Gomez, You're fucked!

 Way back in the day when I was in the navy, my first duty station was on the USS Enterprise. I arrived on that ship fresh out of boot camp as an E-1, a seaman recruit. The navy swapped out time in rating requirements for E1 to E2 to E3, meaning that by the time I made E3, I had multiple deployments under my belt, and was a highly decorated combat veteran. I had been sent TAD (temporary assigned duty) multiple times to multiple locations throughout the ship, including the mess decks, ship's laundry, and logistics. One needs to understand that an E3 is the highest rank one can achieve in the military without become an NCO (non-commissioned officer) or petty officer in the navy. 

Being that I was not a petty office or NCO, that means I had zero responsibility for anyone. I only had to look out for myself. This also meant that as a senior E3, I knew damned well how the ship worked and I knew how to get shit done. I could do things that no one else could because I had the 'hook-ups'. Friends in low places. 

I'd like to introduce now the person at the other end of the spectrum: the Master Chief. He is the HIGHEST rank NCO or enlisted person in the navy. Not everyone becomes a master chief, and as such they command a lot of respect and can do things that no one else can. Master Chief and I got along famously. Meaning he was always kicking my ass. So much so that a saying became popular in our circles: 

GOMEZ, YOU'RE FUCKED!

This is what Master Chief would say quite often. For shits and grins, I'll include a quick example:

Our division office was right off the mess decks and I worked evening shift. One night at about 9pm, there's a knock at the office, I answer the door and my good friend hands me a big ole sheet pan full of grilled bacon egg and cheese sandwiches. I grab the sammies, close the door and go back inside. This is the dialog that then ensued:

Master Chief (MC) What was that?

Me: Nothing, just a delivery of bacon egg and cheese sandwiches.

MC: I can see that, but WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT??!!

Me:.....

Me: it's a delivery. (I grab one, to drive home a point) Of bacon. Egg. And cheese sanwiches. (I now take a bite) Would you like one?

MC:....

MC: GOMEZ YOU'RE FUCKED! Give me one! (takes two)

I then hand out sammies for the rest of the crew. 

So that was the back and forth I'd have with the MC. I'd do something outrageous, he'd tell me I'm fucked. Then he'd kick my ass. He was not nice. He was however, kind. Meaning yes, he'd kick my ass but he would protect us from everything else because everyone knew not to fuck with the Master Chief.

Except me. 

So one night, I'm off the ship, but at the pier at a payphone. I see a cute little red sports car pull up. Might have been a corvette. But out of the passenger side I see a very inebriated pop out of the car. After exchanging good byes, he staggers down the pier and up the ship's plank, teetering to one side, then the other the whole way. 

The next morning at muster, MC asks if anyone has anything else. 

I raise my hand! 

MC: What is it, Gomez?

Me: MC, I just wanted to thank you for demonstrating a concept I did not understand until last night.

MC: What the fuck are you talking about, Gomez??!!

Me: Well, I had hear that the buildings in San Francisco are designed to sway in the event of an earthquake. And no matter how much then sway they will not topple. I never did understand how that worked. Until last night, when I saw you returning to ship. You swayed to the left. You swayed to the right. But no matter how much you swayed, you remained upright.

(laughter from everyone ensues, including a smile from MC)

MC: GOMEZ, YOU'RE FUCKED!

Me: Aye, Master Chief!

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