Being a bird in the North Sea

As we approach Women In Engineering day once more, I’ve been inspired to reflect on the offshore side of my career in the world of engineering and what being a woman in this male dominated environment was like. Well, let me tell you, it was a hell of a journey and whilst there are things that I would change and things that must change, I love the energy business and I love being a woman in the engineering world. 

My Dad was always directly or indirectly involved in the oil and gas industry, being a pioneer of Radio North Sea and even managing to rope my Mum into taking a day trip out to Forties Alpha in the 70s, which, thanks to the weather, turned into an overnight trip and led her to be among the first women to every stay overnight on a North Sea platform – my Dad was very proud, my Mum was furious – having been promised a 5 hour round trip and with a young baby at home with a babysitter. 

So I grew up with the typical Aberdeenshire backdrop of oil and gas – knowing I would probably end up involved somehow. Aged 14 or so I completed my work experience in the environmental department at BP in the old head office building in Dyce – I was SO proud of myself going into that big building in a suit – I was sure everyone thought I was 25 and an employee. I knew from the first day I walked through the door, saw all those clocks behind the reception desk and felt the buzz of an Oil and Gas business… I had arrived!

I left school aged 15 as I was just desperate to get out into the world and take responsibility for myself and the course of my studies and work. My Dad was disappointed that I didn’t want to go to University but my Mum felt I would find my path and always told me that whatever route I took, I’d wind up where I was meant to be if I worked hard, followed my heart and was kind. I went to college to complete my highers – but ended up spending much of that year in the Lochside Bar playing pool and eating toasties – somehow I scraped through 3 decent Highers and then headed off to travel the world. I backpacked around Asia with my then boyfriend, settled in New Zealand for half a year or so (where I worked in an accountancy firm and learned how hard Kiwis work! Man did that shape my work ethic, something I’m forever grateful for), then I returned to grey, cold Aberdeen – shell shocked and a bit lost, I worked for a couple of years in the health and fitness industry – turns out I prefer receiving sports massages to giving them. I then temped in admin roles in various oil companies, in one particularly grim reception job I found myself routinely napping on my desk and saving up the mornings' letters to open later in the day as it was so so boring that I needed to ensure the excitement didn’t peak too early in the day. This was not the life for me. 

Then, still up to my eyes in travel debt and most certainly not on the right course, my friend Lisa told me about her job as a stewardess offshore. Whilst the nature of the work didn’t appeal to me, I felt if I could get offshore, I could meet people, network and find my way to a job that would really fascinate me.

The following Monday I started my offshore survival – I was so worried, though, when I heard people say they had spent YEARS trying to get their first trip offshore – there was no way I was going to have that experience. I phoned everyone I knew, dropped every name I could and didn’t stop until about a month later I got a phone call, asking me to go the Uisge Gorm as the dishwasher was broken so they needed someone to scrub pots on nightshift. I was delighted! Off I went. 

I headed to Bristows, like a duck out of water but trying to look the part and very, very excited – feeling just like that schoolgirl at BP again. I was, and am, a terrible flyer but forced myself onto that chopper and took to the air. We stopped on the Triton FPSO to refuel – my first step on a North Sea rig – I was so pleased and proud. And in that moment, I felt very aware I was a woman in a man’s world – and it felt great.

So the dishwashing on the UG was an utter ball ache to be honest – I’ve never worked like that before or since – I had blisters on my feet, every bit of me ached but I didn’t want to show I was finding it really hard. I got into the rhythm of it though and I loved the banter, the camaraderie, and the socialising off shift. I was able to focus on my work and do it to the best of my ability - whether it was laundry, toilet cleaning, helping in the galley - then and now, I am a firm believer in doing everything as well as you can, as someone is always watching and it will count towards your next move. I did, however, notice the huge variance in how I was spoken to when I was working in these catering roles. Some people seemed to assume I was not familiar with how to have a normal, intellectual conversation and spoke very. very. slowly. – thinking I wasn’t the brightest bunny in the hutch I can only assume– I didn’t like how that felt to be honest and it hurt. Others were wonderful, appreciated the hard work of myself and my colleagues and helped me figure out how I might find my way to a different type of role. Years later I would see some of those who cast judgement on me in those catering crew days, sitting opposite me in a board room – they never remembered me but I always remembered them – the way they had behaved said everything about them and nothing about me, it was very interesting.

