The other guy (a 28-year-old whose name I don’t remember) had started a drilling mud company. Drilling mud, made of Bentonite, is a kind of clay and comes in paper bags about the size of lawn fertilizer. It makes the well bore slick. Keeps the drill pipe from getting stuck. Both Mike and the “mud guy” wore Rolexes. The mud guy’s was gold. 14 karat, I think. Mike’s was stainless. I didn’t know the other three guys at the table. But I could tell from the small talk that one worked for a drilling company. He wore a gold Rolex. Not that cheap 14K gold, but solid 18K. The second was a young independent who started his own exploration company. No surprise, everyone had started their own exploration company in Oklahoma. He used the drilling guy to drill most of his wells. The independent didn’t wear a watch. Never trusted a guy without a watch. The last guy was a banker – a loan officer at Penn Square Bank. His name was Bill. He talked a good game. He was engaging. He was the guy you wanted to drink with. We ordered drinks before our lunch. Bill and I got scotch. Mike ordered Jack and Coke. The rest had martinis. (Things were different in corporate America back then.) The waitress brought the drinks and Bill toasted the table. Then without missing a beat, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out some legal papers. “Who needs money?” he asked. Who Needs Money?
The mud guy said things were moving so fast, he needed about $1 million to keep up. “It’s for inventory.”
Mike stayed quiet. After all, field guys bill day-work for a living. He drove a new F-150. He was set.
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