LibraryLady
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Case Study: Sun Tzu, III/31
- Thread starter Marauder06
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Faith just fucked up by not shaking hands, respect rank and be polite in public.
Faith is doomed as he has two enemies, and the Dud will leverage the new guy to zip faith.
Faith is doomed as he has two enemies, and the Dud will leverage the new guy to zip faith.
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Faith is well and truly finished.
This needs to end in a full on Officer brawl.
I now think this entire case study has been written entirely to give Mara the opportunity to make this joke.Oh, ye of little... /sunglasses/ ... faith.
- Joined
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With swords.
Oh, ye of little... /sunglasses/ ... faith.
Oh come on, I got "hate" for that comment? That was both funny AND witty. And timely. And almost... Freefalling -esque in its execution.
I hope your career goes just like David Caruso's
If it doesn't wrap up soon, I'm going to go LAPD-style and burn this thread down... :wall:
One problem. You dont have a match.
After talking with the commander’s secretary, Faith discovered that there was no availability for an office call until after the upcoming inspection. Faith was suspicious that he was being put off, until the secretary, who Faith had known for a long time and with whom he had a good relationship, gave Faith a glimpse at the commander’s calendar. “You’ll have to wait until after the inspection,” she reiterated, “unless you want to come by at…” she checked the calendar again, “Sunday at 2100 hours.” Faith decided to pass.
Faith’s relationship with the commander’s secretary dated back to an unfortunate incident involving Chief Rollins and CPT Al James (RIP). (author’s note: see case study “Karma“ for further insight into this incident) She was a witness to what had happened, and she and Faith bonded over the incident. Faith always made it a point to come by and see her every time he was in the Group headquarters building, whether he needed something or not. She was always fun to talk to, and she provided a wealth of useful “insider” information. Besides, she always had a glass container full of chocolate on her desk. That alone made it worth the trip. Faith took off the glass top, helped himself to a handful of Hershey’s Kisses and sat down in an overstuffed easy chair across from the secretary’s desk.
“So,” he asked almost casually, “what was the deal with the Commander’s meeting this morning?”
“Oh, you mean with that Major Roberts?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “That guy is a real piece of work.”
“What do you mean?” Faith asked.
“Well, first of all, he has been calling the Group non-stop for almost a month now, trying to get his foot in the door with the commander. First he tried with the S1, and when the S1 told him to get lost, he came to me. I put him off because he said he wanted a job and he had some important information to share with the Commander, but I thought he was a coconut so I told him no way. Then he corners the Commander directly one day at a meeting he was having over at Division, and the Commander told me to put him on the schedule. So there we are.”
Faith smiled; calling someone a “coconut” was about the strongest language that Faith ever heard her use.
“Yeah,” Faith said, “I worked for him in one of my previous assignments. He’s a complete…” Faith paused as he thought of a word he could use that wouldn’t offend her, “…toolbag,” he finally settled on.
“Yeah, well, watch out because I heard him say he wants to come back to Group. The only jobs he could take are either the job you have now,” she said, meaning the Group MID, “or the one you’re going to,” meaning the Group S2 shop.
“I’ll just have to make sure I do a good enough job that he doesn’t get either one,” Faith replied.
“Please do,” she answered, “because I remember when he was here before. Group MID commander, if I recall. He was lazy, he was a bully, and no one liked him. But no one put it down on paper, so he left with a decent OER and ended up talking himself into a job at Delta when he left here. We don’t need him back.”
“Roberts was an operator at Delta?” Faith asked, surprised. Roberts had told Faith that he had been in Delta, but Roberts had said so many outlandish things, especially after he had been drinking, that Faith didn’t believe much of what he said.
“Heavens no!” the secretary exclaimed. “He was a support guy for them, just like he was for us.”
“But he’s tabbed,” Faith countered, referring to the Special Forces tab that Roberts wore, “I thought that he would have tried out for an operator position.”
The secretary rolled her eyes again. “He’s a paper tab.”
Faith hadn’t heard that term before. “A what?”
“He earned his tab through correspondence school,” she explained.
“Get out!” Faith exclaimed. “You can’t get a Special Forces tab through correspondence school.”
“Not any more,” the secretary explained, “but there was a time that you could do it. A short time in the field, I think, and some correspondence classes and BAM!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “you’re Special Forces qualified. They did away with that about the time that SF became a separate branch, and most of the guys who got their paper tabs have separated from the service. But some of them are still hanging around, like our friend Mr. Roberts.”
