How Did I Get Here?

Saturday

One third of my latest work-related stress ended tonight. But in the process, like a big over-sized turd, the process of disposal of it was painful and involved a lot of grunting.

You see, I was in charge of all of the Marine Corps Birthday Ball celebrations this year. Well, sort of in charge, in the way of being responsible when things go wrong but only really being directly responsible for the Officer event. The enlisted one is next Friday and the Staff NCO one was tonight. Both were led by two First Sergeants. The Officer Ball is Saturday the 10th and I’m sure the stress level then will make tonight look like a walk in the park. Good thing my brother and mother will be there to see it.

Since I felt a responsibility to show up and make sure everything was going right tonight, I planned on getting my uniform ready, taking it to the hotel, and after helping out with the setup, changing over and watching the first half when all the formal ceremony happens and then slip away when dinner started.

But before all that happened, I waited until the last minute to put my Evening Dress uniform together and on my Formal Uniform Stress Scale (FUSS), a scored about a 4 or 5 out of 10 which is better than the normal 1,398,574 out of 10 I normally peg.

I had trouble with the neck collar insert. It’s this stiff cardboard with holes that never line up to the buttons on the neck piece of the coat. I about broke my fingers getting all of the buttons through, miraculously without popping one of the buttons but then I soon discovered that it’s a good idea to put the EGA neck ornaments on the coat before putting the white collar in.

Why? Because the white collar blocks the posts that come through the coat collar so that you can’t screw the holders onto the posts. In fact, you have to undo the work you did putting the white collar in and that just might bump up your FUSS a few points.

Carrie had to refasten those buttons because it was just too bitter a moment for me.

Then there were the little golden buttons for the white shirt. Putting them through the buttonholes was pretty much like putting a cat in bucket of water.

But hey, I go from wearing two belts on the Dress Blues to NO BELTS on this uniform. There are suspenders which I was really diggin’ and a cummerbund that took some adjustment so I didn’t look like I was storing my wallet, my keys, and a small woodland creature in it.

When I was done, it looked pretty sharp except both Carrie and I had to spend a few minutes getting all the micro-lint off of the damn thing. The material is a soft felt so it was practically a lint brush by its very consistency!

And poor Buster was a stress case because I didn’t want him anywhere NEAR me. It was bad enough that just walking around my bedroom, I had dog hair on the bottom of my trousers. He, of course, was curious and kept trying to come over and give me a good sniff which resulted in me yelling at him and he skulking away.

He got me back by pissing during the outside shots Carrie took of me in my uniform.

I was just making sure it all fit and was put together so after that was done, I took it off, packed it, loaded it, and headed off to the hotel to start my next phase of Stress-O-Rama 2007.

I showed up and made sure I got a parking voucher. I mean, come on, I was there to help, right?

I found the First Sergeant in charge and he had the look of a man under tremendous pressure. To give you an idea of what this is like, this particular First Sergeant is the First Sergeant at DI School. If you want the International Center for All Things Stressful, it would be HQ’ed at DI School. They MANUFACTURE stress there and if the head monster at this school is feeling the stress, you know it had to be incalculable to us mere mortals.

One of the big things that went wrong was the DJ showed up 45 minutes late which meant we didn’t have a sound system so the ceremony participants couldn’t hear the commands, practice the sound cues, etc.

Then when the DJ DID show up, the first thing he tells me is that he only has one of the two screen and projector systems. The other one wouldn’t be coming until 7:30 which is 15 minutes after we needed it.

I was irate.

Luckily, the AV guys from the base was there and the Master Sergeant sent one of his guys back to the base to quickly get a projector and screen. Meanwhile, the crowd gathered outside the doors and we were dealing with a cushion of mere minutes. A Staff Sergeant from the Band kept coming in and asking if we could open the doors to clear the foyer so the Band could set up.

I said no. Many times.

We finally had to open the doors and the crowd rushed in. The AV guys showed up and as people were flowing in, they were setting up the second screen.

Then as precious seconds ticked away, I am informed that the cable the DJ had was too short.

We used one of ours but it didn’t work.

We got one from the hotel and then that one didn’t work and the AV guys abandoned the project because they had to do what they came to do: take pictures.

The DJ said he was going to try another video cable but by this time, everyone was seated and the Band was playing. It was game time and we had mere minutes before we had to play the Commandant’s Message on the screens.

And it just so happened that the screen we had up on the side that the General was sitting was the one that didn’t have the working projector.

I just went to the back of the hall and waited for my fate. They continued to fiddle with it but all that was on the screen was a blue light of nothingness with the ever-so-helpful “No Signal” in the lower corner.

I was planning the death of the DJ.

The Drill Master told me he told the narrator to just read the Commandant’s Message instead of playing the DVD if they couldn’t get BOTH projectors to work.

Suddenly, we get word that they got it to work some how, some way and sure enough, when he pushed play, both screens lit up.

I couldn’t believe it.

But I was still going to kill the DJ. And unfortunately, we contracted the same company for all three events.

Come Monday, I’m calling the boss of the company and he is going to get a one-sided conversation he is not going to be all that happy about. I’ve been sharpening my teeth all weekend.

I never did get to hear the guest of honor since he chose to speak at the end of the ceremony, after dinner. His name was Bill Dower and he had a few claims to fame. He was a real Drill Instructor and in fact, was the head of DI School during the 1970s. He also made it to the highest rank (Master Gunnery Sergeant) and had this Miller Light commercial in the 80s.

So you know it must have been stressful if I couldn’t take the time to find him and introduce myself.

After the ceremony was over, I quietly slipped back into the Band changing room where I made everyone uncomfortable by joining the rest of the male band members in changing into civies.

“What the hell is a ‘sir’ doing in here changing?”

I changed, got in my Honda, and went home to eat dinner and watch The Fly with my family. The kids had never seen it and really wanted to.

I forgot how disgusting BrundalFly became.

But it was neat to watch one of my favorite movies from the 80s with my kids.

Free Advice for Today: “Don’t buy someone else’s trouble.”