Monday, January 10, 2011
A Promotion of Sorts
I also had my new car which made things a blast in the winter where I'd be able to drive to the mess and eat instead of hoofing it across spans of snowy flatland like a prime target for some NCO with a chip on his shoulder. I could even turn a couple bucks here-and-there driving guys to the liquor store or local PX (CANEX is Canada) which is basically the base corner store that sold pretty much everything (furniture, TVs, clothing, etc.). Now it might seem bad that I made money doing this but the money was usually from guys I didn't like too much cause I did it for my friends for free. Also, if guys wanted to go downtown it was a one hour drive round trip so it did take a hit on my gas gauge. Plus everyone had an expendable income cause there wasn't much to do other than drink, fight, or try to pickup local girls. The mature guys with their head on straight already lived in the military condos away from us young guys. So our barracks was pretty much a frat house only cleaner.
Anyways, we show up for our first day and it's business as usual with role call over and the great debate of what movie we were going to watch until lunch. Ha ha, it's funny how this was the highlight of the workday back then. So we finally decide on something we probably seen before but it kept us quiet. Soon enough I get whispered that I'm wanted in the office. Sure enough the alarm bells start going off on what I might have done or have yet to get caught for (sex with some chick in the shacks, drinking in the shacks, or just being messy). But none of those had happened recently so I was kind of at a loss for what the reason was. I justified that my name probably got picked to go on some tasking to move office furniture or other work.
So I presented myself at the doorway which is custom in the military and pronounced my presence with my rank, last name, and serial number. It's more of a tradition than practical as he was the one who called me there. But I was ushered in by the clerk to the Warrants desk. The first thing I noticed was all the papers and calendars and printed emails on his desk. This place was actually pretty busy when you get past the room full of teens watching movies. The Warrant Officer looked up at me and we had a conversation somewhat like this (I forget the actual one cause it happened so long ago):
"Private Tango" He said.
"Yes Warrant" I replied.
"You seem to have gotten used to things around here and don't fuck up too much."
"Yes Warrant I try" Is all I could manage to say.
"Good. And from your file I can see you're pretty smart. That's why I'm making you a section commander here in the platoon." Now I was hit with a couple verbal debates. One I couldn't admit I'm smart because any sign of ego in the military is seen as a number one target to any authority who like their subordinates just as that. Subordinate. So I asked another question burning in the back of my mind.
"I'd be glad to Warrant. But doesn't my course start in a month? I doubt I'd be much help only having a month." Yes, I tried to snake my way out of it. Because controlling these retards is the equivalent of trying to herd cats.
"Nope. The course has been pushed back till April. So you'll have plenty of time" He said Bluntly.
"Umm, ok then. I guess I can then." What was I to do, his mind was set. And arguing that you're too lazy to do it was an invitation for the worst jobs and taskings for the rest of my stint. Might as well go along.
"Good. James will show you what to do." He finished there and went back to his work.
I kinda wondered out of the office in a daze for a bit. I'd meet with James after lunch, right now I had to digest what had just happened.