that link. Venice, LA is in such a spotty area it doesn't even look like it should EXIST, let alone be habitable. In an unexpected yet unsurprising note, Venice is a world-class fishing destination and the Lighthouse Lodge is marketed as a premier spot to cater to such a tourist crowd. The front desk clerks were slightly befuddled by my pajama-clad, incredibly mussed female self checking in at 11:00pm and scheduling a check-out time for 5:30am the next day. They clearly get plenty of oilfield traffic, and must have assumed that I was part of that set, but under no circumstances do I fall into the "stereotype" of oilfield personnel. No matter how greasy and unkempt, I remain an anomaly.
The early morning helicopter ride was quite hairy, and our first attempt was actually aborted when the pilot did not feel safe continuing after the first twenty minutes out to sea. A few hours in a utilitarian waiting room and one more helicopter ride later, I eventually arrived at the rig just in time for lunch. I wolfed down a quick and juicy hamburger, and headed up to our unit to see what was going on.
They were finishing the data processing from the previous run, and I helped complete it and send out the necessary logs to the client. Once that was complete, there was nothing left to do but wait for all of our tools bobbing up and down on the boat a few hundred yards away. One surprisingly deep and thorough nap later, I was back in my hard hat just as the tools were loaded onto our deck. From there it was a frenzy of preparation for the next foreseeable future.
We had to program the tools (which proved problematic when our cable to plug into the tools shorted), we had to measure them, load two 30-pound lithium battery assemblies into them, type up a few dozen forms of data, etc, etc, etc, and all within a window of roughly 7 hours. There was very little breathing room that night. My cell manager, the night hand and I all worked unceasingly until four a.m. this morning when some equipment on the rig floor malfunctioned (unrelated to us, thank heavens!) and we got a few hours to catch our respective breaths while they repaired it.
Now we are tripping in the hole, which means that they're lowering the drilling assembly in piece by piece; screwing the 90-ft long stands of drill-pipe together one at a time. And lucky for me they seem to be taking their sweet time about it. I have been left on my own to keep this popsicle stand running, as both of my coworkers have gone to bed from utter exhaustion. We're all roughly equally sleep deprived, but in a twisted sort of logic it seemed to make sense to have me be the one unlucky soul who gets to sleep last. So until our tools reach a more interesting depth, I can nap in my office chair with impunity. We've got over a mile to go -- and I have improvised a nice little footrest for my purposes.
Good night.
Friday, January 1, 2010
I hope it's not a sign of things to come
Guess what I get to do to start off the new year? Switch over to night shift! Yayyyyyy!
*crickets chirping*
Okay, so admittedly I have said in the past that I enjoy working night shift. There's something quieter about the world -- even when I have to wear earplugs to keep from going deaf on the rig floor, the job just seems a bit calmer.
But really, I'm just NOT in the mood to work night shift right now. Too bad for me, because I promised my night hand that I would break him out as day hand this week. He's ready for the promotion to Cell Manager, and he certainly deserves it. At least now I can ease off some of the onus of responsibility from my shoulders onto his -- he needs to learn how to run the job, after all!
I woke up today at the usual 4am. I sort-of worked, mostly goofed off until my night hand arrived on the helicopter at about 9am. Then we had a long talk about operations and job plans, and I went to bed at noon for the "short change", where you work six hours, get six hours off, and then work twelve hours. Some rig crews have to short change every week they're out here. I don't know how they do it.
We picked today to be my short change because our new tools haven't arrived yet, we're not going to be drilling anytime soon, and we're mostly caught up on all the backlog of paperwork, etc. So it's a low-key enough night that if I fall asleep in my chair repeatedly for hours on end, nothing will go wrong.
So, have a good night to all of you who are going to be in bed in a few hours. I hope you realize how lucky you are.
*crickets chirping*
Okay, so admittedly I have said in the past that I enjoy working night shift. There's something quieter about the world -- even when I have to wear earplugs to keep from going deaf on the rig floor, the job just seems a bit calmer.
But really, I'm just NOT in the mood to work night shift right now. Too bad for me, because I promised my night hand that I would break him out as day hand this week. He's ready for the promotion to Cell Manager, and he certainly deserves it. At least now I can ease off some of the onus of responsibility from my shoulders onto his -- he needs to learn how to run the job, after all!
I woke up today at the usual 4am. I sort-of worked, mostly goofed off until my night hand arrived on the helicopter at about 9am. Then we had a long talk about operations and job plans, and I went to bed at noon for the "short change", where you work six hours, get six hours off, and then work twelve hours. Some rig crews have to short change every week they're out here. I don't know how they do it.
We picked today to be my short change because our new tools haven't arrived yet, we're not going to be drilling anytime soon, and we're mostly caught up on all the backlog of paperwork, etc. So it's a low-key enough night that if I fall asleep in my chair repeatedly for hours on end, nothing will go wrong.
So, have a good night to all of you who are going to be in bed in a few hours. I hope you realize how lucky you are.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I'm too tired to think of a title for this one
I reached a new milestone in my career advancement. Unfortunately it's the kind of milestone that makes one want to jump overboard.
This job can be stressful at times, most especially so upon the person in charge. I have seen my cell managers go nearly cross-eyed from the stress and the sleep deprivation required by a troublesome assignment, and I always wondered if I would have the kind of commitment to take responsibility for the job that way.
Well last night it turns out I did, and now I just want to cry.
