It’s kind of nice being taken for a civilian. There are lunch breaks, out of doors. Away from your actual desk. When you take one, no one stares at you. Because you’re in civilian clothes. Just like everyone else.
I have arrived upon a system: When I wear a shirt for the day’s work, I place it at the back of the queue in the closet at the end of the day. The next morning, a new shirt offers itself up, is worn, and takes it’s place at the back of the stack, yesterday’s shirt advancing one step in the line. But as for the trousers? These I leave in their original order! Thus guaranteeing a certain degree of randomness in my sartorial display.
Having worn nothing but flight suits and khakis for the last three decades, I reckon this as something of a stroke.
The politics of the job are… interesting. It’s the acquisition world, not the operational one. It isn’t always about getting the mission done. Sometimes it appears to be about playing “stump the dummy.” So far I have avoided the cross hairs. Knowing full well that nothing lasts forever.
I work for a guy that was recently a lieutenant. Who works for a guy that is still a commander. Trying to be a team player and help out the side, I set up a meeting for a former colleague at the old job who is, like your correspondent recently was, a US Navy captain. And there was much rejoicing. For the access that was in it.
Until the assemblage started to ponder the consequences of briefing an Actual Captain. This would all have to be staffed through Higher Authority. Where there would be much tut-tutting and pulling of chins.
I positively weep.
But. They are all decent people, attentive to their duty, and I’m very happy to be a part of it. After all, it hasn’t got to be forever. It’s just for the now.