Original The Peanuts The Smiths Don’t Forget The Songs That Saved Your Life Shirt

 I asked everyone I could find where an AG would go and everyone had the Original The Peanuts The Smiths Don’t Forget The Songs That Saved Your Life Shirt also I will do this exact same response; “what the fuck is an AG?” So, eventually I just left. I did this for about a week until a Senior Chief (E8) on watch asked me why I always leave so early and I explained to him that I didn’t even know where my office was and I couldn’t find anyone that was able to help me. He was new too and quickly became my buddy, or as good of a buddy as an E3 and an E8 could be. I got to the Stennis the day after it had returned to port from back to back deployments, so no one was friendly to me. Everyone had been going through a nasty divorce and/or was just sick of the Navy. I had quickly learned to just take the shit and do my own thing. A couple of weeks later the ship went into the shipyards for 18 months. People in Operations Department don’t really have a job while the ship is in the yards so we were tasked with Fire Watch. What’s Fire Watch, you ask? It’s where the dumbass civilian contractors weld in the most terrible parts of the ship where humans aren’t supposed to go (water tanks, in the reactors, up through tiny holes on the bottom of the ship) and they have shifts that rotate out for upwards of 20 hours at a time and we, the sailors, have to go to whatever is on the other side of what they’re welding and sit there for all 20 hours in the pitch black, alone. We weren’t authorized any electronic devices, so no music. We were threatened with captains mast if we brought food or water. The only things we had with us were a bunch of empty bottles for our dip spit and piss.

To this day, 6 months out of the Original The Peanuts The Smiths Don’t Forget The Songs That Saved Your Life Shirt also I will do this Navy and 2 years out of the yards, when I see a good empty bottle in the trash I consider taking it. Bottles were gold. That went on for 18–20 hours a day, 6–7 days a week, for 18 months. We were miserable and the only person who seemed to care was my Senior Chief (you remember him, right?) He had been researching AGs and found out I had to go to a years worth of schools and he pushed all of the paperwork to send me to them all at once. These were in San Diego with other AGs who were all on shore duty, and the only ones I’ve interacted with in more than a year. Every day I’d get yelled at for spitting in bottles and for the language I used. They’d all bitch that I didn’t know how to do my job, and I’d tell them that this isn’t my job. My primary job was to be the Work Center Supervisor for OPS Department for the upcoming INSURV inspection and to make sure that every division passed. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about AG bullshit. Needless to say, these guys were pampered bitches and I hated them for never having a day of hard work. They never took out a bag of trash, painted anything, needle gunned, stood a watch, or gotten fucked up for something they did out in town.

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