Justice League of Schlumberger

A lot of weird things happen. Wars cause Oil price to shatter the ceiling, Wars cause reporters to run haywire and Wars cause superheroes to fly. So how possibly could Clark Kent manage to don the cape, and also manage to keep the management at Daily Planet happy about his absence. Saddam Hussain was no Lex Luthor. He required Superman to take more bullets on the chest, more flying time, more muscle flexing. So while Superman was content, Clark Kent wasn’t. He got fired.
Ok, so this is how the situation stands - frugal bank balance, no job and a rock solid body.
Ms Lois Lane shed a few tears when Clark cleared his desk but he was thinking something else.
“Where is all money in these days? IT sector, Nah!, what possible could come out of punching codes? Investment banking, Nah!, shedding an Armani suit in a telephone booth to fly away when needed would mean a new suit each day. Tough Luck! So now what? Let me think. What had caused the war? Oil, right? That is on a big high these days. Well that’s an interesting idea. Oil Industry. Now which company? I’ve heard that these E&P biggies do a lot of layoffs. I wouldn’t want to lose my job again. Service companies sound nice. Which is the best? Schlumberger. Weird name though. Sounds like Schumacher eating a hamburger. Let’s give it a shot”
So Superman A.K.A Clark Kent was in. OFS-I went fine except for the fact that Clark did not get flight reservations done. Apparently he did not need them. Some wondered why?
He was in for Well Services (Frac Division****). A lot of SLB’s money would have been saved had he been generous enough to ram the ground with all his might but that he did not do. Incognito was the key for super- heroism. Pre-School, School and Post-School were eventless. His bunk-house roomie was happy to have the rest-room at his disposal every morning. Sometimes he did ponder about Clark’s toilet habits though. Even the laundry-staff grunted at finding a blue coverall with “Clark Kent” on the lapel, smudged with mud, behind the bunkhouse but they never looked questioningly at a red underwear.
Peter Parker met similar fate when Mr. J. Jonah Jamison, editor-in-chief at Daily Bugle, found it too hard too hard to negotiate with him. The freelancer job was gone. He now had to support Mary Jane too, who was beautiful nevertheless but her theatrical prowess did not fetch enough money. Building slinging wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Ah! Now our millionaire superhero, Bruce Wayne. Inheritance doesn’t last that long and Rupert Murdoch’s hostile takeover of Wayne Broadcasting Corp, reduced him to rags. Also Robin, a good for nothing fella was eating on his resources. Should I sell the Bat-Mobile? But how long will that keep me stuffed? Maybe I should ask Val Kilmer or George Clooney to pull me through? No! Batman never asks for help. Let me find a job then. Yes that’ll be the best.
Similar fate struck Green Lantern, Flash, Wonder Woman and Hawk Girl. Sounds wee-much of a coincidence but then fate is fate and fiction is fiction. So now all our heroes met at their outer-space hangout/headquarters for their weekly rendezvous. Superman, as usual, presided over the meet. He sat at the end of the long table, others alongside poring over their dossiers. Robin took the minutes. After the usual who-bashed-which-baddie discussion, things came down to bread-butter. Superman told them about the great company he was working for (The F.S.M of which meanwhile was fuming at the locked toilet door).
“Why don’t you guys join in? We are a team in capes and masks, now we could be a team in coveralls too” “But why this company? I mean I could do a regular job and still be happy about it” : Batman
“Yeah! But then it’ll be only you and not us. We could all be in together, and on top of it our powers might come in handy there”
“Would they take a girl? Sounds like quite a manly-burly job” : Hawk Girl
“Like what you do now is Barbie feeding! On top of it, you stand a better chance of getting in than Spidey or Flash here!”
“Ok but how do I hide my wings?”
So a month later every one was in the family. Two got into wireline, one in well services and three in DnM.
What happened over the next few months was inexplicable.
Stuck tools got jarred free when no one was around. Colossal amounts of sand got moved overnight. Wireline snapped while taking station but the tool held as a knot was found tied on the surface. Support vessel capsizes in rough sea, but survivors claim rescue was uncanny. Spider web found on top of the mast and a black spandex underwear in the laundry. Some eyebrows went up.
On a fateful day, thunderclouds roll by, lightening crackles and the earth rumbles. MET record a 10.2 Richter quake. Epicenter five miles of the coast of Norway. Valhall platform quivers and starts buckling. Jack-up rig docked to platform also succumbs. Evacuation siren tears through the night. 175 crew on board. Will they make it before the legs give away?
♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪  ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪  ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪  ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪
Silhouette of seven people seen in the distant sky blotted against the fog lights. The tilting platform screeched to a halt and the jackup was held by a mesh of web. Clang ! Bang ! And Clang ! The threat passed. Lifeboats went back to the davits and the crowd cheered.
Next day four SQ-RIR’s were registered stating FE was missing from jobsite.
So that’s about the story of the mighty people working for the equally mighty, blue-billion company, Schlumberger.
For people looking forward to the other adventures of the league rush to the stands to grab a copy of the next issue of DC Comic or subscribe in Quest.
So far life is great.

