Field Commission 2

Well you can forget a lotta jobs; anything involving social/style. But I had one ace in the hole - 100% on Grade 12 math. Exactly what the pharmaceutical wholesaler wanted for order picking. Style meant nothing - clean white uniforms came from the linen rental.
For the first six months, it was an almost hypnotic level of tranquility. Never a hurry - accuracy counts far more than speed.
But the Fates rarely let anyone enjoy such for long. I was summoned to the Oval Office, given no choice, informed henceforth I would be training new people. For the same salary, of course.
Well there are thousands of products here, many very similar. Throw in a lower than average wage level and you get - surprise - higher than average turnover. A revolving door. Soon as they are trained or half-trained, they're gone.
I am hugely surprised to find some of these trainees actually view me as management, as part of the problem. They'll say, "why don't you tell them to raise wages 2 or 3 dollars an hour."
Me? Get real. Who am I?
Management presents me with my 30th victim er I mean trainee. As I see Parvana's face, I make a resolution. If she quits, I'm knocking on management's door. Not to debate company wage policy of course, I'm not that brave. To tell them I've had enough and wish to return to order picking.
At the end of her first shift, we're changing in the locker room. She gasps, "I don't believe it. You actually gone wear that?"
I look at her frostily.
"Can't imagine you find many guys dressed like that."
"I would suggest you mind your own business."
She shrugs, "your funeral, wanna live like that. And don't put tons of effort into training me. Payday I'm gone, just need textbook money. Think I'd hang around a pi**ant place like this?"
I laugh and she joins in. On the way home, it just does not seem so funny anymore. How on earth am I gonna get up enough nerve to tell them I want my old job back? I toss and turn all night.
Two days later all is irrelevent. My hand shakes as I open the official brown envelope ordering me to show for lottery draft selection.
There being nothing wrong with me in the physical sense, and the army not caring about your fashion sense because they have their own, I am taken.
Following exams, I am summoned to the office of an earnest young Captain. Her eyes go bigger as she looks into my file. Good marks?
Affable smile, "ok what you should know. There are two different armies, the Edsel one and the Cadillac. Most people get Edsel. Two year draft hitch. Occasional riot control at the Legislature. Fill sandbags the odd time of flood. Sometimes a forest fire. Mostly just dead boring.
"Math and sci skills as good as yours, you get the option to choose Cadillac. There's a price, have to agree to stay five years. But, that is two years of technician training, followed by an enjoyable three year tour of duty in Germany."
I'm already weakening.
She continues, "you already have proven private sector experience, leadership and training. Make Sgt faster than most would."
I shrug, why not? No one else seems to want me.
I am selected as electronics tech and will commence training on all the various gear that an armored car unit uses.
It is an absolute blast, I love it. Not only the work, the social life, get to meet other geeks.
As regulars, we collect 2 1/2 times the salry of draftees. So, when off duty, we get to frequent expensive restaurants as a group.
Graduation day comes all too soon, a crashing disappointment, gotta say goodbye to all my friends. Meet the odd one from time to time.
I did ok in the cut, assigned to the prestigious Black Watch, who are about to commence a German tour.
As everyone mills around on the tarmac, I spot a familiar face. Parvana will be one of our ground support infantry.
Now I could laugh, after she snooted me out last time. After all, she's a Pvt and me a Spec 4. But I'm not that way, just not into grudges. So I simply strike up a friendly conversation.
We board the giant transport, buckle in side-by-side.
"Tell me," I ask innocently, "how is it draftees get a German tour?"
She pulls a face, "and what in the flaming hell do you think the entire ground support is but draftees? You think any of them smart ass regulars would dirty their hands with that?"
I blush, "hey look, I meant no offence. I didn't know, thought the whole Black Watch was regulars. I'm sorry."
"Oh hell, I didn't take offence. Just none of you geeks got beans for social skills."
I laugh uneasily, am saved from further conversation by the running up of the engines.
By the time we can converse again, all appears ok. She speaks of university days and me of tech training.
As our flight continues, I am immensely relieved by events. See there is only one other elec tech. Her scenes are leather dyke and drugs; my indulgences, reading and restauranting. So while we work together ok, there's little scope for off duty friendship.
But Parvana is a reader when she can afford the time, so I am in luck.
We're assigned to a small base outside Herrlingen, a small village just west of Ulm in the Schwabian Alps.
We arrive Friday afternoon. As we finish supper, I grin at Parvana, "just half a mile to walk. Come on, let's get a beer."
She blushes, "you regulars got bags of money, I'm broke."
"Oh come on, I'll buy, bring your squad."
The five of us set out. We stop at a bar/restaurant not 100 yards from the grave of Erwin Rommel, the legendary Desert Fox of World War 2 fame.
I buy the grunts a couple rounds. As we talk, I gradually realize something. They are warming up to me, like me, not how they view most regulars. I just bought the world's cheapest life insurance. Any trouble, they'll help me first. I make a mental note to treat them every month.
As I return from the bathroom I feed coins into the vending machine. At a point in the conversation where no one is looking at us, I discreetly pass the pack of cigs to her, mouth, "pass em round." She nods her thanks.
Monday breakfast, the other elec tech Brenda joins me, looking drugged out.
"Tired?" I ask.
Laugh, "you ain't whistling Dixie. Huge S&M circle in Ulm," spreads jam mega thick on her toast, "you and me, four days work to re-calibrate everything."
"You mean different elevation and humidity?"
"You got it, pain in the ass!"
Breezily I reply, "that's what we get the big bucks for."
She looks at me oddly, "try reading a newspaper from time to time. You just been defrauded, big time. Kinda electronic skill we got, at least double the pay on civvy street."
I gasp, but then reply, "still and all, it is them gave us the skill. Not like we joined knowing it."
"Still finish your hitch, get the hell out. Don't waste your time on this garbage. Nother few months, I'm gone."
As we eat, I ponder, am I gonna get all bent outa shape? No, I made a deal. They gave me something, which has a lotta value, and of course there is a price to pay. I see no reason to resent the army.
We're in the motor pool. As we climb aboard one car she grins, draws out a precision screwdriver, "we could hotwire this babe. Send that smart ass Lt Peterson spinning back in time."
"I hope you're joking. What bout the resta her crew?"
"Blast, never thought of that. No, I wouldn't wannt do that," nother wicked smile, "let's you and me take her for a spin. You can see the world before restaurants and literature."
"Read your history. Cave man days, lucky to live to age 30. Ever hear of sabre tooth tigers? What if our blasters are disabled by the time jump?"
She laughs, "party pooper." Then she winks and I realize she was only teasing me, wouldn't have done it.