“That’s very interesting,” Faith muttered, thinking about all the things Roberts told him when the two were at their previous duty station, before animosity developed between them.
Faith’s relationship with the commander’s secretary dated back to an unfortunate incident involving Chief Rollins and CPT Al James (RIP). (author’s note: see case study “Karma“ for further insight into this incident) She was a witness to what had happened, and she and Faith bonded over the incident. Faith always made it a point to come by and see her every time he was in the Group headquarters building, whether he needed something or not. She was always fun to talk to, and she provided a wealth of useful “insider” information. Besides, she always had a glass container full of chocolate on her desk. That alone made it worth the trip. Faith took off the glass top, helped himself to a handful of Hershey’s Kisses and sat down in an overstuffed easy chair across from the secretary’s desk.
“So,” he asked almost casually, “what was the deal with the Commander’s meeting this morning?”
“Oh, you mean with that Major Roberts?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “That guy is a real piece of work.”
“What do you mean?” Faith asked.
“Well, first of all, he has been calling the Group non-stop for almost a month now, trying to get his foot in the door with the commander. First he tried with the S1, and when the S1 told him to get lost, he came to me. I put him off because he said he wanted a job and he had some important information to share with the Commander, but I thought he was a coconut so I told him no way. Then he corners the Commander directly one day at a meeting he was having over at Division, and the Commander told me to put him on the schedule. So there we are.”
Faith smiled; calling someone a “coconut” was about the strongest language that Faith ever heard her use.
“Yeah,” Faith said, “I worked for him in one of my previous assignments. He’s a complete…” Faith paused as he thought of a word he could use that wouldn’t offend her, “…toolbag,” he finally settled on.
“Yeah, well, watch out because I heard him say he wants to come back to Group. The only jobs he could take are either the job you have now,” she said, meaning the Group MID, “or the one you’re going to,” meaning the Group S2 shop.
“I’ll just have to make sure I do a good enough job that he doesn’t get either one,” Faith replied.
“Please do,” she answered, “because I remember when he was here before. Group MID commander, if I recall. He was lazy, he was a bully, and no one liked him. But no one put it down on paper, so he left with a decent OER and ended up talking himself into a job at Delta when he left here. We don’t need him back.”
“Roberts was an operator at Delta?” Faith asked, surprised. Roberts had told Faith that he had been in Delta, but Roberts had said so many outlandish things, especially after he had been drinking, that Faith didn’t believe much of what he said.
“Heavens no!” the secretary exclaimed. “He was a support guy for them, just like he was for us.”
“But he’s tabbed,” Faith countered, referring to the Special Forces tab that Roberts wore, “I thought that he would have tried out for an operator position.”
The secretary rolled her eyes again. “He’s a paper tab.”
Faith hadn’t heard that term before. “A what?”
“He earned his tab through correspondence school,” she explained.
“Get out!” Faith exclaimed. “You can’t get a Special Forces tab through correspondence school.”
“Not any more,” the secretary explained, “but there was a time that you could do it. A short time in the field, I think, and some correspondence classes and BAM!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “you’re Special Forces qualified. They did away with that about the time that SF became a separate branch, and most of the guys who got their paper tabs have separated from the service. But some of them are still hanging around, like our friend Mr. Roberts.”
“That’s very interesting,” Faith muttered, thinking about all the things Roberts told him when the two were at their previous duty station, before animosity developed between them.
But I do. And if the right person gives me the green light, I'm whipping that baby out...
A short while later, Faith was working in his office when there was a short series of raps on his door. Faith looked up and was surprised to see it was Chief Michaels.
“Holy shit Chief, what brings you all the way over here to the MID?” Faith asked cheerfully. Michaels said nothing, but closed the door behind him and pulled a chair over next to Faith’s desk.
“Hey sir, are you doing anything this Friday?” he asked, rather sheepishly.
“I’m leading PT that morning and I have a couple of appointments in the morning, but I could reschedule if you need it,” Faith replied.
“What about in the afternoon, say 1530 or so?” Michaels inquired.
“Yeah, sure Chief, what do you need me to do?”
“Come to my retirement ceremony.” The way Michaels said it, it came out more as a question than a statement.
