Helping Companies Rethink, Recover & Refocus on the Future

My name isn’t really Mike.
But if you work in the petrochemical industry on the Gulf Coast, you might have seen me. Maybe you’ve passed me in the control room, at the safety meeting, or in the break trailer. Maybe you already know me and don’t even realize it.

I thought this job would be the dream. I went to school, studied hard, listened when people told me that being an operator was one of the best gigs a young man could land. Steady pay, good benefits, respect in the community. For a while, I even bragged about it.

But most days, I sit behind a glowing screen for twelve miserable hours, listening to the same complaints from the same worn-down faces. The shift stretches on, the coffee goes cold, and the only thing keeping anyone awake is the constant hum of machinery. No one talks about teamwork or pride. The conversation is about how little you can do and still get by.

It’s strange. Everyone here makes more money than most of their friends and family. On paper, we’re “lucky.” But the money has become a curse. It’s just enough to trap us—too good to walk away from, not good enough to erase the emptiness.

I used to be an athlete. High school football, track, weights—I loved the grind, the challenge, the rush of giving my all. Back then, I believed hard work was its own reward. But here? Work harder and people glare at you. Speak up and you’re told to “slow down—you’re making the rest of us look bad.” What kind of team punishes its players for trying?

It’s not one person’s fault. It’s the culture. A system that quietly whispers: do the minimum, don’t rock the boat, don’t care too much. That whisper becomes the loudest voice in the room. And after a while, you start to believe it.

The culture is the villain.
And it’s winning. There is one exception...

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