As the Polygon Turns (Episode 2)

02 September -- 0730ish

Here I am, consigned or relegated, however you look at it, to the Pentagon 2nd Floor, Food Court (between corridors 6 and 7). I am reading, waiting for Jeff (for the sake of not confusing him with my good old friend Jeff Heames, we'll call him #1, and I who am to eventually relieve him will be #2). So I am waiting for #1 to come back in a half hour so we can go find out the status of my clearance situation. Well, I was reading; but now, as you can see, conscious of my fragile grasp on life, I am writing, pecking away at the little buttons of my Blackberry, trying to fabricate some semblance of enjoyment if not make sense of my predicament.

What was I reading? I was reading my John LeCarre book, my leisure book, repudiating my Crisis of Islam book in a feeble act of protest.

---1000ish
As the time got closer to 0800, I switched to my Crisis of Islam book so that when #1 arrived it would not seem like #2 was totally pissing the day away (ha! I kill myself). Back to serious matters: at 0835ish we went to the MILSEC (stands for Military Secretary, I believe) office, and no one there could help us... the lady there who initially had been working on my case abnegated all responsibility for helping us find possible solutions, so we went down to the J1 main administration office. Now you should know before I begin that I am ever skeptical of admin offices. Here is what happened at the Naval Annex Personnel Support Detachment (PSD) when I first checked in:

The access to Naval Station Anacostia was through Bowling Air Force Base. That the Air Force was somehow a conduit to having my check-in paperwork processed should have been a sign. By the way, yes they DO have a Bowling Alley on Bowling Air Force Base. Duh! When I entered the PSD building, after having spent my first couple of days at the Pentagon surrounded by chumpalumps from other services or Navy pilots in flight suits, it was nice to see so many (okay about 10) Navy people in one spot, however ghetto this PSD may appear. The building looks like it was built in the post-WW2 period and should have been renovated if not abandoned in the late 80s. Grim walls with offwhite paint and gold and blue striping running from chest height down. A typical Navy Admin office: obviously overstaffed with multiple people at desks or milling about bullshitting. Only one person, though can actually help you.

What happened next, however, was an amazing, thing! Just as I was scurrilously thumbing the above words into my Blackberry's keyboard, a Sailor called my name and told me that she just needed me to sign one form and I was done. Hmph.

Who knew?

Did it renew my faith in Navy Admin offices?

Nah!

So there we were, #1 and I, at around 0845, hopelessly looking around the J1 admin office for the one or two people that could help us.

Didn't happen.

I went back up to my new office (aka the Food Court) to finish my Crisis of Islam if for no other reason than to prove that #2 isn't really a piece of shit (ha!) that reads leisure books all day while at "work."