Being a roughneck in the Alberta oilpatch in the '70s was a job without a lot of benefits in those early days.
As discussed in a previous tale, even heat seemed to be a scarce commodity. There were no orientations or safety tickets required. A strong body willing to work and not ask too many questions seemed to the pre-eminent job requirements.
My first job as a roughneck had me travelling from the flatlands of eastern Alberta to the slopes of the Rocky Mountains.
As we were responsible for our own clothing and safety gear I hadn’t brought any rain gear because it was the middle of winter and I wasn’t expecting rain for a while. I also wasn’t expecting to get soaked daily in crude oil and have to wear clothes that never properly dried or cleaned. I learned after 12 hours of pulling rods with no rain gear that Alberta crude soaked deep down into the skin.
We had been working at one location for a number of weeks staying at the same hotel. We would get off shift and head to our rooms for a shower that never seemed to get all the crude off or get me properly warmed up. The hotel manager came to me one day and told me that they were going to start giving me the sheets I had in my room instead of new clean ones. They couldn’t get the crude out of them but they had washed them. I told him I couldn’t get it out of skin either even after 45 minutes of washing. It was a mutually agreeable solution.
At one point we were going onto long change (days off) and I was back in Red Deer where I shared an apartment with an old schoolmate. There was a cabaret at the college and I, a young Alberta oilfield worker flush with cash, thought that I should attend and try out my dancing shoes.
It was a fine evening and as I wandered up to the bar to get a last beer a young college lass came up beside me and commented on the great tan I had. She politely inquired if I was a skier. I was feeling quite happy that I had attracted her interest and told her that I wasn’t a skier, but was working as a roughneck and that was actually oil soaked into my skin and not a tan. You would be correct if you surmised I walked home alone that night. Who knew being a roughneck could limit a fella’s dance card.
Although I eventually got the crude out of my skin it still flows in my soul.
Paul Hoffman is a retired oil and gas worker now living out his new dreams in Innisfail.
