Saturday, May 26, 2007
Betrayed!
My aunt and uncle just brought home their new baby, Abby. They already have a little girl, Raven, who's two years old. Raven is cute as a bug and daddy's little girl. She's been okay with the baby--so far. As long as daddy's not paying too much attention to Abby. My aunt was telling me that the other night, Raven walked into the room while her dad was holding Abby and the look on her face was one of utter dismay. Raven said, "Oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy. OH, DADDY!" She threw herself on the floor like a mackerel flopping around the bottom of a canoe. It was such a terrible betrayal. She thought she was the one and only. She'll get over it. Especially when she finds out how fun and useful younger siblings can be.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Exercise CHARLIE FOXTROT
Have you ever sat at your desk after lunch in your mid-afternoon torpor and pondered the great mysteries of life? You may ruminate on such weighty questions as...
How do they get the ship inside the bottle?
What causes the skin to form on top of pudding?
And the $64,000 question...
Why are mission support personnel always so perpetually pissed off?
I'm supposed to leave for this big exercise next week. I was actually looking forward to it--until Friday. It started when I walked in the door. The exercise is on hold, they told me. The MAJCOM realized they have no money. We all know the ideal time to realize this would be fiscally challenging is right when everybody going out the door. Finally, they decided we could go after all, but they were cutting the number of people they would send in half to save money.
So, in another attempt at saving money they decided to change the per diem that people would get. Initially, everyone would get partial per diem while a lucky few the full per diem. I'm not sure how they arrived at who would get what. I'm starting to suspect they're using a magic eight ball because they changed it so that now most everyone would get full per diem, except for a few who would get completely screwed, one of them being yours truly. The aircrew would get full per diem because they won't be around to use the meal card except for every other day. Oh yeah, they do get meals from the flight kitchen, so they're still getting free food AND full per diem even though they'll be around to use the chow hall every other day.
If the MAJCOM was so desperate to save money, wouldn't it make more sense to just give everybody the partial per diem? Evidently, it's good enough for the other squadron that we'll be flying with. Another way they decided to save money was to cut the number of intel personnel they would send. The initial plan was to send two intel people--one from each squadron. Now, they're just sending one who will do all the work for two squadrons. I'll be the extremely fortunate individual who will get to work 16 hour days, back to back for two straight weeks. If I'm lucky (and it's a distinct possibility that I will be--this is AWACS after all) the jets will break the minute we land.
How do they get the ship inside the bottle?
What causes the skin to form on top of pudding?
And the $64,000 question...
Why are mission support personnel always so perpetually pissed off?
I'm supposed to leave for this big exercise next week. I was actually looking forward to it--until Friday. It started when I walked in the door. The exercise is on hold, they told me. The MAJCOM realized they have no money. We all know the ideal time to realize this would be fiscally challenging is right when everybody going out the door. Finally, they decided we could go after all, but they were cutting the number of people they would send in half to save money.
So, in another attempt at saving money they decided to change the per diem that people would get. Initially, everyone would get partial per diem while a lucky few the full per diem. I'm not sure how they arrived at who would get what. I'm starting to suspect they're using a magic eight ball because they changed it so that now most everyone would get full per diem, except for a few who would get completely screwed, one of them being yours truly. The aircrew would get full per diem because they won't be around to use the meal card except for every other day. Oh yeah, they do get meals from the flight kitchen, so they're still getting free food AND full per diem even though they'll be around to use the chow hall every other day.
If the MAJCOM was so desperate to save money, wouldn't it make more sense to just give everybody the partial per diem? Evidently, it's good enough for the other squadron that we'll be flying with. Another way they decided to save money was to cut the number of intel personnel they would send. The initial plan was to send two intel people--one from each squadron. Now, they're just sending one who will do all the work for two squadrons. I'll be the extremely fortunate individual who will get to work 16 hour days, back to back for two straight weeks. If I'm lucky (and it's a distinct possibility that I will be--this is AWACS after all) the jets will break the minute we land.
Little Miss Perfect
If you're familiar with the comic strip Baby Blues, you know that Wanda McPherson has a nemesis named Bunny. Bunny is supermom. Bunny can squeeze out kids, whip up souffles, keep the house spotless and still manage to look beautiful. She's also oblivious to the fact that Wanda can't stand her.