Faith was stunned. “I’m sorry, your what?”
“Sir, I’m retiring on Friday and I would love it if you could come to my ceremony, 1530 hours, at the Lodge.”
“Yes, of course, it would be my pleasure,” Faith stammered. “I didn’t know… I mean it wasn’t mentioned in the Group training meeting or anything.” Usually, important milestones like retirements are a big deal and are handled as such.
“Yeah,” Michaels replied, “I don’t want a big ceremony or anything, and I’m only inviting people…” he paused, “…people who matter to me. So I’d love it if you could come by. I’m asking you not to tell advertise it, and don’t bring me a gift or anything that’s going to clutter up my walls or my bookshelf.”
Faith smiled. This was SO much like Chief Michaels. “Chief, it would be my pleasure. I’m deeply honored that you would invite me to something like this. Is it cool for me to bring a guest?”
“Your wife or something?” Michaels replied, “Yeah, no problem. Class A uniform. See you there.” He stood up to leave.
“Not my wife,” Faith thought to himself, “but definitely “or someone.”
As Chief Michaels was standing up to leave, First Sergeant Reynolds burst into the room. “Oh, sorry sir, I didn’t know you were in here,” he said breathlessly.
“It’s all good, we were done here. I was just about to walk Chief Michaels out.”
“Ok, sir, but when you’re done there’s something I need to talk to you about,” Reynolds said urgently.
“Sir, I’m pretty sure I can find my way out of here on my own,” Michaels said with a smile, holding out his hand. Faith took it and squeezed it firmly. “See you Friday.”
“What’s happening Friday?” Reynolds inquired. Faith ignored the question.
“What’s got you so exited?” he asked instead.
“Sir, it looks like a classified laptop has gone missing.”
“Holy shit Chief, what brings you all the way over here to the MID?” Faith asked cheerfully. Michaels said nothing, but closed the door behind him and pulled a chair over next to Faith’s desk.
“Hey sir, are you doing anything this Friday?” he asked, rather sheepishly.
“I’m leading PT that morning and I have a couple of appointments in the morning, but I could reschedule if you need it,” Faith replied.
“What about in the afternoon, say 1530 or so?” Michaels inquired.
“Yeah, sure Chief, what do you need me to do?”
“Come to my retirement ceremony.” The way Michaels said it, it came out more as a question than a statement.
Faith was stunned. “I’m sorry, your what?”
“Sir, I’m retiring on Friday and I would love it if you could come to my ceremony, 1530 hours, at the Lodge.”
“Yes, of course, it would be my pleasure,” Faith stammered. “I didn’t know… I mean it wasn’t mentioned in the Group training meeting or anything.” Usually, important milestones like retirements are a big deal and are handled as such.
“Yeah,” Michaels replied, “I don’t want a big ceremony or anything, and I’m only inviting people…” he paused, “…people who matter to me. So I’d love it if you could come by. I’m asking you not to tell advertise it, and don’t bring me a gift or anything that’s going to clutter up my walls or my bookshelf.”
Faith smiled. This was SO much like Chief Michaels. “Chief, it would be my pleasure. I’m deeply honored that you would invite me to something like this. Is it cool for me to bring a guest?”
“Your wife or something?” Michaels replied, “Yeah, no problem. Class A uniform. See you there.” He stood up to leave.
“Not my wife,” Faith thought to himself, “but definitely “or someone.”
As Chief Michaels was standing up to leave, First Sergeant Reynolds burst into the room. “Oh, sorry sir, I didn’t know you were in here,” he said breathlessly.
“It’s all good, we were done here. I was just about to walk Chief Michaels out.”
“Ok, sir, but when you’re done there’s something I need to talk to you about,” Reynolds said urgently.
“Sir, I’m pretty sure I can find my way out of here on my own,” Michaels said with a smile, holding out his hand. Faith took it and squeezed it firmly. “See you Friday.”
“What’s happening Friday?” Reynolds inquired. Faith ignored the question.
“What’s got you so exited?” he asked instead.
“Sir, it looks like a classified laptop has gone missing.”
Got your WO's and SNCOs mixed up there at the end.
Thanks- fixed.
Faith was silent for a moment. “We don’t lose classified laptops in the MID,” he said evenly.
“Roger sir. But one is unaccounted-for,” Reynolds responded.
