As my stint in the Coast Guard came to an end, I applied for a job with the customs. A customs official
came to our Coast Guard station to check me out and interview my boss, a guy who would never win a Mr. Congeniality award. Through paper-thin walls, I heard the customs official ask, "Would you trust Mike to walk into a bank vault lined with money and not take any?"
My boss shot back, "How the hell should I know? I don't work at a bank!"
After my husband, a veteran, spoke at an elementary school, a student asked what he ate during battle.
"C rations," he replied, using the Army term for mostly canned food.
"Ooh!" she squealed. "I love seafood."
While standing watch in the Coast Guard station in Juneau, Alaska, I got a call from the Navy. They had lost control with one of their planes and needed us to send an aircraft to find it. I asked the man where the plane had last been spotted so we would know where to search.
"I can't tell you," he said. "That's classified."
My boss shot back, "How the hell should I know? I don't work at a bank!"
After my husband, a veteran, spoke at an elementary school, a student asked what he ate during battle.
"C rations," he replied, using the Army term for mostly canned food.
"Ooh!" she squealed. "I love seafood."
While standing watch in the Coast Guard station in Juneau, Alaska, I got a call from the Navy. They had lost control with one of their planes and needed us to send an aircraft to find it. I asked the man where the plane had last been spotted so we would know where to search.
"I can't tell you," he said. "That's classified."
Bwahahahahahaha, and that last one is spot on. Our government that doesn't know what the left or right hand is doing.
ReplyDeleteHave a terrific day. :)