First Day of Oil Spill Cleanup Work

Reminisces of my first day reporting for oil spill cleanup duty on Friday, August 13, 2010:

It is 4:20 AM. I've just gotten up and turned on the coffee maker. The head supervisor at the oil spill cleanup staging area told me yesterday to come in today. There will be many workers like me at the staging site, a local elementary school parking lot. Because of the crowd, I've been instructed that when I get there, I should stay in my car until 5:30 AM, when we're supposed to line up and have our badges scanned to clock in by 6 AM. I put on my work jeans, a special long-sleeved white shirt made up of breathable fibers treated to reflect heat and UV rays, and my steel toed work boots, pour the coffee in a travel cup, and head out the door.

At 5:15 AM, I arrive at the parking lot. It's difficult to see what's happening at the clock-in area because there is a line of large charter busses in the circular drive. We're supposed to park in the "grass" - there isn't much grass left, it's mostly red clay mud, but it's not too wet. As I park I notice that none of the other workers is waiting in his or her car. I gather my hard hat, safety glasses, and fluorescent vest from the passenger seat and head up toward the front of the school. My heart stops - I see that there is already a long line of workers snaking around the edge of the circular drive. My brain starts calculating whether there are already more people here than bus seats, but I keep walking anyway until I reach the end of the line.

At 5:30, the line moves through the two badge scanning administrators surprisingly quickly. We workers are herded toward a number of tables labeled "Strike Team 1" to "Strike Team 5". I recall that the supervisor told me to look for Strike Team 1 or 2, so I head to the Strike Team 1 line. We are signing in (in spite of the fact that we were just scanned in) and printing our names on the Team Roster list for the specific team to which we belong. After 15 minutes of worrying that Strike Team 1 will fill up, I get to the head of the line and look for my name. It isn't on the list. I ask a supervisor behind the table and he asks me what my name is. When I tell him, he says, "Oh, last names L through Z are on Strike Team 2, get in that other line!" So I get in the other line, just certain I'm going to be put on standby. But it turns out that they've had to change the rotation, so some of the people in line aren't supposed to be here today and they are instructed to leave. When I reach the head of the line, I locate my name on the sheet and sign in. I locate the bus for my team, climb inside, and find a seat along with about 30 other workers and a few foremen.

It's 6:15 AM. A couple of men have spoken to us on the bus about why we haven't left yet, though none of them has identified himself as a foreman or a supervisor. One of them has started passing back a notebook and pen, instructing us to print our names and phone numbers so the team foreman can contact us in the days ahead if need be. Then the notebook is passed through again, and we're supposed to put our names, addresses and social security numbers on a different list. The foreman explains that he wants to make extra sure that the administration department has this information for all of his team members so that our paychecks will be processed correctly. After about a dozen people have already filled in this information, a general uproar from the workers convinces the foreman that we should only have to put down the last four digits of our SSNs. He locates the list and scratches out the first five digits for the people who've already begun the list. As a software engineer, this constant duplication of information is driving me nuts. I start designing a web-based oil spill team management application in my mind...

Our bus rolls out of the staging site and we arrive shortly along with a second bus at a location that has an access road to a long stretch of ocean front in Ft. Walton Beach. Some logistics people are already there, they have all terrain vehicles (ATVs) that get loaded up with the equipment stored in our bus. We wait for what seems like a long time after the ATVs leave. In the meantime, various people get on the bus and address us, only one of whom, a safety enforcement person, bothers to tell us who he is. Since we are still waiting, I get the sudden urge to stand up, pretend to be someone in authority, and make a speech about what is going to happen today. But I successfully resist this temptation and we are off the bus at 7:30 AM.

I ride with 13 other people to one of the work sites in an open-sided trailer pulled by a farming tractor. (think of a covered hayride with bench seats) My team's site for today is not too far from the beach access road. We exit the people carrier and set up a the site by erecting a portable canopy near the dunes for a break area and laying a large rectangle of plastic sheeting in front of it for a decontamination area. (where we will put on and remove our protective gear) The team is divided into two squads that will rotate between working and resting due to our exposure to the heat and humidity. Spilled oil from the BP well has been weathered by the sun and the sea over a period of days, so it is no longer off-gassing dangerous fumes like benzene or tolulene. (unlike the oil from the Exxon Valdez which was much closer to the shoreline) There is no smell of anything on the beach but salty ocean air.

It is 8:15 AM. My squad is chosen to work first. We line up at the decontamination area and don the special oil resistant gloves and boot covers. There aren't many visible tarballs on the surface of the sand but I soon find out that there are many of them hidden below the surface. Our squad has four roles to fill while looking for the oil tarballs. Some of us use plastic rake shovels with metal mesh to rake the sand. Almost immediately, oil tarballs ranging in size from a dime to a quarter pop up from beneath the surface. The rake person could scoop these up and sift the extra sand out through the mesh, but it's more efficient for them to keep raking while a second role uses a long handled net to capture and sift the tarballs. A third role follows the rakers and sifters with buckets or thich plastic bags to hold the captured tarballs. A fourth role uses a plastic shovel to dig exploratory holes in the sand at various locations around the work area. Occasionally this person will find much larger veins of oil tarballs (some of which are as large as a human hand) that the rest of the team can concentrate on. Sooner than I realize, 30 minutes has elapsed and it is time for our team to be relieved by the other squad. We lay down our tools at the far end of the decontamination mat and remove and discard our protective gloves and boot covers while the next squad puts on fresh ones.

Our squad shifts continue to rotate like this throughout the day with a general break at noon for lunch and an occasional stand down due to rain or nearby lightning. Lunch happens under the team canopy but safety stand downs require us to be transported back to the busses. In the early afternoon, we strike the work sites and head back to the busses. The logistics people retrieve the work site gear in the ATVs. In the meantime, various foremen and safety personnel get on the busses to tell us how we did and what general work habits they observed that were either exemplary or borderline dangerous. After what seems like a long time, the busses are loaded up. I make a mental note to bring something to read with me on future shifts. By 3 PM, we have arrived back at the staging location and have clocked out, the work day is over.

Overall, a very positive experience. The work is not back-breaking, but it is definitely back-aching - the sand can get heavy, especially after a rain shower. Yet, I am glad to be participating in the cleanup effort. I was lucky to be at a place in my life that made it easy to drop what I was doing and come to help out. There were times when I felt a little discouraged by the obstacles on the path to becoming qualified for this work. It's gratifying to have persevered and achieved the goal that I set for myself. And there are the bonuses: I'm making some new friends and enjoying my time living in the Ft Walton Beach area. I won't be doing this work for too long, but doing it makes me feel like I was able to help out my country in a time of need. And that has been worth more than all the rest of it.