Jennifer Mycon

If I'm being honest about what's carried me through 12 years in a technically demanding, male-dominated industry, it comes down to two things: great mentors and the willingness to be coached.

I didn't come into oil and gas with an engineering degree or industry connections. I came in curious, hardworking, and humble enough to know I had a lot to learn. The inspectors who took me under their wing didn't have to invest in me — but they did. They answered my questions on 12-hour field days, walked me through drawings, explained the why behind the paperwork, and treated me like someone worth developing. That changed everything.

What I've come to believe is that mentorship isn't a soft concept — it's a business-critical one. In industries like oil and gas and energy, so much knowledge lives in people, not in manuals. It gets passed down through relationships, through someone deciding another person is worth their time. When that stops happening, the knowledge stops transferring — and the industry starts losing something it can't get back.

I carry that forward by being the kind of colleague who explains things, who answers questions without making someone feel small for asking, and who remembers what it felt like to be new. The industry gave me something invaluable. Paying it forward isn't just the right thing to do — it's how we keep the whole thing moving.

One of the best pieces of advice I've ever received is deceptively simple: every offer is negotiable.

It sounds obvious when you say it out loud, but for a lot of us — especially early in our careers, especially women — accepting what's handed to us feels safer than asking for more. We don't want to seem ungrateful. We don't want to lose the offer. We've been conditioned to be glad we were chosen at all.

But here's what I've learned: employers expect negotiation. The first offer is rarely the final one. And negotiation isn't just about salary — that's where most people stop, and it's where so much is left on the table. PTO, flexible scheduling, remote work options, professional development budgets, signing bonuses, title adjustments — these are all part of the package, and many of them can be moved even when the base number can't.

I've seen colleagues walk away from offers that were actually closer to what they wanted than they realized, simply because they didn't know they could ask. And I've seen others — including myself — secure more than the original offer just by being willing to have a calm, confident conversation.

You don't have to be aggressive. You don't have to have a perfect script. You just have to be willing to ask — and to know that the worst answer you'll get is "no," which puts you right back where you started. The ask itself costs nothing. What you don't ask for, you almost certainly won't receive.

I would pass the same advice onto the next generation of women as stated above.

One of the biggest challenges I see in my field is one that doesn't get talked about enough: the persistent undervaluation of Document Control by the people at the top.

Document Control is not a clerical function. It is the backbone of how a project tracks its own history, maintains compliance, and protects itself legally and operationally. And yet, time and again, it's treated as an afterthought — something to bring in once things get complicated, rather than a foundational layer that should be present from day one.

The most costly mistake I see Project Managers make is looping in a Document Controller only after the project has already descended into chaos. By that point, documents are scattered, naming conventions are inconsistent, revision histories are a mess, and the DC is being asked to build a plane that's already in the air. What could have been a clean, well-structured system from the start becomes an expensive, time-consuming rescue operation — and ironically, it's often framed as a cost-saving measure to delay bringing that role on board.

The math doesn't hold up. Bringing Document Control in during pre-planning costs a fraction of what it takes to untangle a project mid-stream. A DC embedded early establishes naming conventions, filing structures, document workflows, and compliance checkpoints before there are hundreds — or thousands — of documents to retroactively organize. That's not overhead. That's infrastructure.

Until leadership starts treating Document Control as a pre-construction essential rather than a reactive hire, projects will keep paying the price — in time, in budget, and in the kind of compliance gaps that don't surface until the worst possible moment. The role deserves a seat at the table from the very first planning meeting. Not as an afterthought. As a foundation.

At the core of everything I do — professionally and personally — are a handful of values I keep coming back to, no matter the industry, the role, or the season of life I'm in.

The first is mentorship and investing in people. My entire career exists because someone chose to invest in me when they didn't have to. That kind of generosity changes lives, and I don't take it lightly. I carry it forward by showing up as the kind of colleague who explains things patiently, who makes space for questions, and who remembers what it felt like to be new to something. I believe that knowledge shared is never knowledge lost.

Closely tied to that is coachability — a value I hold just as much for myself as I encourage in others. Staying open to feedback, to growth, and to being wrong has been one of the most professionally liberating choices I've made. The moment we decide we already know enough is the moment we stop becoming.

I also place tremendous value on integrity in my work. Document control, at its core, is about accuracy, accountability, and protecting the truth of what happened on a project. That requires a standard of care that doesn't cut corners, even when no one is watching. I bring that same standard to everything I do — if my name is on it, it's right.

And perhaps most personally: I believe in the power of relationships. My career has been built on them. The opportunities I've found, the transitions I've navigated, the bridges I've crossed from one industry to the next — almost all of it came through people who knew me, trusted me, and thought of me when it mattered. Showing up consistently, being someone people can count on, and nurturing those connections over time isn't just a professional strategy. It's who I am.

In my personal life, those same values show up in how I approach my health, my finances, and my future. I'm intentional. I ask questions. I do the research. And I'm not afraid to negotiate — for what I need, what I've earned, and where I'm going.