Saturday, March 04, 2006

The All-New H2

On my way out the gate this morning I had no choice but to notice a white Hummer H2. It turned left about a block in front of me and that’s when I realized that someone, probably the driver, had it covered in a huge rippling American flag decal.

It makes me want to run covert night ops. I’d stick a bumper sticker on it that says:

The All-New H2:
Because Nothing is More Patriotic than 8 Miles Per Gallon *


*My source can be found here.

Friday, March 03, 2006

A Time to Speak

Tuesday all E-5 personnel are required to attend CO’s call. It’s the one time we’re given carte blanche to ask or tell the CO anything we choose. The questions don’t have to be pre-approved and there isn’t any pressure to keep our mouths shut. I feel like it’s a good opportunity, and a civic duty along the lines of voting, that I don’t want to miss. But choosing something to say is overwhelming: I want something important, witty, topical, and challenging in my arsenal. And then I want a backup plan, in case my primary line of questioning suddenly doesn’t seem so pertinent to me. It’s akin to going to a neighborhood restaurant knowing you want the penne aribatta but filing away that the chicken Caesar would also be a fine choice if the pasta suddenly doesn’t sound so good.

I have until Tuesday morning at 0715 to decide what I’m going to say and as it stands now I think I want to talk a bit about the perception of gender differences that surfaced in our command EO survey. It fits three of my four criteria: important, topical, and challenging. As for the fourth, well… I hate to plan wit because it never translates to the audience the way it plays in your head. True wit requires both a grasp of the moment and a little spontaneity.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Forgetful is Just Fine

Sometimes I think I don’t have children because I wouldn’t be able to handle it if they were dumb. Slow would be OK, forgetful would be just fine, and deliberately contrary would be expected. But dumb is different.

The RRR instructor, SW1, is dumb. At first it was hard to tell. But each day it has been more obvious than the last. There was an episode today, that I can’t think how to fully explain in this paragraph, (which I know says nothing for my intelligence), where he insisted on solving a problem in several steps that required numerous calculations. It was immediately obvious that the task could be accomplished with a few grease pencil marks on a Plexiglas template. SW1 noticed what our group was doing and couldn’t wrap his brain around it. He listened to the explanation from one group member, then another, and another. It still didn’t sink in. I know this probably doesn’t sound like much but it was the most completely frustrating experience: like needing desperately to accomplish the impossible. He was the instructor. I’m still frustrated sitting here thinking about it. The resolution came when he looked up at me in defeat to say, “Well, you taught me something today.” To make matters worse he spent the first two days of class staring me down and trying to impress me but now he feels only emasculated and avoids all eye contact. That always makes me feel like hell.

The truth is that I’ve never known someone well that I didn’t like. Understanding background and motivation makes almost any behavior rational. It's that whole to understand is to forgive thing. But seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever taken the time to know the truly dumb. It might be the exception to the rule.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

ABCs

I understand this isn’t surprising to anyone but I still want to report, with complete conviction, that the Arabic language is difficult to learn. Seriously. I have a brand new notebook that I use to practice writing the alphabet and an Arabic-English dictionary on the way from Amazon. But it’s going to take a lot more than that.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Macaroni and Cheese

This afternoon in Rapid Runway Repair class we were taught that patching a spall (a crater less than five feet in diameter that doesn’t break the subsurface) with concrete was only reliable for 100 sorties and also taught that a sortie is one landing and take-off of an aircraft. An inquisitive steelworker asked why it was called a sortie. In two days of class it’s the only question she’s asked but you would have thought she raised her hand for the umteenth time to insult the dead. Everyone, including the instructor, turned on her. Comments like:

“Does it fucking matter?”
“Why do you care?”
“They just fucking do, OK?”

And my favorite:

“I don’t know. Why do you think they call it macaroni and cheese?” **

I approached her after class and told her that sortir is the French for “to leave” and that it probably came from the French or some other romance language. She looked at me, sighed quietly, and said, “I just wanted to know.”

I’m anxious for the day when I have a peer group that encourages inquisitiveness.


**I think it’s probably because the dish is made primarily of macaroni and cheese.

Nice Ass

About a year ago I was standing watch over the restricted personnel. When they were changing and wandering around in their boxers one guy bent over to pick something up and the next thing I heard was, “Nice ass. What do you feed that thing, dick?”

It still makes me laugh.

Today at quarters I overheard another one of my favorite quips. A Seabee was complaining and the guy who was standing there listening answered, “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you when you speak in bitch.”

Sometimes I love my job.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Arabia

I’m stuck in the mindset that I just got back from deployment and because of this my life should be all about winding down and getting a grasp on the normal. But I have it all wrong. I came back from Alaska five months ago. It's time to start gearing up for my six-month trip to Kuwait scheduled for August. I officially acknowledged my future this evening by starting to learn a little Arabic. I have free access to the Rosetta Stone online with my public library card (OK, it's a friend’s card because I’m wanted in about 5 counties for massive overdue library fines and I can’t be trusted with my own license to check out books). I’d share a little of what I learned tonight but it’s a completely different alphabet that reads from right to left and I have absolutely no idea how to even begin trying to type it.

My only reservation is a nagging fear that I’ll end up on some crazy government watch list and the next time I try to get on a plane I’ll be detained indefinitely without access to counsel. Cross your fingers for me.

