Meet Sparrow, an average man passing an average life…
Monday, August 22
So I go into the back office towards the end of my shift and Ariel, manning PBX, and Scott, an assistant housekeeping manager manning the housekeeping desk, are back there…Ariel has a French bread pizza at her desk and is showing marvelous restraint in not downing it immediately…She’s been having these for most of the past few days and they don’t look half bad and I asked Ariel if they were any good…She shrugged and said they weren’t too bad, noting they were only a buck apiece, not too bad a price.
Scott and I both nod our heads knowingly and I said a buck is a pretty good price for something that has melted cheese and assorted pork products and Scott continued to nod his head, chiming in that not too bad was still better than the crap he ate in Iraq when he was in the Army…He gave an example about a bread product that was so inedible there was a standing prize for anyone who could eat it dry, without butter or water or anything else…Scott said the prize was never claimed because it was physiologically impossible to actually eat it unassisted…The bread sort of expanded in the mouth, or maybe it turned to sand or something,
So I dove in about the time on my old diesel submarine that we went out without air conditioning or refrigeration…I made this sound really tuff, too, which made Scott laff because they didn’t always have luxuries like “air conditioning” and “refrigeration” in the Sandbox…Anyway, I told him we had lots of canned meat and eggs – which we never refrigerated – and powdered milk and crap like that…Scott he ate mostly scorpions and rancid butter and would have loved canned bacon and eggs and powdered milk.
So I kept rubbing it in the rest of the afternoon…Later, I told Scott there are four meals a day on submarines, every six hours on the 12’s and 6’s, because there are four six hour watches everyday…There was a meal for those coming on watch and a meal for those going off watch: breakfast, lunch, dinner and midrats (midnight rations), which usually consisted of leftovers and cold cuts and boy oh boy would we get in a tizzy when the night baker didn’t have fresh baked rolls, biscuits or bread for us at midnight.
Scott said they’d marinate their scorpions in aviation fuel for added flavor.
Everyone and their brother wanted noon checkouts today!!!…I am not making that up!!!…I had to tell them all no.
Friends, the purpose of the checkout time is to give your lodging establishment ample time to prepare your room for the next guest…Asking for a two-hour delay simply is not reasonable…We’ve discussed this here before: it’s not my fault you made your plane reservations for later that night or that you overslept or that you are generally disorganized or were too cheap to book for an extra night so you could leave whenever the hell you wanted.
I’m always very cordial when I do this because I do not want to offend…I go thru the motions of tapping the keyboard a few times so they think I’m actually doing something before telling them there is, tragically, someone coming into their unit later today and I am unable to accommodate this request…Most people understand and take it as a matter of course, but one guy today got snitty and gave me a full ten seconds of silence topped off with a sigh.
Went to the local market before dinner for some coffee…Saw Rodney from the local Post there…Actually, you hear Rodney before you ever see him…I was in the coffee aisle and Rodney and his buddy where near the deli case and it was tuff not to pick Rodney up, so I went over and said hi…We chatted for a bit, then he pointed at my coffee can…It was a leading national brand, in a blue can, and the Bonus Size was on sale.
How come you buying decaf coffee???
I looked and while it wasn’t exactly decaf, there, in really small lettering, was the word “Light” …Well, hell, that isn’t going to do anybody any good, so Rodney – and this was pretty funny – escorted me back to the coffee aisle and pointed a variety of coffees that would provide sufficient caffeination.
The Diary of a Nobody is a novel. All elements are either made up or are used fictitiously. Any other use is a coincidence.