Once upon a time I got into an argument with some knobhead at some executive dinner that I had reluctantly attended due to good will to my ex-wife and all that. To be fair I had been getting on quite well with Mr Knob. We were seated next to each other and the evening had been fair but passable until he asked me what I did for a living.
I told him that I worked in offshore oil & gas.
For some reason this didn’t go down so well, the reason being that he was a knob. He got all uppity and condescending, and began preaching to me that I worked in a horrible industry and how could I live with myself and a bunch of other putdowns and insults, all delivered with a supercilious smirk. It took all my control not to punch in his smug face.

‘Look around this room’, I said to him. We were on the top floor of one of the best hotels in Melbourne. The view was spectacular and we were in the best room of the establishment. There were around a hundred guests seated at large round tables enjoying delicious tidbits and copious amounts of expensive booze in anticipation of what would prove to be a handsome meal.
‘What do you see?’
He mentioned the obvious ad then I told him that he was incorrect. He smirked and inquired as to the correct answer.
‘The correct answer,’ I said with rising annoyance, ‘is petroleum. Just about everything that you see in this room is made from petroleum. The furniture, the lights, the energy for the lights and the heating, everything in this room comes from what we get out of the ground three miles under the ocean floor. The entire hotel is made from petroleum.’
He smirked again.
‘Your clothes are made from petroleum. So is your phone, your hair gel, and the toothpaste that you used to brush your teeth. As well as your deodorant, the car that you came here in, your glasses, and your watch. In fact, the average Australian uses over 200 petroleum products by the times they arrive at work every day.’
He smirked some more in his total ignorance and then made some more disparaging comments about what I was saying. At that point I told him that he was a fuckwit and we refused to speak to each other for the rest of the evening. His wife and mine were best friends. Oops.
This very article was made possible for you to read because of petroleum. You’re welcome.

Or even better, how about this wonderful video?

Keep in mind that this took him 103 days. That’s life without petroleum.

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