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Day By Day© by Chris Muir.

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Thursday, August 10, 2006

okay, i lied. here's another one

Any nuc in the fleet dreads shiftwork, because it is really the pits when the rest of the world operates on a regular schedule. One of our biggest bitches was that we never got a chance to eat if we were on the midshift. One time we were actually pitied by the engineer, and he sniveled to the skipper until he gave in and got us a cook for mid-rats. Well, maybe not a cook, but at least he was a striker for cook. That's good enough isn't it? The young lad, my barracks roomie, was in the galley fixing us soup and grilled cheese and ham sandwiches while we were going through our preshift brief in the crews mess. One of the nucs in my section was called "Big", mainly because he was about 7 feet tall and 7 feet around and over 300 pounds of hairy hungry nuc machinest mate. Joel was cooking his butt off, getting the grub ready so that we could eat as soon as the brief was over, but miscalculated. We finished before he did, prompting our hero Big to roar into the galley, grab a sandwich off of the top of the stack on the platter, and scarf it down in one bite, yelling all the while for Joel to get his butt in gear because there were a bunch of hungry nucs that had to go back and relieve the watch. On his way out of the galley, Big grabs a second sandwich, and is about halfway through it when he gets to the tables. He got a really funny look on his face, like he'd just discovered that that golden brown pair of bread slices with melted cheese oozing out the sides was actually a warmed up dog turd. Back into the galley he went, only this time the entire watch section is following, to find out why our food wasn't ready, or edible. What we saw was my roomie pouring the cooking oil on the grill to keep the bread from sticking like he was supposed to, out of the one gallon metal can......that read "NON IONIC AIRCRAFT SOAP (CONCENTRATE)". It took Big 3 days to get out of the crapper, and Joel never did get out of the shits. His only physical salvation was that he screwed up often enough that they shitcanned him to a skimmer. And I don't think I ever saw Big take a bite of food bigger than a teaspoon ever again, or swallow that bite until it was complety chewed and tasted. Mid rats are now being served in the crews dinette.

note big is the character sitting down holding my shoulder in the first picture of this post

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2 Comments:

Blogger Lone Ranger said...

I prefer shift work. It's part of my AA program -- A-hole Avoidance.

8/11/06, 2:13 PM  
Blogger lazlong said...

I only liked shift work when I was on the mid shift. We all know that adage. The day shift gets nothing done, because the supervisor is always busy, and the CO, XO, Eng, SquEng, Commodore....all come by to see what is up. The swing shift is recovering from their hangovers because they got to town at midnight, stayed at the bars until closing time, went to after hour bars, and got to bed at 10AM. The mid shift, on the other hand, had no one to bother them, didn't drink too much, and by default, did all of the work (of course, hydrolancing without the oversight of the officers is a lot faster than with the danger of them coming around and catching us without our safety gear on...again....for the 10th time after the safety stand-down).

8/11/06, 9:49 PM  

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