Bakken Oil Boom:
Williston, North Dakota…Modern Day
Hey Peeps,
Wow. Where to begin? How ‘bout I lost my job? (Where did I put that? I know I left it
around here somewhere…) Yeah, may as well.
So, I lost my gig. Kinda saw it
coming and to be honest, it wasn’t what I needed to be doing anyway. Calling software engineer types and telling
them about the job of their dreams and then having to hear about all the
reasons why they didn’t want to make the move wasn’t going to shoot me out of
bed in the morning or keep me glued to the insta-phone messaging at night so
when I heard the news I took the blow, wondered what’s next and then gave a
sigh, a deep “Thank God!” and looked up the road.
You
know me. I’m not the suit and tie every
day kinda guy and probably my greatest flaw is I’m always wondering what’s
behind door number two. It’s why I can’t
watch TV with anybody if the remote’s in my hand. Like my buddy Blankenship used to say; “I
don’t care what’s on, I just want to know what else is on.”
But
you hit a point in life where those things catch up to you and so here I
am. 41 years in, un-employed, out of
funds and looking at the sad end of reality with options running out.
Might
make somebody think Life’s looking dismal and it’s all ‘Straight To Hell’ like
The Clash used to sing.
And
then you remember I’m an Amer-I-CAN…I’m the cat who trucked a bike across North
America just to prove a point. That even
if there’s two strikes, two outs, bottom of the ninth at least you still got
one more pitch to hit and hey, who knows, you might knock that one off the
reservation.
Yeah,
that feels a little more like it. Let’s
rip it up, let’s kick this bitch into hyper-drive and let’s just go out and
effin’ do something.
The
unemployment line wasn’t an option. I
got physically ill at the thought of having to plead my case in front of some
hefty HR type whose only job was to provide a roadblock for corporate progress
and I was getting doughy from the desk jockey lifestyle anyway. I wanted to put some action back into my game
and I wanted to go to a place of mystical mystery where the jobs were falling
off the trees, the pace was hyped and the America of old where ‘Show up, be
ready to work and let your attitude and ethic stake your claim’ counted more
than what your LinkedIn profile said you could do.
You
used to be able to find that solution at nearly every zip code in the lower 48
but this last decade of division, global war, plummeting debt and national
misdirection is beginning to pulse it’s virus into the nook and groove of every
neighborhood of Your Town, USA. A
recession is when your neighbor loses his job and a depression is when you lose
yours?
Well,
I hit mine I guess but I’m too stupid to know when I’m beat and my heart still
pumps the vitals of better days ahead.
Know
what? There is a pot o’ gold at the other end of the
rainbow and damn, man! It is for realz!
So
here’s the deal. Learn it. Oil Boom!
Bakken Oil Patch. North
Dakota. America. United States of.
I
kept hearing about it. Jobs! Jobs!
Jobs! Arby’s paying 18 bucks an
hour with a signing bonus to deep fry chicken
and fries…Wal-Mart doesn’t have shelves ‘cause they can’t keep anything in
stock so they just drop the stuff on pallets and let the hawks sweep in…Show
up, roll out the car, pick up a hammer and get after it! Work!
No time to talk, I got shit to do!
Yeah
well, it ain’t all like that. They got
shelves at the Wal-Mart but there’s so many people popping through there it
must be the only one in the world where every single check out line is running
and there are still lines eight people deep.
Arby’s doesn’t pay 18 an hour but Taco John’s will get you $15 per for
steppin’ in.
But
who’s got time for that kinda action when there’s all this other stuff to
do?
I
haven’t seen construction like this since I lived in Austin, Texas when 5,000
people a day were moving in to hit the high tech boom of 1997. Entire neighborhoods are going in with lots
already sold on the next, yet-to-be-built development over. Single bedroom studio will get you $2K deep
but don’t worry, there’s none available anyway.
Streets are stuffed with cars of people from all fifty states coming in
and creating their own job.
The
coolest thing I’ve noticed since I got here three days ago is I haven’t heard
anyone talking about politics or looking east to DC for an answer. Everyone’s too busy. Everyone you meet is the same way; “Yeah, got
here yesterday, think I got a job lined with this guy doing this…” or “Stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast, guy
in a truck had his window down, I asked if his guys were hiring. He goes; ‘Follow ME!’” Heard a guy at the table next to mine in the
library (where I’m writing this) and he’s telling his new buddy; “Worked all
weekend…29 hours- made $800. He wants me
to stay on but I found this other thing doing this.”
