Every military organization copes with something euphemistically described as “turbulence” – basically, it means “personnel turnover,” troops rotating out and their replacements rotating in. Now, a military unit has to deal with that fairly continuously, and each unit will assign a sponsor to each incoming troop in order to get him (okay, or her – sheesh) adjusted, settled, and functioning as rapidly as possible. The sponsor usually gets billeting squared away first to give the New Kid an anchor, then hand-carries him (or her -- all right, already) through the inprocessing ritual of personnel, finance, supply, arms room, etc.
Well, us mercenary war-profiteering contractor parasites usually don’t go through much personnel turbulence (unless the contract is a real sourball – some guys just can’t stick it out and they bail), because the contract is usually short enough that everyone rotates in and exits together.
Except for the multi-year ones. We’re in the last year of a multi-year, and guys have been departing as their individual contracts expire, or just go on leave. Then we get New Kids. And the New Kid requires a sponsor, or he (or she – that’s it, enough!) would spend the first week or so over here just trying to figure out where to find a crash pad.
Well, our Chief Problem Solver took leave, and we got a New Kid to cover down. I got tagged with being the sponsor.
No problem setting up transportation from the terminal, or getting billeting – did that a week ago. So, New Kid arrives yesterday, full of questions, and I answer them during all the New Kid Trots Alongside Sponsor Stuff.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NK: “What’s the real story about camel spiders?”
Me: “Forget every horror story you may have heard. They’re not aggressive towards people, and they’ll run up walls trying to get away from you. If they run towards you, they’re either looking to hide in your shadow or you’re blocking their escape route.”
NK: “How big are they?”
Me: “Biggest one I’ve seen so far was only about the size of a CD. Not counting the legs.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NK: “How about Kurdistani vipers?”
Me: “Well, we’ve got four different types of vipers up here, but they’re pretty much nocturnal and with the weather turning cooler, they won’t be active at night. Same with scorpions – we’ve got some real baddies here, so don’t go lifting up any interesting-looking boards or cinderblocks. Nearest antivenin is in Baghdad, and if you get stung by a crassicauda or a hottentota, you might not live long enough for a medevac. I’ll show you what they look like – the medics have a couple in formaldehyde.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NK: “How about incoming? What’re my chances of getting hit?”
Me: “If you hear the klaxon, just drop in place. Forget about listening for the ‘Incoming! Incoming! Incoming!’ warning – just drop. And I’ve been here almost three years and they haven’t killed me yet.”
Note that I phrased that last sentence very precisely…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, New Kid will only be here for a few weeks, so The Boss said, “You stick with Bill the whole time you’re here – anything comes up, he’ll solve it.”
Just. Great.
I don’t already have enough to do, apparently.
But, that’s not NK’s fault, so we threw a cookout meet-and-greet last night, and everybody’s more than happy NK is here to help with the workload.
*tsk* My bad -- forgot my manners.
Meet the New Kid...
...and she looks just as good from the front...
...and I'm old enough to be her grandfather, so you can just forget about those snarky little asides, m'kay?
Yeah, as if your next stop *isn't* gonna be the comment box...
Well, us mercenary war-profiteering contractor parasites usually don’t go through much personnel turbulence (unless the contract is a real sourball – some guys just can’t stick it out and they bail), because the contract is usually short enough that everyone rotates in and exits together.
Except for the multi-year ones. We’re in the last year of a multi-year, and guys have been departing as their individual contracts expire, or just go on leave. Then we get New Kids. And the New Kid requires a sponsor, or he (or she – that’s it, enough!) would spend the first week or so over here just trying to figure out where to find a crash pad.
Well, our Chief Problem Solver took leave, and we got a New Kid to cover down. I got tagged with being the sponsor.
No problem setting up transportation from the terminal, or getting billeting – did that a week ago. So, New Kid arrives yesterday, full of questions, and I answer them during all the New Kid Trots Alongside Sponsor Stuff.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NK: “What’s the real story about camel spiders?”
Me: “Forget every horror story you may have heard. They’re not aggressive towards people, and they’ll run up walls trying to get away from you. If they run towards you, they’re either looking to hide in your shadow or you’re blocking their escape route.”
NK: “How big are they?”
Me: “Biggest one I’ve seen so far was only about the size of a CD. Not counting the legs.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NK: “How about Kurdistani vipers?”
Me: “Well, we’ve got four different types of vipers up here, but they’re pretty much nocturnal and with the weather turning cooler, they won’t be active at night. Same with scorpions – we’ve got some real baddies here, so don’t go lifting up any interesting-looking boards or cinderblocks. Nearest antivenin is in Baghdad, and if you get stung by a crassicauda or a hottentota, you might not live long enough for a medevac. I’ll show you what they look like – the medics have a couple in formaldehyde.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NK: “How about incoming? What’re my chances of getting hit?”
Me: “If you hear the klaxon, just drop in place. Forget about listening for the ‘Incoming! Incoming! Incoming!’ warning – just drop. And I’ve been here almost three years and they haven’t killed me yet.”
Note that I phrased that last sentence very precisely…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, New Kid will only be here for a few weeks, so The Boss said, “You stick with Bill the whole time you’re here – anything comes up, he’ll solve it.”
Just. Great.
I don’t already have enough to do, apparently.
But, that’s not NK’s fault, so we threw a cookout meet-and-greet last night, and everybody’s more than happy NK is here to help with the workload.
*tsk* My bad -- forgot my manners.
Meet the New Kid...
...and she looks just as good from the front...
...and I'm old enough to be her grandfather, so you can just forget about those snarky little asides, m'kay?
Yeah, as if your next stop *isn't* gonna be the comment box...
Yeah, first boom was this morning, Pogue. NK did fine -- even asked me how far away I thought it hit while she dusted off her jeans.
Then she showed up.
And I wasn't allowed to gripe any more.
}:-]
Tomorrow, I turn her loose on an unsuspecting bunch of contractors.
She also carries one of those gazillion-decibel "attack-repellers," btw. She fried my ears with it while she was trying to get the flashlight function to work...
Heh, as if.
0>:~}
Oh excuse me...besides being a recruiting poster for the contractor, what is her specialty? She's not a mechanic for your whirrleydoodle birds, is she?
Is she allowed to carry a gun? I'm sure there are plenty of guys who will carry it for her.
Just as shocked as I am to find lizards in the sim bays every friggin' morning...
But if you do and you don't film it ... it's over for me and Bill posts.
Yup. Works.
I can't judge, though. I, too, can appreciate a fine looking member of the opposite sex. :)
Always pulling the short straw.....
BCR: People of Walmart??? Oh, you are a cruel mistress.... which is why I love you.
Oh. "Straw."
Never mind.
He'll call it anything.....as long as it doesn't have the word *short* in front of it.
0>;~}
The eldest partially recovered enough to mumble 'brain bleach' before he went silent again. We are hoping 'The Sound of Music' and 'Mary Poppins', as well as 'Peter Pan' will help in the therapy.
And for your eldest, I would rather suggest something along the lines of the Women's Beach Volleyball Championships. You don't want him getting teh diabeetus, do you? (Mary Poppins? I'm evil, but that's just downright mean!)
His wife taught me how to play the recorder with the method she wrote.
Sadly, her husband was like Ashley Wilkes; valiant in war, and hopeless in business.