Faith sat back in his chair. This was kind of a big deal; losing positive control of a classified laptop was a serious security breach. Not “serious” like not marking legitimate visitors to the SCIF, more like a “serious potential breach of national security” type thing.
“Which one is it?” Faith asked.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Reynolds responded. “It’s on hand receipt to the Group S2 shop-“
“Figures,” Faith interrupted.
“-but when I went to ask them to show it to me, they presented a hand receipt showing it was signed over to SGT Turner two weeks ago.” Faith remembered that SGT Turner had been an affable but overweight NCO in the MID who had been assisting with the turn-in of classified electronic systems while he was awaiting being chaptered out of the Army for not meeting height/weight standards. He had separated just three days ago.
“Could Turner have put it somewhere?” Faith inquired, “Or even taken it with him?”
“Could be sir, we don’t know right now. Chief Rollins is down there turning the whole SCIF out to try to find this thing.” That was good at least, if anyone would be able to find this thing, it would be Chief Rollins.
“We don’t need this right now,” Faith groaned. “OK look, right now the time is…” he glanced down at his watch, “1435. People are going to start leaving at 1530. If we don’t track this thing down in the next 30 minutes, we need to let the DCO know. There’s going to have to be a lockdown.”
Any time any classified material went missing, or a “sensitive item” such as communication equipment, weapons, or explosives went unaccounted-for, the protocol was for the unit in question to be “locked down” in place, whether that be in garrison or the field, until the item in question was located, or an official investigation conducted and the unit officially released. No one could leave the area, and no one from outside could come in. It was an ENORMOUS pain in the ass, and the unit responsible was usually given a figurative black eye for the inconvenience caused, not to mention the impact of losing whatever it was that triggered the lockdown. Faith didn’t want it to get that far, but he had an obligation to set the process in motion if they didn’t recover that laptop- fast.
“OK, let’s get on it, then,” Faith instructed. “Call everyone in from training, get the recall roster out and start dialing everyone on leave. And see if we still have a number for the former SGT Turner.”
“Will do, sir,” Reynolds said, departing the office.
Faith sat back in his chair to think. A classified laptop, belonging to the S2 shop, turned in a couple of weeks ago. Faith vaguely remembered something like that, an old Dell laptop that had ceased functioning and was scheduled to be destroyed, but because it had once stored classified material, the system had to be de-gaussed and the hard drive destroyed in a specific manner before it could be sent off to the Defense Reutilization and Marketing Office (DRMO) and could officially be taken off the MID’s books.
Faith thought it was unlikely that SGT Turner would have stolen a broken classified laptop on his way out the door. Although he was getting chaptered out, the parting between him and the Army was pretty amicable. Due to a technicality, he got to keep his enlistment bonus, and the people in the MID treated him well. He wasn’t a “bad” guy, he was just a “fat” guy. No, Faith thought, he wouldn’t have stolen it. And Faith didn’t think he was the kind of guy that would hide it somewhere to try to make the unit look bad. But in the rush to clear the unit and get on with his life he may, Faith imagined, have put it somewhere that no one else thought to look. Faith snapped his fingers. The electronics control cage! He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. “Let me speak to Chief Rollins,” he growled, knowing that the person who answered the phone would recognize his voice.
“Yes, sir?” Chief Rollins answered a few seconds later, stress evidenced in her voice.
“Hey, First Sergeant filled me in on what happened. Give me an update.”
“Well, I called everyone in the SCIF back in from the range and off of leave. We have completely cleared out one of the back rooms, and then we’re moving things into it one at a time, checking every serial number off of every comparable computer. We have opened every cubby, looked under every desk, and completely ransacked SGT Turner’s old workspace. Nothing. We even looked in the electronics control cage.”
Crap, Faith thought, there goes that idea.
“OK, so what’s next?” he asked.
“I’m about out of ideas, sir. We checked with the property book guys to make sure it didn’t get turned in, and that the serial number we’re looking for is the correct one. We also tried calling SGT Turner but his number got disconnected when he moved. We’re trying to track him down now. Any other suggestions?”
Faith had none; as usual, Rollins had thought of pretty much everything.
“I’ve got nothing Chief, sounds like you’re all over it. I’ll be down there myself in a few minutes to help out.”
“Roger, sir,” Rollins said with a sigh.
“Roger sir. But one is unaccounted-for,” Reynolds responded.
