As the Polygon Turns: The Line of Duty (Episode 5)

08 SEP
Friday afternoon Face and the Colonel decided that the best way to employ me this week would be for me to go to a working group in the NMCC. Face and #1 are in Tampa this week at SOUTHCOM, so I was going to go and sit in with this other new guy JP (an Army dude). This was all decided upon after we had parted ways with JP, however, so the latter wasn't exactly in the know. You may not think that this fact was important because we 2 are independent people, and although we are both FNGs, we are not lemmings. But, hello? Remember, my badge doesn't have all of the necessary codes and stripes on it yet, so I just can't go bopping about wherever I please. Funny that on Friday JP was joking that they should affix a leash to me like you see on so many todlders these days. "Why doesn't somebody put a frickin' leash on him!?" (Dr. Evil's voice)

Anyway, so JP wasn't expecting that he would have company Monday. I enquired of Face where to meet up with JP on Monday, should I meet him in the office, at what time?

"If I were JP, I would not come in until 1230, and meet up with you guys outside teh access to the NMCC." Okay great. So I asked him how to get there, and he said, "you know that escalator ouside our office? Take it down to the basement and wander around and ask someone for directions." Hmmm. Okay. Great directions. Thanks, Dude.

So, based on these hugely reliable pieces of information spoken by a man who'd had a couple of beers on a Friday afternoon, I made my plans for this morning (look, I wasn't really thinking, as Mike Birbiglia would say: "I am in the future too!") I planned on taking the 0925 bus from my house (I know, rough life), arriving at the Polygon at 1016, going to the PAC, swimming for an hour, showering and changing for the next 30 minutes, snacking for the duration after that until about 12 minutes till 1230... You get the idea.

At 0917, I left my house to go to my bus stop. Russ was washing windows outside, so I said goodbye to him, having already executed the more ceremonial kiss goodbye 20 minutes earlier. When I said goodbye to him, the Mexicans across the street loading the neighboor's extra junk said "hello" to me. So that was a little awkward, but I said "Hello" back anyway. After that pleasant little exchange, I proceeded to wait at my bus stop from 0918 to 0946. Crazy! How can a bus be this late? Every time a piece of public transportation is late, I recall a quote from an anonymous Italian during Mussolinni's reign when asked what he thought of the Italian Facist dictator: "Well, the trains are always on time." --only he said it in Italian. Hmmm.

I went back to the house and got Russ to bring me to work. I was in the pool by 1030 flat. Sparing you the boring details, suffice it to say that I naturally kept my aforementioned schedule to the T, got some pretty darn good directions to the NMCC and was pacing outside post #8 entrance to the National Military Command Center (Oh, that is what that stands for!) by 3 minutes 'till 1230. And there I waited... until 1255. Absolutely ludicrous! Just as all hope of seeing JP drained from my little heart, I overheard someone telling someone else that there are many posts leading to the NMCC. Crappers, I'll bet that all this time I have been waiting outside the wrong one.

Dejected and ashamed of my repeated failure to be at my appointed places of duty, I went up to the office that I can't get into or work in unattended, and I called big Tony to let me in. He did. I signed in. He countersigned. Then I went to the Colonel's office to apologize for being such a dumb-ass. He gracefully accepted my apology: "Well, you know, stuff happens." Spoken like an Army Ranger. I went back to the front of the office and wrote a note to JP, explaining the situation and telling him to call me later so we could sort out tomorrow. Then I went back to Tony's corner of the office so he could keep me company and I could check my email. One of the first emails that I opened up was marked "High Priority" (don't you love it when the people who send you emails think they get to determine your priorities?). It was from a Navy chief who worked in the J1. Ah, the J1, the glorious J1, the mothership of all administration offices! PSC Perez had sent this email at 0745 telling me that I had a "MANDATORY MILITARY APPOINTMENT," that I was to report between the hours of 0900-1100 and that my appointment should take approximately 1 hour. I was further instructed that I had to bring my Military ID and that the particulars would be made clear to me when I showed up. Holy crap! I missed another appointment! And this one sounded like a BIG one! It was like a Mission Impossible appointment! "...the particulars will be made clear to me when I show up..." And I MISSED IT. Man, I am in for it now! Instead of voicing my patent dread, I said to Tony, "can you believe the nerve of the J1? They send me an EMAIL AT 0745 telling me that I have a MANDATORY MILITARY APPOINTMENT at 0900. And they just expect me to woop, drop everything and cater to their little meeting. Hmmph. The nerve."

"Well, you had better stop missing these meetings and stuff or you are going to get nowhere with your clearance, Missy." Okay, I don't think he actually said "Missy," but that is what I deserved to have said to me.

"Yeah, right." So at this point it was 1310, and I figured, hell I already missed this thing by 4 hours, what is another 30 minutes. Take that with your high priority mandatory military appointment Chief Perez!

