“So son… you want to be a rough-neck, huh?” A series of buzzing, flickering fluorescent lights distract Terrance for a minute as he picks up a broom and gives the lighting fixture a solid whack. The lights continue to buzz and flicker, unperturbed.
I just met Terrance. Just five minutes ago. And I am not impressed.
He has a twirling cluster of nose hair exiting his left nostril. It is held in place by a small, pebble like booger the color of lime. Despite the fact that he has male-pattern baldness he has grown out the hair on the sides of his head into a pony tail held in place with a gaudy silver clasp. Two brand new cowboy boots gleam at me from up top his desk. I know without asking that Terrance hasn’t done a day’s hard labor in his entire life.
Without asking I also know that Terrance is being rude to me. In fact, he’s being rude on purpose. He has asked me that question no less than three times, in between the various phone calls he has been answering. Also, despite the fact that my application is right in front of him he has also managed to call me by the wrong name at twice. Again, on purpose. What makes him madder is that I don’t bother to correct him.
“Yes sir,” I answered. “I need the money to pay for college.”
I did too. But that wasn’t the only reason I was there. Even at that moment I knew it. A kid like me doesn’t end up in an oil field except by choice.
“Just the summer then?” Terrance already knows that this is the case. I told him that on the phone when I set up this interview. He just wants to see me beg for it. I don’t think anyone like me has ever begged Terrance for anything. I think this amuses him greatly. I also realize I don’t care. If Terrance were smart enough to realize this he would have kicked me out of his office five minutes ago. The only value I have to him is that I will care when I beg.
“I know sir… I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s not worth it to bring me on for the summer. You’re thinking ‘this kid doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into’ but I promise I’ll do my best, sir. You won’t regret it.” This is all of course strictly bullshit. The average working career of a rough-neck on any particular rig is about a month and a half. Tops. That’s averaged with the guys who stay for years. Most people don’t come back after their first day. My step-father told me all this. He works for this company.
“It’s a very tough job you understand, not many people like us out there.” Terrance laughs. He’s referring to my skin. I’m white. A small percentage of those who rough neck in New Mexico can say the same. As his chuckle dies, Terrance lifts up one of his hands from my application and pulls the pebble like booger off of the clump of nostril hair and wipes it on his pants. He puts my application in the garbage at the side of his desk.
“Do I have the job, sir?” I need this money. I keep staring at my application in the garbage. Terrance would have given this job to any crank head off the street, but he won’t give it to me. Not until he sees me crawl.
“You should go apply over at Peterson. Peterson sometimes hires kids like you for the summer. You don’t get to rough-neck of course, and of course the wage is less. He’ll have you drive around and check pumps. Not much to it, but you’ll make a decent wage.” Terrance leans back in his chair and presses a button on his phone to silence a sudden ringing. He’s looking at me. I know what he wants. He wants me to plead my case. Asshole.
I smile.
Terrance frowns.
“Sir, I want this job. No one pays like you do. I need this money for school, and I promise I’ll work hard.” I have been working hard all of my life, not that Terrance would believe it. I work even harder not to let it show. My freshman year of college I was in a class where I and a group of other students conducted research on water filtration systems. I was the project leader of my group. One of the people under me was a Senator’s nephew. He never even questioned the fact that I was put in charge. I don’t keep where I come from a secret, but no one ever looks at me like they actually believe it.
“You’re persistent, aren’t you kid?”
I could tell Terrance a lot of things. I could tell Terrance that I once got a personal phone call from a Nobel Laureate who wanted to congratulate me on winning a scholarship. I could tell him my Enlightenment Literature professor had followed me out of class the last day of winter quarter and told me I was the best student he had ever had. I could tell him a lot of things. But that’s not why I’m in the oil fields. I’m in the oil fields because none of those things mean a damn to me.
“Yes sir, and if you throw away that application I’ll just fill out another one. I want this job.” I do. I want to be hurt. I need this pain. It’ll help me. It’ll fix me. I’ve been a coward most of my life, and I know it. Just like I know being beat up has only ever made me stronger. I thrive on tension.
Terrance sighs. He’s the “Safety Man.” He’s in charge of the hiring and the firing at the company I want to drill for. This means he has a bullshit degree in the kind of science where you don’t have to know how to add or subtract to produce a theory.
“Are you sure? This is going to be rough kid. There’s a reason they call working on an oil rig rough necking.” I want to ask Terrance if he can find the eigen values of a non-defective nxn algebraic matrix, and then throw the cup of coffee he’s drinking from in his face. But I won’t. I want this job. I want the horror and the shit and the blood. The money will last the next year of college, but this experience will last a lifetime.
“I’m sure.” With two nicotine stained fingernails Terrance pulls my application back out of the garbage and then pulls another form from inside of his desk. He writes a few words on it then hands it to me.
It’s a form for a drug test.
I’m in.
“You know where Main St. is, kid?” I nod. I know where I have to go. Terrance tells me anyway.
Before I leave Terrance looks at me and with a smile that exudes insolence and says “Be here Monday at 8 o’clock if you pass that.” He doesn’t want me to pass. He wants to find out that I am a heroin addict.
I have never done a drug in my life. I have never had a drink in my life. I have never puffed from a cigarette. Not once. I could tell him this, but I don’t. He doesn’t want to hear it and it would just sound pretentious. I can’t say anything good about myself without sounding pretentious.
I turn to leave again. Terrance’s voice stops me “That’s a.m., kid. Don’t be showing up here at night.”
I want to say, I know that you dick, but I don’t.
