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DIVER STORY: That was just wrong….

September 24, 2017

Story submitted by community member Jake Heckman. Thanks, Jake!

Post Katrina and Rita work for Chevron on the Mighty Uncle John, was grueling at times. Non-stop bell runs for years. We grew barnacles on the bell an inch long. One of the greatest supervisors ever Mr. Moe was constantly trying to get a rise out of us divers, making the job seem as bad as he could with miss leading statements like “I know your times up, but we are sending you the jet hose and need you to work over.” Or “sorry, but hot water is out and the showers are going to be cold till we get some parts out”. It was all good fun, but we had to get him back.

After 27 days in the can we unwrapped the last of our mini snickers. Dug the corn out of the mixed veggies. Bagged them up and ordered coffee and a bag of ice. We melted the mixture with the coffee, by wrapping the bag around the stainless pot. Molded the perfect turd, and hardened it with the ice. During bell checks, Kieth

Photo courtesy of community member Vector Spain

mentioned that he had to go, but could wait till we hit bottom. On the way down we were placing bets on who would win the corn race. I lucked out and hooked up my bailout, while Kieth got checks on standby. The timing couldn’t have been better. As I dropped down under the bell I asked Moe to have Kieth hand me my knives I left in the bell. Moe relayed this to Kieth. Kieth says hold on I’m taking a $#it. At this very moment, my hand is reaching towards the trunk, “All Stop” Moe responded, and splash a snickers bomb lands right in my hands. I snatch it up and start playing with it. Moe is so distraught he can’t speak. He is trying to, but all he can let out is a long “HEeeeeee…” then click the mic goes dead. This happens several times, all the while I’m commenting on how Kieth won the corn race in less than 12 hours, and his turd is hard as a rock. After minutes of trying to talk, Moe finally gets a “myyy for fffface hurts” out. “Then that was wrong” “you’re messed up”.
My response was:

“I a Scat I mean Sat diver and I ain’t scared of $#it.”

Years later we finally got a new supervisor and instead of forgetting my knives I forgot my gloves. Bare hands are better for this prank.

 

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