Green Dreams

I thought I was over the guilt of not going to the field exercise. I really did. But I’ve had vivid dreams about me, the field exercise, and failure for two nights so I must be clinging to some residual guilt. In last night's installment I was supposed to be a foreword observer. I was late (a BIG deal for me) to go relieve the guy already out there because I wasn’t prepared: my canteens weren’t full. My squad leader (EA1) scolded me condescendingly and reminded me that the sloshing of the water would alert the enemy to my position. The canteens were filled (I’m not sure how, it was one of those magic things that just happens in dreams) and I realized I didn’t know where to go. In a tone that communicated disappointment EA1 gave me incomplete directions and I headed off trying to figure out where exactally I was supposed to be. When I finally arrived to relieve the class leader from his watch he shook his head at me like I was a small child. I assumed the watch with my tail between my legs and after 12 hours had passed it was time for me to relieve someone else. I didn’t know his location either and several people noticed and were annoyed that I was so disorganized. My second location turned out to be on a wooded hill overlooking the ocean. I recognized it as Annette Island in Alaska where I worked on the road project last summer. This time I knew how to get where I was going. I was so relieved. I hiked through the woods and the rain and when I came close to the lookout I found about 12 people, who had arrived before me, huddled inside a room keeping themselves dry. I knew they were cheating because they were supposed to be out in the rain standing watch. But I joined them anyway. I stood in the huddle, made no motion to leave, and felt guilty that I wasn’t doing my job.

I need to find a way to kick this guilt. I'm on my way to PT. Maybe I'll try and run it out.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

In the Theater, Part I

Friday morning the entire battalion filed into the base theater for a discussion, led by the CO, on the results of our command climate survey. The focus of the survey was equal opportunity. As the Commander paced back and forth on the stage, speaking and gesturing with his hands, there was, of course, the ubiquitous Power Point presentation up on the screen.

First Slide: What We Are Doing Well

We have been successful at avoiding discrimination based on race, gender, and religious belief.

Second Slide: What is Only OK

In the survey we expressed some discontent with the effectiveness of communication throughout the organization (otherwise know as passing the word), work satisfaction is low, and small unit leadership is perceived as weak.

Third Slide: What We Need Work On

There is a huge gap in the overall satisfaction between the junior enlisted and the senior enlisted. The gap always exists but never before in our battalion has it registered at the Grand Canyon proportions that emerged this time around. Also, there is a wide spread belief by men that women have it easier at work just as there is a wide spread belief by women that men are consistently given preferred job assignments.

It’s that last part that I think is the most interesting. The CO’s comment was, “Males think females have it better. Females think males have it better. As a battalion we need to get over this grass is greener idea.” He missed the mark. Sexism is part of the military culture. When there is physical work to be done women often aren’t chosen. It’s not a rule, and we’re given training to remind us to avoid this natural inclination, but in a work environment like ours where manual labor is expected women are spared from it frequently nonetheless. As an example no women in the battalion were assigned to the 50 cal or the M240B, two of the heaver weapons. And in truth, there are very few women assigned to any of the crew serve weapons (I’d have to check the list to get an exact count). This is just one example. I’ve fallen prey to it myself. In Alaska, working on a road project, five of us were hiking out beyond the existing road to pound in limit stakes for the equipment operators who needed to come through and grub the vegetation. The hiking was rough: dense brush, steep rocks, and peat bog. We had a woman with us, an Army reservist from Wisconsin, who was not a picture of physical fitness. I instinctively assigned the crew responsibilities so that she would not have to carry anything heavy. It would be convenient if I could argue that the issue at hand was time management and that if I bogged her down with a load of any weight we weren’t going to move as fast. However, we weren’t in any hurry and in truth it’s not what I was thinking about when I gave her the job of carrying a few rolls of red and yellow flagging, a marker, and a grease pencil. I wanted to spare her the work of lugging a bag of stakes or heavy equipment because she was a woman. It was my natural reaction to the situation. I know I’m not the only one. My examples seem mild but they give rise to a dirty underside: because we are perceived as less capable women are routinely placed in secretarial and other positions that keep them out of the spotlight. It is true that a strong, intelligent, and charismatic leader will always rise to the top irrespective of gender but there are many more positions of leadership in the military than there are natural leaders. It’s those extra positions that are almost always filled by men. In the military a position of leadership is something you often have to fight for as a woman and something that usually befalls you as a man. The overall problem with gender perception in our battalion isn’t that the grass seems greener, it’s that the grass actually is greener. It just depends on what you want from your work experience: little to no heavy lifting or a position in a leadership role. I’m willing to bet that given the opportunity to swap most all of the women would do so gladly and most all of the men would stay right where they are.

Guilt Free and Well Fed

I'm over the guilt of not going to the field. My husband is glad that I’m home to dress his wounds and I’m glad that I can be here for him. Last night I was able to go to a birthday party (I have very few girlfriends, so it was a true treat) at a Greek restaurant with the best feta I’ve ever had; it was the consistency of loose cottage cheese and super salty. I gorged myself. There were belly dancers, folk dancers, and I left a little hoarse from hours of yelling “Opah” at every opportunity. I'm glad I'm home.