Fired Again – An Ode to Military Humor

When I served as the Commander of the 305^th Supply and Services Company in the 227^th Maintenance Battalion At Yongsan, Seoul, Korea, the company passed several major tests and milestones.  And the company picked up new missions without skipping a beat.  But my company was also a dumping ground for soldiers that my senior rater didn’t want and that I had to rehabilitate.  Most of the castoffs that I inherited from my senior rater came from the HHC Company, 501^st Support Group.  That was because my senior rater was the Commander of the 501^st Support Group.  Whenever he wanted to get rid of soldiers, he would simply send them to my company.  Essentially, he would send them to the dump ground.  Cuz that’s where you throw all of your garbage, your old junk, and your shit that you no longer want.  And my company was apparently the dump ground.  Oh yeah.  You gotta love it.  No matter how many major tests and milestones my company successfully accomplished, no matter how many new missions my company successfully picked up, it would always come back to the fact that my company was the dump ground.  My company was the last stop for castoffs and misfits that nobody else wanted.  But whenever I took those castoffs, I was told I couldn’t use them.  What kind of bullshit is that?  Answer: the kind of bullshit that you simply ignore.  And that is exactly what I chose to do.  I ignored the bullshit.  But you know, there is a price to pay for marching to the beat of your own drum.  Whenever there is good news, that good news spreads like wildfire.  Have you ever noticed that?  It’s almost as bad as bad news.  No.  That’s not true.  It’s even worse.  Bad news travels fast, but good news spreads like a contagious disease.  One day two people have it, then the next day 2 million people have it.  Then, the whole planet is screwed.  Now, suppose that the good news that we’re speaking about happens to involve one of the castoffs or misfits that my senior rater happened to send to the dump ground.  That’s right.  The good news that I am referring to involved one of the misfits that my senior rater decided to park in my company.  That misfit was Sergeant First Class (SFC) Goodwin.  Goodwin had been made a scapegoat by my senior rater’s pet company commander before he was sent to the dump ground.  But I digress.  I was talking about how fast good news travels.  What is the good news you ask?  Well, it is simply this: I had appointed SFC Goodwin as the Platoon Sergeant of my Headquarters Platoon.  The incumbent NCOIC of my Headquarters Platoon had not been doing the job, and SFC Goodwin had stepped in without any direction from myself or the First Sergeant and had taken charge.  He had started to lead the Headquarters Platoon himself.  Upon observing that for several days and after discussions with my First Sergeant, I decided to make the appointment official.  I appointed SFC Goodwin as the Platoon Sergeant of my Headquarters Platoon, and I fired the incumbent NCOIC.  I don’t think it took a whole day for the news to reach my senior rater.  And the 501^st Support Group headquarters wasn’t even in Yongsan, Seoul.  It was located about 25 miles away up in Uijeongbu.  I wondered who in the hell his spy was?  I would have to find that out if I ever got the opportunity.  The key word there being IF.  Anyway, good deeds never go unpunished.  You can take that to the bank.  No.  The bank ain’t going to give you any money, if you say something cute like, “Good deeds never go unpunished.”  In fact, banks are pretty stingy.  They don’t give you shit for money even as interest on money that you deposit in savings.  Suppose you walk into a bank with a big stack of money.  How much is a big stack of money?  Well, let’s analyze that using ‘Econ speak. ’  A big stack of money in Econ speak is equivalent to three bags full.  How much is three bags full?  Well, if you have ever learned the little nursing rhyme about the sheep and it’s wool, you know that the black sheep tendered three bags full.  Well, a regular stack is equivalent to one full bag.  How much money is in a full bag?  Let’s suppose that there is $100,000 in that bag.  Let’s also suppose that the money will make the prevailing interest rate.  Let’s also suppose that the interest on your $100,000 deposit will be compounded every quarter.  Now remember, you have deposited three of these bags full of money.  That is $300,000.  I don’t know where in the hell you got it.  You could have stolen it for all I know.  Anyway, suppose that your average interest rate was less than one percent per quarter and that your average dollar amount in interest per quarter was approximately $38.91 interest or approximately $155.64 per year.  That ain’t much.  You’re better off buying stock.  Even if you buy four loser stocks, and only one winner, the chances are that you will make more money with those three bags full, than you would by sticking the money in a bank account.  Well, it works pretty much the same way with good deeds.  You don’t get shit as a return on your investment.  Oh, you may get shit on, but you don’t get anything as a return on your investment.  Case in point.  As soon as my senior rater heard the good news, he came rushing down to Yongsan.  He could’ve just called.  But did he?  Oh, hell no!  He just had to see me in person.  Why?  So he could yell and spit and turn nine shades of red in the face while he screamed, wait for it, wait for it, “YOU’RE FIRED!”  No explanation.  No justification.  Spittle flying all over the room like a camel in heat.  I think he secretly hoped that Hollywood was there filming the moment.  Of course, there weren’t any cameras rolling.  If he had called and let me know that he was coming, I could have arranged for video cameras to be set up for the moment.  He probably would’ve loved that.  What would he have done?  Fire me again?  Oh wait.  He had fired me again.  What the hell.  They always say that the third time’s the charm.  Then, the fuming bastard stormed out and got in his vehicle and drove off.  So, there I was.  A whole collection of soldiers gathered around my office.  They had obviously heard me while I got fired again.  All that I had left to do was clean my office and call the Battalion Commander.  When I called the Battalion Commander to notify him that I had been fired, he told me not to do a damn thing and to stay put.  He said he would fix this.  He said he was tired of the Group Commander meddling in his Battalion.  While I waited for news about being fired again, I pondered my fate as I maneuvered through this latest exercise in futility.

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