Faith sat back in his chair. This was kind of a big deal; losing positive control of a classified laptop was a serious security breach. Not “serious” like not marking legitimate visitors to the SCIF, more like a “serious potential breach of national security” type thing.
“Which one is it?” Faith asked.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Reynolds responded. “It’s on hand receipt to the Group S2 shop-“
“Figures,” Faith interrupted.
“-but when I went to ask them to show it to me, they presented a hand receipt showing it was signed over to SGT Turner two weeks ago.” Faith remembered that SGT Turner had been an affable but overweight NCO in the MID who had been assisting with the turn-in of classified electronic systems while he was awaiting being chaptered out of the Army for not meeting height/weight standards. He had separated just three days ago.
“Could Turner have put it somewhere?” Faith inquired, “Or even taken it with him?”
“Could be sir, we don’t know right now. Chief Rollins is down there turning the whole SCIF out to try to find this thing.” That was good at least, if anyone would be able to find this thing, it would be Chief Rollins.
“We don’t need this right now,” Faith groaned. “OK look, right now the time is…” he glanced down at his watch, “1435. People are going to start leaving at 1530. If we don’t track this thing down in the next 30 minutes, we need to let the DCO know. There’s going to have to be a lockdown.”
Any time any classified material went missing, or a “sensitive item” such as communication equipment, weapons, or explosives went unaccounted-for, the protocol was for the unit in question to be “locked down” in place, whether that be in garrison or the field, until the item in question was located, or an official investigation conducted and the unit officially released. No one could leave the area, and no one from outside could come in. It was an ENORMOUS pain in the ass, and the unit responsible was usually given a figurative black eye for the inconvenience caused, not to mention the impact of losing whatever it was that triggered the lockdown. Faith didn’t want it to get that far, but he had an obligation to set the process in motion if they didn’t recover that laptop- fast.
“OK, let’s get on it, then,” Faith instructed. “Call everyone in from training, get the recall roster out and start dialing everyone on leave. And see if we still have a number for the former SGT Turner.”
“Will do, sir,” Reynolds said, departing the office.
Faith sat back in his chair to think. A classified laptop, belonging to the S2 shop, turned in a couple of weeks ago. Faith vaguely remembered something like that, an old Dell laptop that had ceased functioning and was scheduled to be destroyed, but because it had once stored classified material, the system had to be de-gaussed and the hard drive destroyed in a specific manner before it could be sent off to the Defense Reutilization and Marketing Office (DRMO) and could officially be taken off the MID’s books.
Faith thought it was unlikely that SGT Turner would have stolen a broken classified laptop on his way out the door. Although he was getting chaptered out, the parting between him and the Army was pretty amicable. Due to a technicality, he got to keep his enlistment bonus, and the people in the MID treated him well. He wasn’t a “bad” guy, he was just a “fat” guy. No, Faith thought, he wouldn’t have stolen it. And Faith didn’t think he was the kind of guy that would hide it somewhere to try to make the unit look bad. But in the rush to clear the unit and get on with his life he may, Faith imagined, have put it somewhere that no one else thought to look. Faith snapped his fingers. The electronics control cage! He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. “Let me speak to Chief Rollins,” he growled, knowing that the person who answered the phone would recognize his voice.
“Yes, sir?” Chief Rollins answered a few seconds later, stress evidenced in her voice.
“Hey, First Sergeant filled me in on what happened. Give me an update.”
“Well, I called everyone in the SCIF back in from the range and off of leave. We have completely cleared out one of the back rooms, and then we’re moving things into it one at a time, checking every serial number off of every comparable computer. We have opened every cubby, looked under every desk, and completely ransacked SGT Turner’s old workspace. Nothing. We even looked in the electronics control cage.”
Crap, Faith thought, there goes that idea.
“OK, so what’s next?” he asked.
“I’m about out of ideas, sir. We checked with the property book guys to make sure it didn’t get turned in, and that the serial number we’re looking for is the correct one. We also tried calling SGT Turner but his number got disconnected when he moved. We’re trying to track him down now. Any other suggestions?”
Faith had none; as usual, Rollins had thought of pretty much everything.
“I’ve got nothing Chief, sounds like you’re all over it. I’ll be down there myself in a few minutes to help out.”
“Roger, sir,” Rollins said with a sigh.
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