I've told you about the whole port and starboard duty thing. What has not been revealed in this space is that it applied to the long holiday weekend. Of the forty-one nuclear trained enlisted personnel on the Submersible Death Trap, only I had the pleasure and honor of standing two duty days. Everyone else - including people far less qualified than I - got at least two days off, and a few even had all three. It was the result of the confluence of three independent factors, and it left me in the lurch. That really does seem to be a familiar theme these days. I haven't resolved a couple of the details of this course of rape with the people involved, so I'm going to refrain from the gory details.
The expectation for my reaction to the situation may be worse. I'm getting doubly penetrated, taking a load in the butt and a load in the face, and they want me to come up from my knees, throw a smile on my face, and say, "thank you, sir, may I have another?" Why should I bother anymore? At this point, the only things I really care about are keeping a clean disciplinary record, and preserving and expanding my paycheck. I've often thought lately about the question asked of Jennifer Aniston's character in Office Space - "what do you think of someone who only does the bare minimum?" To that, the answer is clear: they're getting the job done, and the boss should step the fuck off.
I have even more reason than this to be absolutely fed up with Memphis. I can sum it up with four simple letters, expressed in the phonetic alphabet: Echo, Tango, Mike, Sierra. For those not familiar with the world of the nuke, that stands for Electronics Technician Maintenance School. It's a six-week course that nearly everyone on my specialty attends. The only reason I say "nearly" is because the SDT won't send me. I was totally supposed to go, back during the early part of our time in Portsmouth. BilgeMonkey was slated to go before me, but I would still get the school anyway. But our former fearless leader wanted to take leave last September, and that pushed off BilgeMonkey's school, and thus mine as well. I knew that I wouldn't attend ETMS between the first of the year and our departure from the Seacoast, but I still figured I'd get my shot. Not until a month ago was I told it wasn't to be. This move is something that could potentially affect my quality of life after I depart the Seagoing Military Force (in 357 days, of course). The school provides both valuable experience and college credit, two things that I'd love to have plenty of after I leave the Navy. This is an appropriate time to recall something I said here last month: "...understand that the government owns your ass for as long as you serve." It's time I expounded on that, by saying that the Navy only gives you what will benefit it in the long term. Since I've made it plain as day that I'm not staying in, the decision was made that I don't need the same schooling as everyone else. Yes, it might also be that I have a fairly important collateral duty. But now that we're back in Groton, that isn't nearly as important.
My palms and my ankles are really getting to know each other well. Infer what you will from that. Since I try to end on a positive note, I'll recall from earlier today my Chief's suggestion that I take some leave a bit later on this year. I'm going to swing for the fences and go for two full weeks off. I have no idea yet what I'm going to to with this time, but that's not a problem I have to deal with just now.