One more fine moron on a power-trip to deal with.
So, since last Feb, I have been stuck on an IA to GTMO in Glorious Republic Of Cubastan. They house us in long rows of pre-built "barracks" that are more or less fancy garden sheds with a sink and shared toilet and shower.
These "blocks" aren't to bad.
I'm grateful I'm not on one of the "party" blocks where everyone's idea of a good time is to be loud and get plastered. However, at this point, I'm glad I'm leaving in less than two months.
The enlisted junior Army guys that were down at the other end of the block moved out recently. Apparently their replacements are a bunch of cocknobs.
I went to the end tonight to go switch out my laundry and saw some people moving a wooden picnic table down on that end. Something to the tune of the following takes place:
J: Myself
M: Entitled Moron
J: (Trying for a light hearted, joking tone.) "Finally swiping the table now that the Army guys are gone?"
M: "Yeah- I'm the new block Captain and can do what I want!"
J: "It's alright, I was just joking."
M: "What Room are you IN?!!"
J: (Vaguely Indicating) "I'm down at the other end over there."
M: "Oh, well you worry about your end and let me deal with this one!"
J: (Trying to introduce myself) "I'm IS1 Lowth-"
M: "Well I'M MAC (Heavy emphasis on the C) *An MA is a Navy Cop and C is Chief*
J: (Trying to abruptly change tactics.) "Heh, however it goes, I'm not really caring to much about the block. My year is almost up and I'm leaving in a couple months."
M: "Where do you work? JTF? JF?"
J: "Eh? JTF-JIG"
M: "Well you need to spend time in the camps!"
J: "I'm working there pretty regularly actually."
M: "Well I'm there daily!"
.......... More of the same.
At that point, I just walked off.
I don't give a flying blank who the fuckanut you are.
I don't care that you're a Chief. I don't care that you work some all intense, 16 hour daily schedule.
All I was trying to do was engage in general conversation and somewhere along the way you decided to play "I'M CAPTAIN POWERTRIP THE PISSANT!"
I can only pray that dumbass McGee was drunk.
If not? Then great, just what my Navy needs, yet another, balding, short, pissy asshole with a chip on their shoulder.
I know I've been down here for to long away from my wife when I keep having to mentally reign in the desire to respond to any and all slights, real or imagined, by punching the pasty tar out of said person until they've stopped twitching.
I mean seriously! I've gone through the ranks same as anyone else and try to carry myself accordingly. Making Chief, or Captain, or whatever, is not an excuse to act like a tard.
As it's late and I'm still waiting for my laundry, I'm going to thank you guys for letting me vent.
So, since last Feb, I have been stuck on an IA to GTMO in Glorious Republic Of Cubastan. They house us in long rows of pre-built "barracks" that are more or less fancy garden sheds with a sink and shared toilet and shower.
These "blocks" aren't to bad.
I'm grateful I'm not on one of the "party" blocks where everyone's idea of a good time is to be loud and get plastered. However, at this point, I'm glad I'm leaving in less than two months.
The enlisted junior Army guys that were down at the other end of the block moved out recently. Apparently their replacements are a bunch of cocknobs.
I went to the end tonight to go switch out my laundry and saw some people moving a wooden picnic table down on that end. Something to the tune of the following takes place:
J: Myself
M: Entitled Moron
J: (Trying for a light hearted, joking tone.) "Finally swiping the table now that the Army guys are gone?"
M: "Yeah- I'm the new block Captain and can do what I want!"
J: "It's alright, I was just joking."
M: "What Room are you IN?!!"
J: (Vaguely Indicating) "I'm down at the other end over there."
M: "Oh, well you worry about your end and let me deal with this one!"
J: (Trying to introduce myself) "I'm IS1 Lowth-"
M: "Well I'M MAC (Heavy emphasis on the C) *An MA is a Navy Cop and C is Chief*
J: (Trying to abruptly change tactics.) "Heh, however it goes, I'm not really caring to much about the block. My year is almost up and I'm leaving in a couple months."
M: "Where do you work? JTF? JF?"
J: "Eh? JTF-JIG"
M: "Well you need to spend time in the camps!"
J: "I'm working there pretty regularly actually."
M: "Well I'm there daily!"
.......... More of the same.
At that point, I just walked off.
I don't give a flying blank who the fuckanut you are.
I don't care that you're a Chief. I don't care that you work some all intense, 16 hour daily schedule.
All I was trying to do was engage in general conversation and somewhere along the way you decided to play "I'M CAPTAIN POWERTRIP THE PISSANT!"
I can only pray that dumbass McGee was drunk.
If not? Then great, just what my Navy needs, yet another, balding, short, pissy asshole with a chip on their shoulder.
I know I've been down here for to long away from my wife when I keep having to mentally reign in the desire to respond to any and all slights, real or imagined, by punching the pasty tar out of said person until they've stopped twitching.
I mean seriously! I've gone through the ranks same as anyone else and try to carry myself accordingly. Making Chief, or Captain, or whatever, is not an excuse to act like a tard.
As it's late and I'm still waiting for my laundry, I'm going to thank you guys for letting me vent.
Comment