Bored with my email by 1348, I bid Tony adieu, signed out and headed down to the J1 main admin office. I considered hitting the head on the way, but considered that it would give me something to do after I apologized to these people before the 1500 All-Hands J5 call with the new Director.

I found the office and waited at the helpdesk at the front and am waited on by YN1, PSC Perez's minion. Forthwith, I launched into expressing my abject apology for missing my appointment, telling him that I was at a conference this morning (which wasn't really the truth, but it was pretty believable, eh?) and just returned to my desk at 1330. He had a strange expression on his face, midway between horror and a sneeze.

"Well, I think they close at 1400. I don't know if you could get up there in time."

"To the meeting?"

"Yes, I am not sure you can make it."

"Wasn't it between 0900 and 1000?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"I don't get it... I mean I can still get up there by 1400 if you need me to."

"Well, it's not really an appointment............. it's urinalysis."

"Ohhhhhhhhh!" Well, why didn't he say so? Mandatory Military Appointment... that is one way of putting it. How do I keep from laughing? "Look, I feel bad. I can still make it up there. Just tell me where to go."

"No, don't worry about it, ma'am. We can just reschedule you." Huh!? That's not really how the program works. He must have sensed that I was questioning his integrity, and I felt bad for implying that I was when he was really just trying to hook me up.

"Just tell me where it is, I can make it in time," I assured him. I am a trooper, I can pee on command, don't you worry YN1, I won't let you down! # 2 will come through with just the # 1 they are looking for! (cue the national anthem, please)

He gave me directions and I headed out and went up 4 escalators and over to the 9th corridor A ring. Pretty quiet up here... above it all... counting the numbers on the doors... ah, here it is! Air Force! I should have known they have masterminded this whole operation: Operation Do Your Duty. Two Air Force Sargeants were giving me their very best June Cleaver smiles as I marched into the office.

I signed in and forfeited my ID card. There was a small glass bowl of "Fun Size" candy next to the sign in clipboard. Krackels, Snickers, Hershey's and Shockers...? What was with this candy. The selection was kind of gross. Shaking my head to rid myself from a bad dejavu, I took a seat.

"If you had been randomly selected 5 days in a row to collect a $1,000.00 check you would not complain that the process is not random." Or so said the sign directly across from me. This place was all geared to helping you prepare for your big test: the air temperature was slightly chillier than the rest of the building, the chairs were a little stiff and upright, and the piece du resistance was the little zen fountain that tinkled -- I mean trickled -- at just the right harmonic.

"Commander Stone, are you ready?" Hell, yeah, I was born ready!

"Yes."

"Verify this information, please..." Sure, be happy to.

"Okay, yes, looks good. Everything is correct." I took my bottle and the intermediate receptacle to the bathroom that the gentlemen presented to me with such grace and a sweep of the arm. One of the SGTs followed me -- the woman. Once in the bathroom she explained to me the virtues of the random tall plastic box in the corner of the room versus the sink edge as far as a perfectly level surface goes.

"You'd hate for something to spill."

"Yes, I would," I reply, thinking how much it would suck if my prized urine hit the deck and I had to rehydrate all over again so I could muster up enough to answer the call of duty.

"There was an accident in here earlier--" she started to say. No way! Gross! "...someone spilled bleach, that is why it smells like this in here." What??!! Bleach?? That is not an accident. As far as bathrooms go, that is the absolute opposite of an accident. That is a solution (no pun intended, seriously)! Weeeee-ired Woman!

So, I rinsed my hands, did my thing with the bottles and remarked that the Navy doesn't have such technology in their intermediate receptacles -- the "technology" being the tamper seal. Then comes the small talk... the infamous urinalysis small talk that the performer and the observer have to awkwardly engage in while the performer gets up the gumption to, well, perform.

I sit, take my bottle, position it and wait...

"Stagefright??!!" She says to me. Did she just say that to me? She just violated what I have always viewed as the first rule of female urinalysis observing: don't call out the performer! Notice I said female urinalysis observing. The dudes, they do it differently - or so I have heard. I remember the guys I worked with at the NROTC unti when we had to observe the midshipmen. "Ready for some Meat Gazing, Jerry??" Sharkey would say. Then they would walk by the quivering midshipmen, asking Sandford if he was going to find it in him to produce by 1500. A buddy of mine on my last ship, when it was his chance to perform, he took the performing literally and would ask his observer if he (the observer) wanted to hold his wanker while he peed. Talk about taking the offensive!

Anyway, so, she called me out on it and I sheepishly asked her if she could turn the faucet on for a trickle... maybe if she wasn't looking straight down between my legs... maybe if... if only that little zen fountain were in here!

Don't worry. I am a trooper. Once I heard that faucet and daydreamt of Niagra Falls, it wasn't long until the golden shower was going and I had it all sealed up, zipped up, buttoned up, and on my way back to the deck to verify, initial, and head out the door. I should have known that the Air Force was Marshaling this effort. Maybe tomorrow won't be fraught with such trauma.