I kept trying to get my break into a project support role offshore but it was taking a while – I kept working on the catering side, having climbed the ladder to lead stewardess after my 3rd trip, now in charge of the Marabou chocolate in the bond (a career highlight I'd say), I was feeling pretty good about it all – I visited the Stena Spey, Bleo Holm and had a few more trips to the Uisge Gorm too. Then one day – as I sat at Bristows ready to fly to the Bleo Holm, my phone rang – the big break – Well Ops wanted me to mobilise the next day to the Seawell, a MSV specialising in well intervention – it was a permanent role in the Project Office - the dream! But I was committed to my next trip on the Bleo Holm, to do laundry on nightshift - not my dream role but a commitment nonetheless. I decided I had to stick with what I had already said yes to - I believed then, and still do now, that integrity is everything, I had to do the hitch, and turn down the opportunity to get into projects I so desperately wanted. I cried all the way to the Bleo Holm on that chopper, then after disembarking I was told to keep my survival suit on as they had messed up numbers and I wasn’t needed and would be immediately flying back home – back to Aberdeen I went and I had missed the opportunity on the Seawell – the role had been filled. I was just gutted and questioned my ‘integrity’ move.

I went on to do a couple more short trips then once again the phone rang – Well Ops again – the guy they had hired didn’t work out and they remembered and liked the fact I didn’t want to let people down. I was hired. 

Then followed 5 years on diving boats in project support roles – the Seawell, Wellservicer and the Skandi Arctic. I loved the world of red boats – I much preferred them to working on fixed installations – it seemed to make the trips fly by when we would move from location to location doing remedial work, diving jobs, well intervention and construction ….. and enjoy the odd port call, but I'm certainly not putting too much about that into writing. And the atmosphere on boats, to me, is pretty special. I love all the tradition surrounding the marine roles and I never tired of watching the sun come up over the Norwegian Fjords whilst enjoying a coffee on the bridge, chatting with a captain who could tell me stories from decades at sea. I was in awe of my colleagues who would calmly head into a SAT chamber for 4 weeks, each day descending to the seabed and putting their lives in the hands of the highly skilled team in charge of their life support systems. I was fortunate to work under an offshore project manager, Doug, who could see how keen I was and supported me to study production technology – when we were waiting on weather or during endless days of running wireline, he would draw diagrams for me on the whiteboard and taught me so much – I’m forever grateful for this technical grounding which has stood me in great sted and proved invaluable in my technical sales and business management career – not least when working to be taken seriously as a credible professional in the engineering world - regrettably, assumptions are often made about my technical understanding based purely on my gender - it is satisfying when I can hold my own and it gives me confidence to stand toe to toe with anyone I may encounter in a board room, in a workshop or climbing up the derrick on a jack-up.

There were fascinating projects that I’m so proud to have played a part in and it really is exhilarating to be right there witnessing cutting-edge technology being used ‘in anger’ - there were scary times too – a DP runoff with divers in the water was memorable for all the wrong reasons – and looking in the eyes of a dive systems superintendent when we lost power to a diving bell that contained his son in law was something I never would want to do again – he restored power and all 3 divers were safely recovered to surface but those 20 minutes felt like a lifetime as we silently watched, terrified as the minutes ticked by, wondering if we were indeed going to get our friends back to surface. And of course there were the worst of times - being the first vessel on site when on a foggy night 120 miles east of Aberdeen, a helicopter crashed in the field we were working in - thankfully all onboard survived, miraculously but that experience shook me to the core and was part of my reasons for deciding that I didn't want to forever commute by chopper. And then that fateful day in April, when one of my colleagues died in a dreadful accident onboard the vessel we called home - he was a lovely man with a kind face, gentle voice and good banter, an experienced and clever guy who was well liked by all – whilst we work in an inherently safe industry – it is still hostile due to many high risk factors – extreme weather, heavy loads, pressure, hydrocarbons and the fact that humans can make mistakes. And things can and do go wrong. Anyone who has been part of a crew who didn’t all make it home, knows the pain of it and will never, ever forget what that feels like. An old Talisman safety strap line has always stayed with me ‘think safe, work safe, home safe’ – it really says it all. 

So yes, there were tough times, some more generally, but some due to being a woman, in these offshore environments – I had to put up with a lot of nonsense I shouldn’t have had to – judgement, sexism and the banter going way too far. But that was the minority of the time – the vast, vast majority of the time saw me having a great time, working hard and laughing harder. Meeting some of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met – watching on a tiny screen in my office as my colleagues welded structures on the seabed, hot tapping, seeing 200te structures carefully deployed over the side and waiting to see if the brand new ballast system worked as well as we were promised – it did, phew. I’m so so grateful to have had these experiences as they were my grounding for a career I love in an industry I am passionate about - and I’m proud to have been part of a small group of women who have called the North Sea their home.