What started so promisingly back in February 2010 has come to a premature end - the victim of an 81-mile commute and too many hours at work. Those of you who still occassionally check my blog, to which I have posted exactly twice (counting this post) since December 2010, might remember my excitement over going to work for The South Texas Project Nuclear Operating Company ("STP") about eighteen months ago. Alas, that chapter of my like ended earlier than I expected, on June 8, 2011.
Following my inglorious layoff from Transocean after a thirteen-year run I was out of work for almost nine months. Being without a job isn't really so bad - for awhile that is. Unemployment gives you lots of time to do all those things you've always wanted to do - clean out the garage, take a few vacations (subject to available funding), visit the kids, clean out the closets, volunteer, catch up on your Bible study, clean out the attic, etc. But once you've visited, volunteered and cleaned out everything in sight the concept of earning a living starts to creep back into your consciousness, especially when the severance runs out. I was blessed to have STP arrive on the scene at just the right time.
As depicted in its official mailing address, STP is located eight miles west of Wadsworth, Texas on FM 521. It's a nuclear electric power generating station, and a darn good one. The people at STP are about as good a bunch as you'd ever want to work with. They have their quirks - lots of them as a matter of fact - but they are good at what they do and generally have fun doing it. When I decided to throw in with STP I was concerned about the commute, but I figured I could handle it. I was wrong. Spending three hours every day in your car ends ups being a less than positive experience. Although, on the positive side, I did listened to about seventy books on tape (actually CD), which probably qualifies me as being a well-read (well-listened?) individual. I also managed to never run into any four-legged animals larger that skunks, possums and raccoons. Most of my STP collegues are veterans of one or more big game collisions - with either a deer or a hog, or both.
I learned a few things at STP that will be valuable as I continue my career. However, I also learned a few things that are actually fun to know. For instance, are you aware that there are vastly different definitions for pastries available from Shipley's? If you go into a Shipley's in the Houston area and order a kolache you will be served a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough. If you order the same thing in Bay City (the metropolis near Wadsworth) you'll get a flat sweet pastry with some kind of fruit on top. If you want the equivalent of a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough in Bay City you need to order a "pig" which is actually a man-size piece of sausage wrapped in something that more closely resembles a biscuit. The Bay City version is much better than its Houston cousin. During my tenure at STP the task of providing pigs for the HR group typically fell on me, primarily because a certain recruiting manager talked a good game, but was too cheap to ever actually buy any of them for his fellow HR associates. I won't mention any names, but he knows who he is.
As depicted in its official mailing address, STP is located eight miles west of Wadsworth, Texas on FM 521. It's a nuclear electric power generating station, and a darn good one. The people at STP are about as good a bunch as you'd ever want to work with. They have their quirks - lots of them as a matter of fact - but they are good at what they do and generally have fun doing it. When I decided to throw in with STP I was concerned about the commute, but I figured I could handle it. I was wrong. Spending three hours every day in your car ends ups being a less than positive experience. Although, on the positive side, I did listened to about seventy books on tape (actually CD), which probably qualifies me as being a well-read (well-listened?) individual. I also managed to never run into any four-legged animals larger that skunks, possums and raccoons. Most of my STP collegues are veterans of one or more big game collisions - with either a deer or a hog, or both.
I learned a few things at STP that will be valuable as I continue my career. However, I also learned a few things that are actually fun to know. For instance, are you aware that there are vastly different definitions for pastries available from Shipley's? If you go into a Shipley's in the Houston area and order a kolache you will be served a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough. If you order the same thing in Bay City (the metropolis near Wadsworth) you'll get a flat sweet pastry with some kind of fruit on top. If you want the equivalent of a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough in Bay City you need to order a "pig" which is actually a man-size piece of sausage wrapped in something that more closely resembles a biscuit. The Bay City version is much better than its Houston cousin. During my tenure at STP the task of providing pigs for the HR group typically fell on me, primarily because a certain recruiting manager talked a good game, but was too cheap to ever actually buy any of them for his fellow HR associates. I won't mention any names, but he knows who he is.
I also learned more than I ever thought I would about sea glass. For those of you who don't know, Matagorda Beach - just a few short miles from Wadsworth - is a world class repository of sea glass. Sea glass comes in many forms - all of them glass - that range from shards of 200 year old wines bottles (which I believe are red) to two-week old Pepsi bottles, which wash up onto the beach. Those with a romantic imagination see these bits of broken glass as the survivors of ship wrecks. Others, like me, more correctly guess that they come from the trash thrown overboard by the ship's garbage officer. Those with a stylish and artistic bent comb the beach for sea glass, which can be sold to local artisans for incorporating into jewelry and other valuable fashion items. Some sea glass fetches a considerable price - often up to thousands of dollars. The shards from the Pepsi bottles are at the lower end of the pricing scale.
I learned that people in the Bay City area get really excited about a new Mexican food restaurant, even if it's not all that good. They may have us beat on the pig front at Shipley's, but tragically, they aren't in our league when it comes to Mexican food. What they do have that we don't have is the K-2 Steakhouse, which has the largest selection of comfort food ever assembled. My favorite attraction is the tub of butter at the salad bar, which is big enough to butter most of the New England states. If you're ever on a diet and you want to do some closet eating away from your friends I suggest a drive down to the K-2 to destroy your will power in style.
I want to close this post by sending out a shout-out to all of my homies at STP . . . Vickie, Jennifer, Elsa, Lisa (the nurse), Lisa (the sea glass queen), Shawn, Kevin, L.T., Larry (no pigs), Connie, Mike, Tina, Roxanne, Clarence, Rhonda, Sharon, Crystal, Janna, Shannon, and Renee. I enjoyed working with each of you and I wish you all the very best in the coming years. I was blessed to have had the opportunity to work with you.
NEWS FLASH: Following my departure from STP, Vicki and I and 60 of our closest friends from the First Colony Church of Christ took an eight-day trip to Israel. See if you can find me in the picture abovem next to the Jordan River near where the Israelites probably crossed into the Promised Land. (HINT: I'm the one in the hat.) In the old days - when I was unemployed and blogging was the highlight of my days - I would have posted at least four lengthy blogs with pictures and details of the trip. However, for now let me just say that in my opinion, all Christians should make a trip to the Holy Land at least once in their lives. The perspective it provides on the life and times of Jesus is something you'll never forget.
NEWS FLASH #2: I will be starting a new job at Aramco Services Company in Houston on Thursday. The commute is 18 miles, which should take about 30 minutes, unless it rains, or there's a stalled car, or an accident, or a random police car parked near the freeway, or between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then, who knows how long it will take?
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