A Lesson on Inclusion From a Reluctant Role Model

Written by JoAnn Meyer

I’m not sure my Dad ever really accepted that his little girl was going to work in the oil field – hardhat, steel-toed boots and all. Nonetheless, he expected me to adhere to his work ethic and sent me off with, “Jo, you make ‘em a hand.”

That advice was in my ears as I stumbled around the bed of the winch truck, tripping over chains with links almost as big as my hand, on my first day as a summer field intern with Mobil Oil in 1981. The next advice was from Bob, the winch truck driver, “Slow down, just slow down”, he said through a nervous smile. I was confused as to why “slow” was the preferred speed. Later I decided the company probably frowned on maiming the summer intern, and Bob was concerned about my unsteady gait in those brand new, size 5, Redwing steel-toed boots. I spent the next few weeks learning about pumping units, fiberglass water lines, and more importantly, shovels and “cheater bars”. The temperature was hot, and the work was sometimes strenuous. However, everyone seemed friendly, I was learning so much and, getting lots of advice.

One piece of advice was repeated from many different sources, “Whatever you do, don’t work with Alvin; he doesn’t like women in the oil field.” Each time I heard this I was a little embarrassed at being a woman, but the real concern was, I had absolutely no control over any part of my workday. Just like everyone else, I knew my work assignment for the week when an 11 X 13 sheet of paper appeared on the lunchroom bulletin board every Monday morning. Eventually, my worries faded. Certainly the field superintendent would never assign me to work with Alvin since everyone seemed to know he didn’t want to work with me.

And yet, there it was, one Monday morning in early July, my name printed next to Alvin’s on the work schedule. Quickly I made a mental list of all of the possible explanations for this obvious mistake. Had the superintendent forgotten that Alvin didn’t want to work with women? Had he forgotten that I was a woman? This one seemed unlikely, as he had to write JoAnn on the schedule sheet. Maybe, Alvin had changed his mind?

As the morning meeting started with the superintendent reviewing activities for the week, I panicked a little. Surely, someone else who had seen the schedule would offer advice or bring up the need for a correction during the meeting. With the superintendent’s next words, it became apparent there was no mistake on the schedule sheet. “I want to read a statement before we start work this morning. Mobil Oil Company provides equal employment opportunities (EEO) to all employees and applicants for employment without regard to race, color, religion, sex, national origin… .” His next few words ran together without comprehension. All I heard was “wah, wah, wah” just like Charlie Brown’s teacher in the Peanuts cartoons. And then it was very quiet in the lunchroom, until Alvin said, “Boss that is just fine as long as the women work in the office. They don’t belong in the field.”

I stared at a grease stain on the commercial grade carpet paralyzed with embarrassment. Guess that answered the question about Alvin changing his mind. The meeting ended after an unpleasant back and forth between Alvin and his boss with the last words being, “Alvin, if you don’t like it, there is the door.” The reality that no one would help me resolve this sank in as everyone filed out of the lunchroom to their pickups, trucks and backhoes. In the absence of new advice, I defaulted to my Dad’s advice to “make ‘em a hand” which did not include the qualifier “only if they like you”.

I walked up to Alvin who was still sitting, a little dejected it seemed, and asked, “Alvin should I get the water can ready”? He raised his head and looked me in the eyes, “Are you with me, today”? “Yes sir I am”, I said trying not to look away. “OK ,” Alvin said, “then yes get our water ready.”

Talk about an awkward silence in the cab of that 1980 Chevrolet gang truck. As luck would have it, Alvin had only one roustabout in his gang that day – me, and I was hugging the passenger side door of that truck cab, wondering what I had gotten myself into. For the remainder of that day and the many other days that summer, Alvin may have never liked working with me, but as it turned out, I really liked working with him. When the work was slow, he would remember something he needed to look at in a part of the field or at a piece of equipment that I had never seen. He would describe the important role it played in producing oil and tell me about the last time he repaired something there. When there was work to be done, he expected me to learn how to use the tools and was patient when I had to do over what I didn’t get quite right the first time. He answered all of my questions. Not once did I have to listen to a dirty joke from him. I arrived every Monday morning hoping my name would be next to his on the work schedule.

Alvin may not have been polished or progressive, but he was honest, and real -- qualities that aren’t common, but when found can render even the most contentious situations at least bearable. On the rare occasion, when I have had to work with someone that I didn’t care for, I remember that oil field gang pusher’s professionalism from over 30 years ago. I have seen much less respectful and inclusive behavior exhibited in high-rise conference rooms.

Alvin’s last words to me were, “JoAnn, you did a pretty good job…for a girl.” He laughed, I smiled and considered that a pretty good compliment.

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