Comedy of Errors

It all began with the Chromosomes maybe. And also the DNA’s. They coalesced in wrongful proportions and caused the uncanny YOU. Then the Obstetrician slipped on the marble floor and YOU entered the world. That was just the beginning. The prelude to the majestic saga ahead.

A for Apple, B for Bat, C for Dog … Uh oh!! Studies began. Then came the horrendous tables which become hopelessly unpalatable and mercilessly error prone after 13. Mathematics has always ruled the roost, as far as boo-boos in academics are concerned. Geometry, Trigonometry, Calculus, Statistics et.al. Name it and Maths has the desired branch over which you can slam your head on the desk.

The exams are the battlefield of the error warriors, where spellings try to outdo numerical screw-ups. Whosoever wins, YOU always go down the drain.

And YOU thought that bidding farewell to the school gates was the end of it. Think again. Miles to go before I sleep, Miles to go before I sleep.

Choosing a career path is one of the vital and most fatal decision to be made. One wrong news ad, one unnerving relative, one raging parent and one wrong bent of mind and YOU are done for. BIG time.

What a messed up world would that be where engineers yield scalpels, doctors pore over blue prints, architects code away relentless on the 15’’ screen, writers kickass on the football ground and jerkos yield a pen ---- Uh Oh!----------

BLOGS SPROUT

Anyways errors should be carefully sidetracked in choosing a path to glory or YOU might well end up with an epitaph which reads:

Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas
Instead of the brake

Wrong choices always lead to disasters. Holy Matrimony bears a close semblance to the above statement. Fall for a girl who ain’t your type and realize it too late. YOU are done for again. BIGGER time.

Heart rules but when the brain realizes that YOU are neck deep in shit it stimulates the lachrymal glands there goes the love of your life.

Errors’ blow increase exponentially with time and it delivers the last punch as you crane over the cliff, light a stove, peel open a naked live-wire or decide to heroically rescue a child from a burning building.

So that was the center forward in the field who chose the way for YOU and lead to such a final destination.

There lies an irony underneath all ‘this’. Despite knowing the pains that errors cause there is no way we can avoid them. Destiny ain’t foolproof and life ain’t bulletproof.

So that’s the story of errors.

Lemme do a spell check now.

Elizabethan Prophecy

I was the knight in the shining armor riding down the foggy path through the forest at the dead of night. My head hung dejectedly on a slumped shoulder as the steed tore through the night. Winning wars and collecting taxes did not matter to me anymore as a tumult reigned within me. There was never a moment of fulfillment despite the stately success and the praises that rained from heaven.

Banquo was riding beside me, his face set straight and looking hard through the fog that cast an eerie glow on the foliage around. He is a dear friend of mine and has been so since long. He is a fine bloke and a dexterous swordsman. As good as he is in yielding an arm; he is also an adept wooer. Banquo has been courting a lovely lady lately and from the looks of it, things seem to be getting definite.

Now the reason for my forlorn demeanor is my abortive love life, to put things straight. The thing has been bothering and hollowing me from the inside and I feel like collapsing into myself. The love bug had struck on my last visit to Bronderslev where I had met Arisia Graoch, the daughter of the local surgeon. Things looked pretty well and her eyes were wet as I rode out of the village. Letters were exchanged on a regular basis for over a year when fate struck and events took an unexpected turn. Arisia moved to Holmgarde where she went down the road to opulence and since then letters went unanswered and groans went unheard. This was what I was thinking of today as I rode towards the castle of Denmark.

Poof…Poof…Poof and apparated out thin air three figures crouching over a steaming cauldron. Ah! Witches for sure as the smell of cooking salamander wafted through the air. They had long noses and creepy eyes which surveyed us closely.

“Which of you is Macbeth?” One of the witches squeaked.

“Me it is”

“Bother not O! Brave Knight for what you seek shall be yours in time”

“What is that you speak of??” I demanded

“Macbeth, yours fears are justified but you shall have the love of your life and the gloom of your soul shall vanish”

“Really!!! When would it happen?? I’ am sick of waiting”

“The day when the Birnam Woods move towards the castle of Denmark”

“Whaaaat ???? Birnam Woods will move!!! Are you out of your mind??”

“Stars tell the tale and never incorrectly”

Poof…Poof…Poof and they vanished into thin air.

