Working at Work

Oh, glorious blog. You understand me like no other. Though I do not always make sense, you always listen. I am always right and I can vent for hours on end without the fear of reprocussion or harrassment.

Today I took a PT test. I hate running. I hate running for the tArmy (I call it the tArmy to disrespect it). I hate running for the tArmy because they don't let me wear headphones while taking a PT test. Though I haven't been given the opportunity to prove it to anyone other than myself, I run much MUCH faster when listening to music. I'm sure most of you agree, however it's the powerful few who disagree that keep that from changing. I think one or two dead soldiers, due to the fact that they couldn't hear, is worth a higher PT average in the tArmy, if not the entire military. I believe that's why we have five, some would argue six, senses. . . so we don't get dead (ha ha, "get dead") because we like to listen to music and run. I also believe it would be a good weed out for those who are too stupid to pay attention while running across, or along, the street. If it were up to me. . . well, it's not. So I best not speculate.

The PT test, as fun as it may sound, was not the highlight of my day. Immediately following my run, we stepped back inside the gym to cool down before walking back to my room. I was standing with three high ranking individuals. The highest ranking one, a Sergeant First Class, commented about how retarded some signs were that I had helped the Sergeant Major hang up over the weekend. Not a split second later she walked past us as we said hello to her. I thought it was funny because if she hadn't had her ear muffs on, she probably would have heard his comment. If only the command could hear our thoughts on some of the crazy stuff they ask us to do.