Chapter 33: Murphy, you suck

Back to where I was discharged from, except I was stationed one block down from the I&I Staff. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would have been stationed at MCRSC. To me, this is where punished Marines went to work. Correcting retirement point reports was not fun, but I knew that would be my new job.
Looking at my orders from Yuma, I never realized that what they said were orders weren't exactly orders. The CONAD from Yuma transferred me back to Kansas City on a request. I never read the actual message that was attached to my official orders. This wasn't good.  I technically could be considered as UA since I didn't technically have HQMC authority to transfer back home nor did I know what type of orders I was on. Were they TAD orders? Were they transfer orders? I had no idea which uniform to check in with! So, I went with my Alphas.
I put my ribbons on my Alphas, got dressed, and proceeded to drop the kids off at daycare. On my way into the center, my baby threw up on my Alphas. Baby vomit and gabardine wool in the warm sun does not smell good. Strike one. On my drive to work, I hit a pothole and had a flat tire. I was on the side of the highway, in my Alphas, changing my tire. Strike two. Then the wind blew my cover into the highway and was ran over by a diesel. Not the piss cutter, but the bucket cover. Strike three. I am still not out for the count because Murphy and his stupid laws are always against me. On my way to the Exchange to buy a new piss cutter, my seatbelt took the "M" device off of my Armed Forced Reserve Medal. Great. Strike four.
I went inside the exchange to buy a device along with a new cover.  They didn't have a woman's piss cutter or a device. Strike 5. I was starting to think that the Reserve gods were punishing me for being mean to the Reservists when I was on I&I duty.  So about a $100 or so later, I had a new bucket cover that was a size too small and no device. I was still out of uniform. I looked down at my Alpha blouse and realized that my seat belt also ripped off my blouse button. Strike 6. I went inside the exchange and bought a sewing kit. I was in my car, completely frustrated, sewing that damn button on. It was only 0800. And you think your Monday mornings are rough.
I checked into MCRSC looking like a hot mess. I held my record book close to my chest, hoping no one would notice that I was missing the device on my ribbon. Of course, things didn't go my way. I turned around and the Staff Duty zoned right onto it. "Hey, Marine, you know you need a device on that AFRM, right?" "Yes, Staff Sergeant, I had one, but...." "Hey, Marine, how did you get here?" He had this confused look on his face as he read my orders. "Um, my car?" "Dumbass, I know you drove here, but you don't have official orders. There is no appropriation data, no transfer info, nothing. Who told you to come here and why are you in Alpha's anyway?" Seriously, I wanted to kick this man in the shin. "The RPAC in San Diego sent me here." Great, the Staff Sergeant that used to work at MCRSC that was mad at me for taking back his records books while I was on I&I Duty was now going to hear an ear full from this arrogant prick of a Staff Duty. Why me? How many strikes am I allowed in one day?
This was the one day where I wished I could have had an easy button.


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