A Day in Perspective

The clock silently moves forward, but for me it is time to start the day.  I glance at it, but just for the reassurance it really is time to face the future.  I roll out of bed and pad quietly to the kitchen to start the morning routine.  My responsibilities start with the cats.  Bama waits patiently for his breakfast, as the dominant he will eat his fill.  Ali cries, she always cries, but when it comes time to eat she turns up her nose.

Grinding the coffee and filling the pot to just the right level; the coffee starts.  The house is quiet except for the plaintive cries of the cat and the nasal intonations from the bedroom.  I plod back to the bath; to shower and prepare for the day.

Dressing, I have few hard choices.  My shirts are where they always are, my slacks wait my choice as usual.  Socks and shoes are in their places and of course a belt so I have something to buckle.  The house remains at rest and quiet in this early morning.

Silently to the kitchen and then the street to fetch the morning paper.  We have little news here in Northwest Florida, but the comics are a must for me.  Glancing at the front page I notice the ex-wife of a co-worker gets four years for racketeering.  Probably not enough, but her boss got five so what are you going to do?  What are you going to do…. a rhetorical question my father often asked.  I wonder, am I my father’s son.  I hope not.

I slip into my car for the 10-minute drive to base, and to work.  The IPod plays the songs of my youth and I think back to how I should have made different choices with friends I had.  What if I knew then what I know now, what would I have done better?

Through the gate, showing my identification.  How things have changed since 9/11.  Before, the base was open and inviting, now it is a fortress.  There are fears of attack and the work goes on to separate us from the population we are to protect.  Walls are everywhere, barriers abound.  To reach my desk from home I have to show my identification, enter a code to open a barrier, swipe a second identification (twice), enter a separate code and then pass another disinterested guard.  All because we are afraid of what could be.

At my desk I turn on my computers and clear away the clutter I am too lazy to file.  While the computers come to life I make a single cup of coffee.  I suppose it would be more social to wander off to the communal coffee pot, but I’ve come to love my little Keurig.  What shall it be today, Kona or Newman’s own? 

Proposals, questions, requests, and quarries; my day is filled with people asking for things, or me asking people for things.  We say we need to do with less, but somewhere along the lines the people at the top never get the memo.  I have bosses and I am a boss so stuff flows through me, around me, and sometimes just over me.

Someone in Washington needs to know some useless information in two weeks or life as they know it will end.  It is information that if we were to be accurate in providing would take six months to extract from our records.  We will spend 200 man-weeks extracting data from our files and when we can’t get it from our files it will come from some other orifice.  They will have data they won’t believe and we will all move on to the next great crisis.

I push forward a decision package so my General can approve a course of action.  He carries it to his boss, they mumble back and forth and he tells me what we should do, but he won’t sign the document.  If he signed it we would have something he could be held accountable for.  Can’t have that!  Our motto:  admit nothing, deny everything, and make counter accusations.

Lunch, an old friend is retiring.  I hate farewells, but I have to go.  I hate Thai lunch buffets, but I have to go.  Nice words, stupid gifts, ah well.

Back to the office for more paper shuffling, and a conversation with a Colonel in Tampa.  He has a job, I have a job, and we try and make sense of the rumors of direction the Generals haven’t signed up for.

Finally the end of the day and I make my escape.  I call home to see what medicines I need to pick up for my wife and she says the EPA was visiting and they took pictures she had of the great flood of ’07.  She is optimistic they will force the county to take action.  Can I pick up fish?  It’s Friday and she has to have fish.