What a remarkable prophecy. Impossibility achieved divine proportions tonight. The spark of hope that remained seemed to quiver in the cold draft. I looked up at the sky and closed my eyes.

“God send Malcom and Macduff speedily as I am tired of tarrying matters and need to put my heart to rest and soul to peace. Move O! The mighty Birnam Woods and let me embrace my destiny”

Shakespeare wrote the rest.

Toothbrush Obscenity

All the avid and a bit observant movie buffs out there, I have a question for you. What is that which is not shown in any movie howsoever explicitly vulgar and outlandish the movie be???

I’ll tell you. Surprisingly it is one such affair that everyone indulges in and is not repugnant. Brushing of teeth … or rather spitting of the paste foam.

There are many such examples. In the movie Enemy at the gates Vassilli Zaitsev (the main protagonist) was shown to indulge in carnal pleasures but when it came to ‘basin’al behavior the camera always stayed focused at the mirror and never panned down. Same was the case in The Truman Show and Stuart Little (the kid did not get laid though).

Even Hindi movies stick to this fundaa. Take for instance Lucky. The girl studies for her exam as she brushes and the camera movement never defies the trajectory. Kya Kehna was also in league.

Maybe the directors have some qualms in filming this ‘social outrage’ and ‘distasteful behavior’ of man. We are at peace though as skin flicks rule.

What the heck “WE” do???

I won’t say petrified but am at loss of words when people ask me “What exactly do petroleum engineers do?” and I smile sheepishly and say “Aah... Well… Hmm…Knock it off”.

The thing that troubles me the most in my engineering sphere is explaining to people what the sphere encloses. Electrical, Mechanical, Electronics, Com-Sci are self-proclaimed departments and no moron ventures to ask the same question to such an engineer but our case is a bit different.

Now to answer the question - In the four years of the course we just go to the lecture halls, jot down notes, freak out the whole sem, mug up all the crap and if need be resort to unfair means, throw up all the ingested stuff in the end-sems and go onto the next sem. So in the four years the domain of all the departments remains fairly similar but the real problem arises thereafter.

In short we try and save the maximum chunk of the forex reserve of the country. For the obtuse – “We drive the nation” but since this statement seems a bit too egotistical so let me explain. The entire upstream sector of the oil industry i.e. the exploration and production segment have the petroleum engineers as the nerve center and we also share responsibility for the lifeblood circulation. So the technical decision making and a part support system is taken care by us. And since this world won’t survive for a day without oil it would be safe to state that we indeed make the world go. Oh! Wow! And I always thought that this was an exaggeration until today.

So when some one asks me “So Indian Oil Corp must surely be recruiting from your campus?” it psyches me out totally. I look up and pray “God bestow a little knowledge on this imprudent creature”. Upstream and downstream are two totally different phases of the industry and asking such a question is like asking a stockbroker about the current onion prices.

Now when laymen tread into technical territory they commit utter faux pas. “Does one have to go down into the oil well to bail out oil?” Yah sure, reduce yourself to the size of a carrot and go down the well because any bigger dimensions might cause a bit of suffocation downhole. So Bon Voyage!!

Not their fault though as this an atypical branch and general awareness is less. Well lay your queries to rest and drop in a mail if required.

Do not expect a prompt reply though as I maybe too busy driving the nation around.

Toilet Seat ‘N’ Shaving Syndrome

Researchers say that the best ideas happen when in bed and not Archimedes type but I beg to differ and here’s my notion. Mind churns up whims, crap, shit and sometimes even ideas when you want it to do so and not when left to itself. So in the frenzied and chaotic life of today when does calm pervade?

Ask me and I will tell you two such instances, as the title suggests.

Press the plunger and take a generous amount of foam, apply liberally over the face. Next pick up the razor and begin the process of thinking. Glance into the mirror, look into your eyes and ponder over the loose threads and Oh! Yes don’t forget to take care of the nicks that might have been caused by the razor in the process. Try this the next time you decide to smoothen your countenance and who knows what great crap is born! Sorry gals! For missing this legacy but don’t be disheartened for here’s the next option.

The glittering throne of the humankind and seat to attain pseudo-orgasmic contentment can also provide a valuable service of crafting thought. Take it this way - what else can you do with a bare bottom in the confines of a cubicle? So why not tread a noble path and amble towards glory while still perched on the throne. How many inventions of today owe their birth to the call of nature, I can’t say for sure but it sure helps to delve deep into the thought process.

Beds are meant for sleeping and an econo-budget pastime and they should be allowed to serve their purpose.

Well I guess am done …………….. Flush ……….. Close the lid of the laptop and brace for the world outside the toilet. Know what? Sometimes you can go a step ahead of thinking too.