Fresh out of college, I was excited to start my career as an engineer. By the time I graduated college, it felt like I already had a lifetime of work experience behind me.
Balancing college and work had been challenging, but I felt prepared and almost relieved to be moving into the next phase of life. I entered my new job full of confidence and somehow wildly unprepared for the challenges of real adult life.
My foray into “real life” began as a coiled tubing field engineer with a service company that was known for being exacting on the North Slope of Alaska. The engineering team was in high-demand, working long hours managing complex projects.
My first difficult assignment hadn’t been done since the ‘80s in Russia, or so the story went. I know that Alaska is full of tall tales, so it did not surprise me when we found that no one knew how to start this task. I had so many questions and surely someone had to be able to tell me how to accomplish this.
It was late one night in the engineering office when I was peppering my assigned mentor with questions. She slowly turned to face me and told me: I would have to think for myself. She was not going to do it for me. I could no longer just rely on other people to answer my questions, I needed to come up with the solution. No one knew how to do what we were trying to do, and I had to figure it out.
This moment was uncomfortable. She was disappointed in my performance, and I had never felt so incompetent. I was not smart enough. I was not a creative problem-solver—maybe I was one of those engineers who was only book smart. The next few months were a struggle as I worked to prove to myself that I was the kind of person capable of thinking outside the box and working through challenges.
As my confidence and the role progressed, I began presenting solutions and was really stepping into the role. I also began to get physically ill before returning for my rotation on the North Slope. I was thrilled to be given increasingly challenging roles and tasks and to be progressing at this company. I did my best to brush past the nagging voice in my head.
It took me a couple of years to realize that while my progression was great, I was not managing my stress in a healthy way. I was not being successful in the way that I truly defined the word.
I imagined that as I got better at my job, the pressure would diminish, but it didn’t. It only grew. I realized that I was not aligned with how that company defined success and that the stress would never decrease.
The thing about the North Slope is that while the tundra can be brutal, the people are not. I had met so many amazing people who were willing to talk with me about my future. As we say in the oilfield, I decided to change the color of my coveralls and went to another company that was highly recommended and known for having a more positive work environment.
Today I can look back and say that I have become a critical thinker, strategic, and thoughtful, and I can give a lot of credit to my first job. It brings me great joy to positively encourage the same in others.
My approach is different in that we provide the appropriate level of support to match the development level of the person. We set expectations upfront with new team members and help them progress toward successful critical thinking.
While I have eventually become proud of the way I think through problems, I am most proud of the positive environment that we foster for the team and the support that we give them. We ask the team if they are managing their stress, if they are sleeping, how they feel. I would not change my destination; however, I am creating a better way to get here for those who follow.
—Sherry Rodriguez McGee, Director of Engineering, HOLT Group