I left to take a brief nap before we picked up our tools and put them in the hole to start drilling. When I returned from my nap my night hand informed me that the entire network we had set up in our unit was down. We spent the next four hours troubleshooting it, and by the end of the night a second of our three computers had bitten the dust. Once we had the bare minimum of data processing programs running on our third and "last vestige of hope" computer, I went to bed with instructions to my night hand to wake me up when I was needed to help pick up BHA. A mere 70 minutes later at the friendly hour of 2:15am, I got the knock on my bedroom door and the next round of work began.
I've been riding waves of energy, and at my low ebbs I've snuck in a couple of cat naps in my ever-increasingly uncomfortable office chair. Pretty soon my night hand will wake up from his few hours of sleep and come out to give me relief.
The directional driller commented on my lack of sleep and as an afterthought said, "Well, this is the most critical part of the well." Right. Thanks for the reminder. Looks like I won't be leaving my post anytime soon today.
This job can be stressful at times, most especially so upon the person in charge. I have seen my cell managers go nearly cross-eyed from the stress and the sleep deprivation required by a troublesome assignment, and I always wondered if I would have the kind of commitment to take responsibility for the job that way.
Well last night it turns out I did, and now I just want to cry.
I left to take a brief nap before we picked up our tools and put them in the hole to start drilling. When I returned from my nap my night hand informed me that the entire network we had set up in our unit was down. We spent the next four hours troubleshooting it, and by the end of the night a second of our three computers had bitten the dust. Once we had the bare minimum of data processing programs running on our third and "last vestige of hope" computer, I went to bed with instructions to my night hand to wake me up when I was needed to help pick up BHA. A mere 70 minutes later at the friendly hour of 2:15am, I got the knock on my bedroom door and the next round of work began.
I've been riding waves of energy, and at my low ebbs I've snuck in a couple of cat naps in my ever-increasingly uncomfortable office chair. Pretty soon my night hand will wake up from his few hours of sleep and come out to give me relief.
The directional driller commented on my lack of sleep and as an afterthought said, "Well, this is the most critical part of the well." Right. Thanks for the reminder. Looks like I won't be leaving my post anytime soon today.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
A Few Gray Hairs
Oh the shame, the shame! It's been over a month since my last post. I have been shockingly remiss in keeping you abreast on oilfield news, and for that you have my apologies.
I returned to the Gulf of Mexico a mere five days ago, and I have quickly transitioned through all my major reasons for not posting. From the previous "not on a rig and therefore not posting" to the ever-disappointing "mired in boredom from lack of work on the rig and therefore feel like I have nothing interesting to post", after which the "far and above too busy with work to have time to post".
I arrived here with the directive to rig up all of the equipment and prepare for the first drilling run. At first I was mostly prevented from accomplishing this goal due to the fact that only one third of our equipment was actually on the rig. The rest was floating on the boats it had come out on, unable to be offloaded due to the high winds making crane activity dangerous.
So we did what we could with what we had, which mainly entailed running dozens of cables all over the surface of the rig and installing the few sensors we could. When the rest of our equipment did show up I soon regretted I had ever hoped for such a day.
There were so many problems I did not know where to start. I was overwhelmed, under-rested, and completely at a loss as to how to solve them all. Worse yet, I was in charge. I have the responsibility for this job. I have my name next to the title of "Cell Manager" in the daily reports. I am the one who has to answer for any mistakes. It was nearly enough to send me off the side of the rig and swimming the hundred miles or more to shore. I was a wreck.
But as of this morning I have somehow reached a state of equilibrium, if not success. The equipment having problems that could be solved was fixed, and the equipment with problems that could not be solved will soon be replaced. There are many things that could go wrong between now and when we begin drilling, but I can't solve problems that haven't occurred yet -- or so I tell myself. I am in the eye of the (figurative) hurricane. Once we do start drilling it will be a non-stop race to the end of this projected 40-day well. It's going to be a fast-paced frantic train-wreck of a job and I'm sure to have a few more gray hairs by the end of it. Maybe it's the rarely-seen pessimist in me, but I'm girding my loins for the worst.
Wish me luck!
I returned to the Gulf of Mexico a mere five days ago, and I have quickly transitioned through all my major reasons for not posting. From the previous "not on a rig and therefore not posting" to the ever-disappointing "mired in boredom from lack of work on the rig and therefore feel like I have nothing interesting to post", after which the "far and above too busy with work to have time to post".
I arrived here with the directive to rig up all of the equipment and prepare for the first drilling run. At first I was mostly prevented from accomplishing this goal due to the fact that only one third of our equipment was actually on the rig. The rest was floating on the boats it had come out on, unable to be offloaded due to the high winds making crane activity dangerous.
So we did what we could with what we had, which mainly entailed running dozens of cables all over the surface of the rig and installing the few sensors we could. When the rest of our equipment did show up I soon regretted I had ever hoped for such a day.
There were so many problems I did not know where to start. I was overwhelmed, under-rested, and completely at a loss as to how to solve them all. Worse yet, I was in charge. I have the responsibility for this job. I have my name next to the title of "Cell Manager" in the daily reports. I am the one who has to answer for any mistakes. It was nearly enough to send me off the side of the rig and swimming the hundred miles or more to shore. I was a wreck.
But as of this morning I have somehow reached a state of equilibrium, if not success. The equipment having problems that could be solved was fixed, and the equipment with problems that could not be solved will soon be replaced. There are many things that could go wrong between now and when we begin drilling, but I can't solve problems that haven't occurred yet -- or so I tell myself. I am in the eye of the (figurative) hurricane. Once we do start drilling it will be a non-stop race to the end of this projected 40-day well. It's going to be a fast-paced frantic train-wreck of a job and I'm sure to have a few more gray hairs by the end of it. Maybe it's the rarely-seen pessimist in me, but I'm girding my loins for the worst.
Wish me luck!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)