Engineering an Opportunity: From a Heist Movie to the Oil Rig
During my early teenage years, my family followed a regular Friday routine that now feels distinctly ancient. Every week after dinner, my mother, brother, and I would stroll for 20 minutes down quiet suburban streets to the entertainment haven that was the video rental store. If we had behaved well, the ultimate treat awaited: free rein to rent a film of our choice. My mother rarely vetoed our selection, allowing us to watch a wide range of movies. However, it was an unassuming family comedy starring child actors Kristen Stewart and Corbin Bleu from High School Musical that would change my life forever.
The Moment That Sparked a Dream
Released in 2004, Catch That Kid tells the story of three children who rob a bank to pay for Stewart's father's expensive surgery. I often describe the film as The Italian Job but for preteens. There are all manner of shenanigans, but most importantly, the heist is successful, and the trio escapes on go-karts. It was this element of the film—not the duplicitous declarations of love Stewart makes to both boys to convince them to help, nor the love of climbing that caused her father's injuries—that truly caught my eye. I remember the moment vividly: sandwiched between my distractible brother and bored mother on the couch, I was in awe as Stewart and her two loveboys screamed away in fast little machines, surrounded by piles of money. I want to do that, I thought. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to drive fast.
With all the self-importance of a 13-year-old making a declaration about the rest of their life, I told my mother: "I am going to become the first black, female, Muslim Formula One driver." This was pre-Lewis Hamilton, of course. "OK," she replied. "After you wash the dishes..." My parents were certain this was a phase, but somehow, it wasn't. I read every single book about cars in the local library and plastered posters of 1963 Corvette Sting Rays and McLaren F1s on my walls.
Pivoting to Engineering
We didn't have the money for me to become an actual driver, so I pivoted into design. At university, I studied mechanical engineering, running the university's race-car team and graduating with first-class honors. I was selected for an exclusive master's program in motorsport at a university that fed directly into elite teams. A life in Formula One was beckoning—it was all systems go! However, I had failed to achieve what Stewart had so elegantly accomplished: leaving the scene with a lot of money. Formula One is not for those with small bank accounts. An offer of work experience at Mercedes F1 had to be turned down because I didn't have the funds to cover months of unpaid work. The fees for the course, plus board, amounted to A$50,000. In lieu of robbing a bank, what is an engineering girly to do?
A New Path: The Oil Rig
It was then that I dug out the email address of a man I had met at a careers fair during my early engineering years. I had been attracted at the time by the profession he was advertising: the adventure, the idea of taking a helicopter to work, and the paycheck wasn't shabby either. In the interview, the manager seemed nervous. "You know, we don't have any other women field specialists. Are you going to be OK?" I shrugged, with the arrogance of a 20-year-old who had no idea what she was getting into: "I'll be fine!" How hard could working on the oil rigs be?
Working on the "patch"—as those in the know refer to the oilfield—is not for the faint-hearted. The hours are demanding, and in the roles I held—first as a measurement while drilling (MWD) specialist, then as a drilling engineer—you are on call, expected to drop everything when needed, and paid to work for as long as the job requires. I worked both onshore, in the Australian desert, and offshore, in the Indian Ocean. Hitches—the length of time away from home—could range from a couple of weeks to a couple of months. Shifts were typically 12 hours, but if you were on a well from hell, as I sometimes was, you might be up and problem-solving for up to 20 hours at a time. Why worry about something as insignificant as sleep when an idling rig costs a million dollars a day to run, and everyone is waiting on you to solve the problem holding up operations?
The Thrill and the Danger
But there was something that kept drawing me back: the thrill of a helicopter ride to the platform, the technical challenge of hitting a six-and-a-half-inch target thousands of feet underground, the isolation, the pressures, and the unfathomable dangers that were part of the day-to-day. For about four years, the adventure was intoxicating. Yet it was not to last forever, and I eventually left the oil rigs for a career as a writer. Still, I will always be grateful to Stewart and her boys for introducing me to a world I would never have discovered otherwise. And while I may never have made it onto the racetrack, I certainly still love being behind the wheel.
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