I have a Bunny in my life, a coworker as it so happens, only she doesn't have Bunny's charm and she doesn't pretend to be friendly. I'll call her "Bambi". At least she's in another squadron so, I don't work with her every day. She's uber-competent and uber-organized. She runs marathons, eats a perfectly balanced diet, and for the icing on the cake, she used to be in beauty pageants. I haven't seen her house, but I'm sure that's perfect too. She doesn't have a cat that pukes on the carpet in 17 places after eating the dog's food and it's probably organized like a Real Simple magazine. She's the type that will probably separate in a few years after the first baby comes along and make a mint being an Arbonne International consultant.
My dislike began at the end of my last deployment. She was the officer taking my place. The second she stepped off the jet, she was snippy and dismissive and acted like she was barely tolerating my presence. I tried to show her the folder and template for writing a mission report. Bambi cut me off saying she already knew how to write one. The next day she needed my help writing the mission report. She managed to cop the attitude until I left. Every request I made was met with a heavy sigh. Before she got to the FOL, I had called her to make sure she had everything in order and if she needed anything. I suggested that when she got here, maybe we could go for dinner or something. She bluntly told me, "I already have friends."
Well, screw you too. You'd think what with all Bambi's training to be Miss America, she might have picked up some social graces somewhere along the way. I guess charm school wasn't on the agenda. I expressed my irritation with the deployed DO on my way out the door. He said she didn't have any idea what she was doing.
It's not that I resent the fact that she's so together and disciplined. Nobody's holding a gun to my head making me eat jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and I could always organize my house instead of watching Corner Gas reruns. It's just that she's so uppity--like people don't meet her standards. Hell, people are people. Everybody has some kind of vice. Even Bambi. Now to find the chink in her armor.
I have a Bunny in my life, a coworker as it so happens, only she doesn't have Bunny's charm and she doesn't pretend to be friendly. I'll call her "Bambi". At least she's in another squadron so, I don't work with her every day. She's uber-competent and uber-organized. She runs marathons, eats a perfectly balanced diet, and for the icing on the cake, she used to be in beauty pageants. I haven't seen her house, but I'm sure that's perfect too. She doesn't have a cat that pukes on the carpet in 17 places after eating the dog's food and it's probably organized like a Real Simple magazine. She's the type that will probably separate in a few years after the first baby comes along and make a mint being an Arbonne International consultant.
My dislike began at the end of my last deployment. She was the officer taking my place. The second she stepped off the jet, she was snippy and dismissive and acted like she was barely tolerating my presence. I tried to show her the folder and template for writing a mission report. Bambi cut me off saying she already knew how to write one. The next day she needed my help writing the mission report. She managed to cop the attitude until I left. Every request I made was met with a heavy sigh. Before she got to the FOL, I had called her to make sure she had everything in order and if she needed anything. I suggested that when she got here, maybe we could go for dinner or something. She bluntly told me, "I already have friends."
Well, screw you too. You'd think what with all Bambi's training to be Miss America, she might have picked up some social graces somewhere along the way. I guess charm school wasn't on the agenda. I expressed my irritation with the deployed DO on my way out the door. He said she didn't have any idea what she was doing.
It's not that I resent the fact that she's so together and disciplined. Nobody's holding a gun to my head making me eat jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and I could always organize my house instead of watching Corner Gas reruns. It's just that she's so uppity--like people don't meet her standards. Hell, people are people. Everybody has some kind of vice. Even Bambi. Now to find the chink in her armor.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
World's Meanest Boss
This morning I had to be the bearer of bad tidings. I told my troops they couldn't take the day off to go play paintball. One of the other squadrons is having a paintball tournament. Of course for our squadron this is still a workday. They looked like people who just found out Neil Diamond would be opening for Jimi Hendrix. They were so glum.
They didn't seem to understand why I wouldn't let them leave in the middle of the workday for a squadron activity of a squadron we're not even a part of. What irritates me is that I have to drag them kicking and screaming by the hair to our own squadron functions. They're like stray cats--they won't come out unless somebody sets out food. Then they load up a plate and hurriedly
slink back to the vault so they won't have to socialize.
They didn't seem to understand why I wouldn't let them leave in the middle of the workday for a squadron activity of a squadron we're not even a part of. What irritates me is that I have to drag them kicking and screaming by the hair to our own squadron functions. They're like stray cats--they won't come out unless somebody sets out food. Then they load up a plate and hurriedly
slink back to the vault so they won't have to socialize.
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