Скачать или смотреть What military assignment felt like a punishment disguised as a reward?

What military assignment felt like a punishment disguised as a reward? I got "promoted" to Pentagon liaison officer, which sounds prestigious until you realize it meant babysitting the world's most demanding general for 18 months. Lieutenant General Crawford was legendary for all the wrong reasons. Three-star general, decorated combat veteran, and absolutely impossible to work with. He'd burned through 12 aides in two years. My colonel calls me in and says, "Congratulations, Captain Martinez. You've been selected for a special assignment at the Pentagon. You'll be General Crawford's new executive officer." I'm thinking this is my big break. Pentagon assignment, working directly with a general, fast track to promotion. I practically floated out of that office. Reality hit on day one. General Crawford's morning routine started at 0430 with a two-hour workout, followed by exactly 47 minutes of breakfast preparation. Not 45 minutes, not 50 minutes - 47 minutes. His coffee had to be Colombian dark roast, brewed at exactly 195 degrees, served in his grandfather's Navy mug that I had to hand-wash and dry with a specific towel. If the coffee was wrong, he'd make me start over. I once re-brewed coffee six times because the temperature was 193 degrees instead of 195. But the real nightmare was his schedule management. Crawford changed his mind about meetings every 10 minutes. I'd spend an hour coordinating a briefing with five colonels, then he'd decide he wanted it moved 30 minutes earlier. Except he wouldn't tell me directly. He'd mention it casually while walking to the bathroom, expecting me to telepathically understand and reschedule everything. I was basically a high-ranking secretary with a security clearance, juggling the schedules of 50 senior officers while Crawford treated me like his personal valet. The absurd requests kept escalating. Crawford once made me drive across D.C. during rush hour to get his favorite pen from his apartment because the one on his desk "didn't feel right." Another time, he sent me to three different dry cleaners looking for one that could press his uniform "the way his mother used to." His mother had been dead for 15 years. The breaking point came during a Pentagon ceremony honoring Medal of Honor recipients. Big event, lots of VIPs, cameras everywhere. Crawford decides 10 minutes before the ceremony that his dress uniform isn't pressed correctly. Sends me to find an iron and press his jacket in a Pentagon bathroom. I'm in the men's room, ironing a general's jacket over a sink, when the Secretary of Defense walks in. He sees me ironing clothes and asks, "Son, what exactly are you doing?" I explain the situation, expecting him to understand that generals have high standards. Instead, he looks horrified. "You're a decorated infantry captain and they have you ironing clothes?" Turns out, nobody told me that Crawford's previous aides had all requested transfers because he was treating them like personal servants instead of military officers. The Secretary calls Crawford immediately and has a very direct conversation about appropriate use of military personnel. Crawford gets reassigned to a desk job reviewing supply catalogs. I get transferred to lead an infantry company in Germany. Six months later, I'm commanding 120 soldiers in actual military operations while Crawford is somewhere categorizing office furniture for the Army. My "punishment" assignment turned out to be Crawford's punishment for being impossible to work with. The Pentagon had been using junior officers as sacrificial lambs until someone with actual authority noticed. Sometimes what looks like a promotion is actually someone else's demotion waiting to happen.