Soldier-type gentleman and casual drunk.
I am a reasonable man.
But I do not care for people getting all up in my business.
For example, today is Friday - which usually constitutes as a half day in the military. Well, for me it does. But for reasons X, Y and Z I'm still in my office sorting stuff out for an upcoming exercise. After a fun 4 hours of battling with the IT systems and trying to explain to my boss that his wonderful master plan is not going to work and then having to accept that he's the company commander and I'm just a smelly junior officer and I'm always wrong, I thought "fuck it I'm going to KFC for lunch."
So I did.
Got a nice little Boneless Banquet and began chowwing down, sat in my car watching the world go by. Then the boss rings.
"Why aren't you in your office?"
"Cos it's lunch time sir."
"Have you got me a map yet?"
"Yes I've got you a map sir."
"Good. Pick me up from my house tomorrow morning at 0700. Get back to work."
Nowhere in my job description does it detail that I'm his bitch. Nor does it say that I'm a glorified taxi driver. After hanging up, and struggling with the laggy and unresponsive Samsung phone I have, and suddenly remembering I still haven't printed some stuff off after I ragequit with the IT systems earlier on in the day, I snapped.
"Oh my fucking god, you utter horse's cock." I shouted at no one in particular, before letting off a string of other obscenities.
After a moment there was a tap on the window, and a stout, bored-looking police officer stood next to my car door.
"Was that you, sir?" Porky inquired.
"What?" I replied through a mouthful of chicken.
"Using language like that in a public place is a criminal offense."
"I'm pretty sure it's not. And besides, I'm in my car. That's pretty private."
"I could hear you from over there sir. There's kids around here - what if they had heard you?"
"If there were children present, I'd be expecting you to be asking them why they're not in school. It's half 12 on a Friday. It's been many years since I've been at school but I'm pretty sure Friday is still a school day."
"Don't tell me my job sir." Porky continued. "I could give you a written warning for this."
"Alright, fine." I relented. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Porky continued to list the great risks of using profane language in public while I nodded along and said "Mmm" and "yes" at irregular intervals, thinking to myself that the language I'd used was actually frequently heard in music and television and that Porky was really just a jobsworth who was bored on a Friday afternoon.
After about 10 minutes, Porky waddled off - his ego stoked after belittling a twenty-something year old soldier, while secretly wishing his uniform looked half as classy as mine.
Rant over. I've still got work to do.
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