Things have changed a bit since I joined this yacht club 23 years ago. We used to be allowed to have a beer or two at lunch. Now I’m in an AOR where drinking is prohibited. That’s right, no drinking in the Middle East or Afghanistan. I think the official rational is that we are in Muslim countries. This would be a good reason except that many Muslims drink, just like many Christians and Mormons drink. I think it’s because they don’t want to deal with the occasional drunk idiot. By this logic the US should have much more stringent laws governing human behavior. Sharia law perhaps?
This is indeed the oddest work environment I’ve been in. The truly surreal aspect is that it all feels very normal. I live and work in this place resembling a sci-fi set for a B movie. Every morning I wake up ion my 20 ft container. I get dressed and strap on my 9mm in a drop down holster. I normally only carry 45 rounds because of the weight, I’m supposed to be carting around 75 rounds because I travel off the FOB regularly. Again, this seems normal. Any time I go outside the gate I am supposed to be in full body armor. I’ve removed the shoulder protectors because they are too cumbersome. We walk around counting trucks mixing with locals going about their business as if everything is quite normal. Us dressed like starship troopers, them dressed like 18th century nomads.
Most of the time, I work at a desk in an office. It’s normal enough looking for a govt. office: cluttered, ugly furniture, maps and clocks on the walls, beige paint, florescent lighting. Each desk has two computers, one normal, one secret. I compile reports, analyze our logistics chain, talk to our suppliers and carriers. Most of it is not unlike what I do in civilian life, except for the 9mm on my hip and sounds of aircraft constantly taking off.
This is indeed the oddest work environment I’ve been in. The truly surreal aspect is that it all feels very normal. I live and work in this place resembling a sci-fi set for a B movie. Every morning I wake up ion my 20 ft container. I get dressed and strap on my 9mm in a drop down holster. I normally only carry 45 rounds because of the weight, I’m supposed to be carting around 75 rounds because I travel off the FOB regularly. Again, this seems normal. Any time I go outside the gate I am supposed to be in full body armor. I’ve removed the shoulder protectors because they are too cumbersome. We walk around counting trucks mixing with locals going about their business as if everything is quite normal. Us dressed like starship troopers, them dressed like 18th century nomads.
Most of the time, I work at a desk in an office. It’s normal enough looking for a govt. office: cluttered, ugly furniture, maps and clocks on the walls, beige paint, florescent lighting. Each desk has two computers, one normal, one secret. I compile reports, analyze our logistics chain, talk to our suppliers and carriers. Most of it is not unlike what I do in civilian life, except for the 9mm on my hip and sounds of aircraft constantly taking off.
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