Painting Tops Office

[calliope_1]

An oldie of mine, to see what you think of it, and if you would like more of my stories. Most have a strong humor element to them, though I can get serious on occasion. Please drop me a note of feedback to let me know what you think!

Painting Tops Office
or
First Sergeants Have No Sense of Humor

There is something about being the First Sergeant of an Army Unit which can change an otherwise normal human being into a complete stick in the mud. I know that someplace waaaay in the past, Top had to have been a know-nothing skeeter wing private like the rest of us, whose interests lay in beer and having fun- you know, like a normal soldier. You couldn’t tell it from the way he behaves nowadays though. Mr. Dull in a green suit, he is. No sense of humor at all.
Case in point- his unreasonable aversion to people dancing in the rain during company formations. Not that this is my normal behavior, of course. It was just this one time, when the conditions were perfect for it. See, it had been a long hot summer day of doing dull grunt work (which is one reason we Army folks are nicknamed “grunts” I guess). During the final formation of the day in the company area, when all we could think about was racing to the chow hall, it suddenly started to rain lightly. No problem, we were big tough Army peoples, we could handle it. The rain got heavier, and the mail that was being passed out was getting wet though. Finally a lightning crack about a mile away (and which sounded 20 feet away) had everyone running for shelter. Everyone but yours truly of course.
See, I knew that just because the company commander yells “Damn! Get under cover everyone!” it is not the way you are supposed to be dismissed. Not a legal order at all, nope. So I stayed put. Heck, I was already pretty damp, just like the rest of my platoon. It was a refreshing sort of a warm summer rain, so I had no problems standing there at rest, face up to the heavens, grinning cheerfully as the days sweat was rinsed form my face.
First Sgt. MacMillian, AKA “Top” in informal work situations, “Mac” if it was off duty hours and he was in a good mood-rare to never of course- and “Milly” if you were grumping about him to a few fellow soldiers and he couldn’t hear you. Ask me about his reaction to being called Milly at another time, it is a story in itself…
Well of course, he was not amused.
“Baker! Get your sorry ass under cover!” He bellowed from the safety of the units’ front office.
“But the commander never said “Company dismissed” First Sergeant.” I replied with a broad grin.

Never correct a Company Commander or First Sergeant in public…

“Besides, it’s just a little drizzle anyway, Top”. This was said as the lightning struck again and the heavy rain turned into a downpour that made seeing him clearly, 20 feet away, a real challenge.

“Baker…” He growled.
“Okay Sergeant, I’m coming”, I replied “But it is gorgeous weather out here! I said cheerfully. “Why it makes me want to sing it’s so nice…I’m siiiiinging in the rain, just siiiinging in the rain, what a glorious feeling, I’m haaaaapy again”.

And so I slowly proceeded to tap dance my way back to the unit foyer where the rest of the crew was cheering and laughing. By way of three puddles, stomped in happily, and a downspout that soaked any remaining quarter inch of me that hadn’t been hit by the water thus far. And when I entered, I shook like a dog of course…all over Top, the C.O., and the appreciative crowd.

Now this wasn’t what really got me in trouble, see. Top just rolled his eyes, told me to stand in the doorway and try not to drip on anything valuable, because I was going to have to mop up any puddles I created as soon as the rain stopped. Oh, and if I shook one more time on him I would be waxing and buffing his office for the rest of the week. So I stopped shaking and just stood there, soaked and happy.

Happy till the phone rang that is.

See, the base commander, a man whose sense of humor is such that it makes ol’ Milly look like Robin Williams, had been driving by the company during my performance. Well, being driven, he had a chauffeur you see. And his super-snobby, sticks her nose in where it doesn’t belong thank you wife in there as well.
Wifey saw me dancing and got on the Generals case about soldiers being left in the rain in a dangerous thunderstorm where we could be hurt.
Ever hear the army saying that “Shit rolls downhill”? Well, hers’ was just made for rolling. It rolled into the General, who then rolled it to my Company Commander, who then rolled it to the First Sergeant, and you-know-who was at the bottom of the pile…
Isn’t it amazing how a thirty second snide little comment can turn into a three minute phone call, can turn into a 5 minute stern warning, can turn into a ten minute harangue about being an embarrassment to the unit.
I thought it was good morale support, myself…but Top couldn’t quite see it that way. And so I was ordered to report after duty hours for some extra training in military decorum and behavior.
Dry and no longer the happy camper I had been, I showed up at his office at 6 PM to start my extra duty, which would take place over the course of the weekend.

Painting Tops office.

He gave me a slip to bring to the supply depot and told me to do a good job…and then gave me the Look. You know the kind, like they way you mom would look at you when you were considering feeding the liver you should be eating to the dog, or like the way Mrs. Halley in third grade could stop you short just before you threw that spitball. One of those looks.

I don’t love painting, but I don’t hate it, and hoped I might be able to sweet talk a couple of friends into giving me a hand- until he forbade me from getting any assistance. Damn man could read my mind, I swear!

