Hrmm... Well, last night was actually remarkably decent, and I've eaten brunch today, so it looks like the high pressure system is taking a little bit of a chill pill.
But let's just take a look at the week so far...
This whole week has been spent counting, organizing, lining up, finding, recounting, washing and then lining everything up yet again.
As Field Command soldiers, our platoon has by far the most equipment of the entire company. This is unfortunately combined with a generally lackluster work ethic, and a tendency to test and re-test the office chairs to see if they're working properly (until the sergeant shows up and yells at us again).
Due to the vast amount of labor involved and the relatively slow pace we took doing it, we've been working a fairly extreme week... Monday was the standard overtime package, with the work day ending at around 6 in the evening.
Tuesday needed a bit of painting and such, so we had to keep going until 7:30.
Wednesday? Help out the other section of our platoon, which consists of even more slackasses than our own, with even bigger vehicles. Paint giant trucks until 9:05.
Thursday was extra special, because the other platoons had their inspection that day. This was also the day for a special award arrangement by the military: Walk 30 kilometers with 11 kilograms on your back in four and a half hours or less, and get a SHINY PIN!
This time around the event was actually voluntary. I pondered that day about whether it was lazier to sign up for a marathon like that to avoid working, or to keep working to avoid walking a marathon.
Regardless of walking or not, the day turned out to be a marathon in and of itself. Since the Transport section
still needed help with their trucks and were
still just as
under-staffed as they were before, a few from our section were picked out to head over and give them a hand. Again.
Since I didn't particularly feel like deciphering military equipment lists (which, by the way, are an unnatural phenomenon entirely unto themselves) and spending ages aligning large equipment just to shove it all two feet to the left ten minutes later, I made sure to position myself in the right location to be "randomly selected" for painting duty over with Transport.
Note that we'd had somewhat pissy weather for a while, including sleet, light rains, and snow (yes, snow. Aren't you familiar with those late-May snowstorms?). This means we can't paint outside. Also, the Most Holy Regulations of the Armed Forces of Norway says you can't paint inside without a gas mask. And Harald's Rule of Military Equipment ensured that there weren't enough of the higher quality and more comfortable painter's masks to go around.
What did this mean? Why, yes, it meant we all had to run back to the barracks and take out our full-protection personal hazard masks which are intended to protect us from chlorine gas and the likes.
I learned a few things about these masks on Thursday... First off, the rubber has a tendency to rub off on chin stubble, making a five o'clock shadow look like you've been eating asphalt. Second, wearing it for extended periods will cause condensation to build up in odd places and then leak out of the mask when you exhale, causing you to look like you're drooling
through the goddamn airvalve.
Third, wearing the dang thing for twelve hours straight can really make you wonder why the hell you're in this place to begin with.
Yes folks, since this was our last day to work and we absolutely had to have everything in top condition for Friday morning, we worked until midnight painting, cleaning, re-cleaning, re-re-cleaning, and painting some more. We had two thirty-minute breaks for meals, but that was essentially the only time spent not working. My feet, back and head were all fighting over who was most in agony by the time the day was out, and I was entirely too tired to try and crown a winner.
The slightly more irritating part was that not everyone was giving quite as much of their all as I was, thus presenting more work for me... I kept my mouth shut in regards to the people who'd just taken the 30,000 meter hooah, however. My logical self wondered why the heck they spent four and a half hours making themselves useless for the rest of the workday, but I guess lack of forethought is a bragging right of some sort... It's an impressive physical feat to go that marathon, no doubt about it, but I still think they could have waited until a better time than right there and then (especially seeing as the
obligatory 30km march is still in the future, and they still have to attend).
Friday was relatively decent... Started off with essentially all of the platoon's officers being busy or away, leaving us with one systems engineer who's only a sergeant because his position needs to have someone of that rank... He's never actually attended officer's school.
We started the day with two hours of "Personal User Equipment Review", A.K.A. "Count Your Socks", A.K.A. "We've Got Absolutely No Idea What To Do With You, But We'll Pretend We do Anyway". After that was supposed to be the other thing we do when they don't know what to do with us, namely run up a mountain. However, everyone was roused half an hour before mountain-jogging time because apparently we'd spent five days forgetting to clean and prep our vehicles for inspection. This was thirty minutes before the Big Boss was supposed to come down and check our things.
Time to run like mad with pink washcloths and soapy water.
We managed to get a bit of work done before we had to flee the scene, and the scrambled hour (turns out Lieutenant Colonels can be late for work too...) we spent washing cars got us out of the mountain run. We still had almost a couple hours before we were supposed to meet up again, and the sergeant finally gave in and dropped the image of pretending they knew what to use us for.
"Just do something useful" was the comment we received, a knowing grin plastered across his face. We agreed we would, and then wandered off to yell at each other about which color we wanted our military sweatshirts to be for forty minutes during an impromptu meeting.
Friday was also my first day with my secret alter-ego, AMAZING JESUS BOY! It was then, in the secret laboratory under the disturbingly-decorated military chapel that I consumed radioactive waffle mix and entered into a new reality. As I donned my cape of many colors to set out and bring spiritual evening snacks to the world, I reminded myself that "with great power, comes great irritability".
I learned that in order to accommodate the lovely mental combination of Christians and drafted soldiers, all equipment located in reach of the Priest Assistant is guaranteed idiot-proof. I was also instructed in the fastest and least thought-provoking method of mixing waffle batter.
The evening actually turned out rather well. We spent the period from 6-9 in the evening making coffee and waffles, eating coffee and waffles, admiring the group of student officer chicks that came in for coffee and waffles, and then watching a film. After that was a quick and basic clean-up, a quick and efficient lock-up, and then the not-particularly-long road home.
I asked the assistant who was there to show us the ropes what exactly the three full-assistant weekdays consisted of, as I'd had a little difficulty trying to work out how Monday Night Soccer and Friday Night Waffles could take up three days.
His short answer? "Chill."
My trepidation regarding this position is waning significantly... However, I will be introduced to the true test of my spiritual might tomorrow when I have to assist with the Sunday morning service. We shall soon see if my laziness is up to what is required of it...
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Topic: All I Want For Xmas is an HK416 (Read 74778 times)