iraqistan

I inquired today about whether or not I should possibly enroll myself in the Army Substance Abuse Program, which is the Army’s rehabilitative program for Soldiers with an addiction to drugs or alcohol.

I am not currently an alcoholic, in fact rarely drinking, but I am growing concerned that perhaps it might be a good investment in my sanity. I figure that if I enroll in ASAP now, I can head off anything really damaging later. More of a preventative measure to forming a real addiction, perhaps, because quite frankly, I could use a drink.

This morning, right before I was getting ready to head into work, I received a phone call from the NCO whom I have placed in charge of the other kids in an attempt to save me a few headaches.

Wait, stop, first please reference yesterday. Yesterday started my migraine, and has direct impact on today’s lessons.

So he called me today with the fun news that the very same Soldier to whom he gave a counseling last night about driving safety had, in less than 12 hours, hit another vehicle in the parking lot when she stopped to get a coffee for the road on her way to her training exercise. As it turns out, I happen to know the Soldier whose vehicle she hit, and he described it along the lines of she had about 20 feet to back up her little coupe before making contact with his vehicle, but that just wasn’t enough by about a foot. He said the damage was minor, and was most entertained when I informed him that she had just been counseled the evening prior about driving safety.

This particular NCO knowing me, he waited until she was again on her way after filing the reports with the military police before telling me. This is undoubtedly because he knew that if he called me immediately (she, thinking I am the devil in an Army uniform, would never call me directly) I would tell him to hurry up and get ready for a drive, because he was about to meet her on-post and drive her out to her training exercise since the night before I very carefully pointed out to her that driving to a course on her own was not something I needed to let her do, so was trusting her with a responsibility. I informed him upon seeing him that morning that I was displeased he let her go with her car, but he is used to me beind displeased so I don’t think it fazed him much. I am also getting the impression that he didn’t really want to be in a car with her for the two hours out to the exercise, either, and that might have weighed into his decision to just send her off.

So that started my day, though I did find entertainment in calling the exercise to tell them she would be late and listening to the warrant in charge of the exercise rant a little. She likes to do that, so I like to let her. Then I let the acting first sergeant know, who was way more concerned when she thought it was a government vehicle. Once I told her it was the personal vehicle, she just proceeded to laugh about it and remind me that nothing is more fun than having a Soldier give a class on how to not do dumb, so to make sure corrective training is involved somehow that involves such humiliation.

Not an hour after finishing dealing with this debacle did another one hit, this time with the German in my office. When stupidity rains, it pours around here.

He came in to mention he was going to lunch, but I stopped him to ask whether he had contacted another German to plan some joint training I wanted to conduct. He said yes, and gave me the date. Well, I thought he gave me the date, and so did my warrant, who repeated the date along with the question of how the training was supposed to work because the German in our office was supposed to be on leave that day. Our German then responded that it was okay, because the other German with whom I wanted to conduct the training speaks English, so his presence is not necessary. I said the other German’s English is not all that good, but I suppose it would get me by for what I needed to train, which was mostly weapons anyway so it is more pick it up and pull a trigger, then hope for the best.

So this back and forth exchange goes on for a few minutes and I, repeating the date again, state that I do not know if the facility where the training is to be is even free on the day the two Germans decided upon. Between my warrant and I, we must have repeated the date at least five times. I called the facility and asked. No, the date was booked already. I hung up and told the German to recontact the other German and reschedule. He asked me why I asked about that date, because the training was not going to be conducted on that day, it was for another date that I had already given him as a possible date. He had never said that the training was supposed to be on the date for which I had just called to request.

Wait. What? Didn’t we all just have a long conversation about this date? Did someone put something in the promotional gummy bears that my warrant and I regularly reallocate from the phone shop two floors below because they are addictive and delicious that now we are hallucinating and the entire conversation never took place? This not being the first time something similar has happened with this particular German, whom I am convinced each day speaks less and less English, I sent him on his way to lunch and then proceeded to pound my head on the desk and yell about how much I hate him, scaring the Soldiers off to lunch as well.

My warrant, naturally, tortured me with it for the rest of the day. While he was just as pained and perplexed with the entire situation, he found some relief in extending my misery as long as possible, hoping to get me on a screaming rant again about the many reasons I believe in forced sterilization.

My day only marginally improved because my warrant finally bought a game we saw weeks ago at the thrift store but couldn’t figure out how to play until he dug up an obscure, scanned file from the depths of the internet with the rules. A top, some string, and strategically placed small, wooden bowling pins all surrounded by a wooden maze structure is surprisingly theraputic. Unfortunately, it is a little loud, therefore sometimes attracting the attention of the objects of my wrath and therefore depleting all therapy value.

So really, I am still thinking I should swing by ASAP in the morning and see if there is anything I need to do for a preventative class. I have a bad feeling that two more months here might be a little too long.