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From the Raging Main

I've been hitting the gym pretty regularly now. One of the other chiefs
and I are dragging each other up there every day at 1600, whether we
like it or not. The only thing that interferes is watch and the
occasional unplanned work item, like today when the department chiefs
got together to rank our First Class Petty Officers for their
evaluations.



Ranking's usually easier than it sounds. Oddly enough, the top folks
are almost never in contention because everyone knows what the best of
them are doing. The bottom of the pile is self-selecting. It's sorting
out how the middle of the pack falls out that's the real problem. Some
folks always vote for their own guy, but I don't. I really have no
problem putting someone else's guy above my own if they're performing
better-just like I have no problem putting my guy on top when he really
is the top dog in the pack.



The hardest thing about ranking? It's too late. It's too late to go
back and tell my our guy what he's got to do to be competitive, too late
to push her into accomplishing what she needs to accomplish, and too
late to be honest and tell the guy what he's got to do to improve.
(Now, whether they listen or not is another story.) In short, it's too
late to do my job. How fortunate that I and my other two chiefs
have been doing our jobs all year. ;o)



Speaking of evaluations-for Chiefs and officers, it's a Fitness Report.
I got mine a little bit ago, since the report date was 16 Sep. I was
actually pretty happy, but in some ways not so happy. It was a damned
good report, and I did very well in the mix. The problem is ... where
does one go from peak performance? Sometimes, it's like the weight of
everyone's expectations are sitting on my shoulders. Expected to take
care of business, expected to have good advice, expected to make senior
chief ... but sometimes a girl just gets tired.



And now for something completely different:



Mini skirts should almost never be wider than they are long.



People really can turn back or change time. It's the past that's the
bitch to alter.



Managing a group of intelligent technicians is like herding cats.



Linkies:



Upload
ing the weapons.
And with luck, we'll take the same missiles right
back out on the way back home. But then again, I have a history of
being on ships that are late to the party and never expend ordnance.



Traini
ng the teams.
One of the jobs I have successfully managed to avoid,
and will continue to do so, is the Force Protection Training Team.



Feedin
g the lot of us.
I had onion rings and fried shrimp before I came
on watch tonight ... but I missed dinner and the stuff on the hotbar
sucked, so I had a peanut-butter and banana sandwich. Oh, and the other
day, I asked the cook to put bacon in my grilled cheese. Yummy!
("Heathen," my Jewish buddy called me, and grinned. "Yep. And it
tastes even better than ham!" I said, grinning back.)

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