This is not a porn blog, but I just got effed in the A with a giant D.

7/17/10


If you know you’re going to get screwed over, you can prepare for it. You can brace yourself, shut your eyes and wait for it. You’re mentally ready, so that it’s no surprise to you that, hey, you’re about to get effed in the A.

As many of my friends know, I’ve been working on cross-rating to MC since the opportunity for me to spearhead the Public Affairs program opened up in my last command. Thanks to my experience in journalism during my pre-Navy years, I had been doing pretty well. Even though I was denied the JO rate when I joined the Navy (due to my lack of American citizenship), I had high hopes that someday me and the printed press would one day be reunited in the loving arms of some Naval organization. The complacency and later love that I developed for my current engineer rating has evaporated after years of waiting for advancements that would never come.

In other words, it was time to move on.

So when I found out that I wouldn’t be doing customs inspections out here, but actually working for the Public Affairs Officer, I was more than elated. What better opportunity to display your journalism chops than out here, in the Middle East, where all the good stories are? Sure I had to deal with an undesirable base, a top-heavy command, and a place isolated from all my friends, but I chose it. Why? Because this was headquarters! Sure I would be traveling from base to base all the way up Iraq and maybe even Afghan, but it would definitely bring my journalism aspirations for the Navy to fruition!

I must admit, I was a bit sad upon leaving all my friends as we all scampered to our designated bases, but I was also a bit excited to be starting this job that was preselected for me.

And then we arrived to the new base. We were told it was at least 20 to 30 degrees cooler than Camp Virginia. It was 140 degrees. We were told there would be a barracks waiting for us as soon as we arrived. I’m living in a TENT. I was told I’d be doing public affairs. Nope, washrack for me.

In the daytime.

At 140 degrees.

I’ll be checking dirt. Not the kind of dirt you dig up for an awesome story that could potentially bring scandal and give you a book deal.

No, dirt.

On vehicles.

In the middle of the day.

At 140 degrees.

Well, shit. I think I just got effed in the A.