It’s
a spirit I haven’t seen in years.
Together. We’re all in it,
man. I finally got to the community
center to jump one of those $3 showers after a couple more days living out my
car and even there it’s the same. “Came
over from Michigan ‘cause I can make $28 bucks an hour here doing what they’d
pay me $7.45 for there.”
Dudes
just whistlin’ and saying “Yeah, me too…comin’ from St. Louis.” That was the big black dude. Talked loud and at first everyone’s like “Uhh
wait, so this is a community shower? So like we’re all gonna shower like HS
football practice?” I mean, I’ve never
been to jail but exactly what is the
etiquette when you drop the soap?
So
everyone’s a little cloaked at first, you know?
Like, none of us would be here if things were goin’ great back home but
damn! We’re all trying to make it
better, you feel me? So when I stumbled
around going down the wrong hallway trying to find to shower room, the big dude
kinda laughed. Said “It’s over there”
and pointed with a long finger.
Everyone’s
helpin’ each other out, you dig?
Every
time you end a conversation out here it’s “Good Luck!” Yeah, call me if you need something. You found anything? Yeah, these guys are looking over here. Hiring right now.
It
is wild. Wild West.
And it’s all about the oil.
American Ingenuity at it again. You know they now put a motor at the end
of a string of pipe, turn that bitch sideways and snake it seven miles before
frackin’ the rock and extracting enough crude to shoot North Dakota to #2
nationally as far as oil production goes?
That’s more than Cali. More the
Louisiana…more than Alaska…Three
years ago The United States of America imported 64% of its oil. Today?
That’s down to 42%.
You
can thank North Dakota.
I’ll
hit the oil later…that’s a story all in its own.
But
trust me on this. Don’t let anyone tell
you America has kicked it. You feelin’ down?
Feelin’ out of the mix and off your game? You should see this place then. It is for real. You get a cup of coffee at the Quick-Shop and
they aren’t even able to keep the stirring sticks in supply. There’s a little cup with a few plastic
spoons in it. Use one. Stir your Joe, replace…and Get Out Of The
Way! ‘Cause there’s another dude behind
ya and he’s got places to go!
So here it
is. North Dakota is where America is
already restarted. It is hummin’ and it
is movin’ and it is something from the story books. New!
Big! Fast!
I
went to see the Amtrak roll through yesterday since it was slow due to Labor
Day (just meant the offices weren’t open...the drill rigs do not stop…) and because I’ve always liked trains. I’ve been on Amtrak and I’ve never seen more
than a couple people getting on or off at any given stop from Kansas City to
Boston. This thing came in and there
must have been fifty people falling off of it and that many getting on. Oil guys coming back from their 14 days off,
oil guys getting on from their 14 days on…people looking for the future showing
up with a hand bag and a dream of employment…Everyone jostlin’ and moving with
that confused look of the new guy who knows he’s in the right spot but doesn’t
know much else. Who should I talk
to? Where do I stay? What is
this place?
See,
it’s out here. Way out Western North
Dakota and the only way in is by car, plane or train. The planes route you through Denver or
Minneapolis on double engine props because the runway ain’t long enough for
anything else. By car you gotta battle
with crude-humpin’ semis and an armada of diesel, double crew-cab pickups. The train comes in and it’s really like the
Old West. That light off in the distance
shines, the whistle blows and it’s like the outside world comes in for a three
minute stop on before shooting its way on to Seattle…
But
I guess that’s enough for now. Me? Yeah, I’m getting hooked up. Trying to get in at one of these Man Camps
(what’s that?) and should be good once my urine checks out and the FBI gives me
the thumbs up (“He’s Okay! Hire
Him!”)…and even there at the piss test center it’s the same. Five dudes, sitting around waiting to pee in
a cup and at first the silence is awkward and you know me, I have trouble being
quiet. Next thing I know this dude’s
showing me his i-Phone and a picture of an oil rig blowing out at
midnight. Guy died during that one.
“Yeah,
that dude out there (nodding past the doors at his buddy smokin’ a cig) was
right up there when it happened.” He
said pointing to the monkey bench near the top of the derrick some 160 feet in
the air as a huge black cloud of oily mist shot through the night sky at 2200
pounds per inch of pressure.
Wild,
Wild West…
Stay
tuned. I’ll write more.
Live Free Or Die,
Jed
