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.
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