I asked him what color he wanted it painted; he said he didn’t care, whatever they had on hand. And to do a matching trim along the baseboards and windows. And no drips left on the floor. And wash out the brushes when I was finished. Like I didn’t know all that already.

So, off I went to the supply Sergeant, who wasn’t there, just a newbie private fresh out of basic and AIT (Advanced Intrinsic Training). I gave him the requisition slip and asked to see the choices for colors. He brought me to the paint section and I started reading colors…light brown, ecru, off white, pale blue, pink, brown, hot pink, tan, forest green…

Wait a minute…pink? HOT pink?

The grin that started across my face must have been blinding…and somewhat evil, the kid serving me actually looked frightened.
“That- that pink was a mistake on the requisition, we were supposed to get desert cammo colors” He stuttered. “We have been trying to get them to accept it back, but the paperwork is all screwed up and we haven’t been able to…you aren’t going to use that, are you?” He looked at me like I was insane. Which, upon reflection, I think I might have been, because I said “Yes” of course.

Heh heh heh

No office on that post had ever been painted with such loving care and attention to detail. The edges were sharp and crisp, there was nothing spilled or disturbed anywhere.
And boy, did the hot pink trim ever work nicely as a complimentary color, offsetting the paler pink of the walls. It took me all weekend- two coats, just as Mac had insisted. I took a lot of pride in my work for him. I carefully closed the door behind me, put a “Fresh Paint- Do Not Enter” sign on the door and went off to clean up and relax.

Then came Monday. I hate Mondays… Mondays are bad.

Now I didn’t actually see his face when he entered early that Monday morning, but no human voice should be able to create the volume of sound that First Sergeant MacMillian’s did on that particular day. I was just finishing up with my morning routine of scrambling into my uniform at the last possible second when my name was called out, loudly, through the company area. Normally this is done with the speaker system. Mac didn’t need a speaker system…

Boy, was he pissed.

Kind of like the captain in the movie Mr. Roberts when the palm tree was thrown overboard, only instead of having a conniption fit and falling over, he remained upright. And had a conniption fit right in my face. I could smell the Old Spice and toothpaste he had used, and was grateful he had not had an onion omelet for breakfast. If I had been a dentist I could have given him a complete exam during the time he was yelling, and checked his tonsils as well. Really an impressive display, if I had not been the brunt of it that is.

When he paused to take a breath I squeaked out “Did I leave a drip someplace? I thought I was really careful, First Sergeant.” Said in my best “Whatever is the problem?” tone of voice.

Meanwhile, word of the paint job had filtered quickly throughout the company, and laughter and snickers were starting to sound around us. Some soldiers were running to see, others running to get cameras…Mac was not amused. As I said, the man had no sense of humor.

And so again I was told to report for extra duty that night.

Six PM. Again I am standing in front of Tops desk. There are 4 cans of off-white paint in front of me to one side, a can of olive drab green on the other side, and two dry paint sticks being held up before my eyes. One is white, the other, hot pink.

“Do you know what this is, PFC Baker?” Top asked in a quiet, dangerous tone. I kind of prefer him yelling when he sounds like that.

“Hot pink number 3, First Sergeant”, I replied, adding quickly “You said the color didn’t matter, just whatever they had on hand…”

“They had a LOT MORE CHOICES than just PINK and HOT PINK, PFC Baker!” He bellowed. That was better. When he yells he is a lot less dangerous, because it means he isn’t thinking. You don’t want them to think, usually.

“Pink is such a soothing color, isn’t it? And it has been proven to help keep prisoners calm in holding areas, keeps blood pressure down…you should thank me for being so concerned about your health, Top. Er, First Sergeant MacMillian.” I could see by the rising color in his face that a measure of formality was a good idea.

“Soothing? You really think pink is a soothing color? Even when it is a bright, loud, completely inappropriate neon shade of hot pink? Well let me demonstrate to you just how non-soothing such a color can be. "This” he said, holding up the white paint stick before my eyes, “Is the color I expect this room to be in the morning, do you understand?”

I nodded, and quickly said “Yes, First Sergeant”.

“And to remind you of how I never want to see my office again, and of how disturbing such a color can be I want you to bend over this desk and look long and hard at the pink paint stick.”

As he said this, and I slowly bent over I got a real “Uh-oh” feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was not the usual “standing at attention while being yelled at” position I had come to know and love…this was a bit...scary.

“When was the last time you were spanked, Baker?” he asked as he came around the desk and stood behind me.

I started to stand to answer him, but he barked out “Maintain that position, soldier. Now tell me, when was the last time your mama whipped that disrespectful little butt of yours into shape?”

I heard the sound of that white painted stick slapping into his hand as he spoke, a grim counterpoint to his words.

“Ahh- um, around age five, First Sargent” I stuttered out nervously. “You- you aren’t actually thinking of…”

“Corporal Punishment in this instance? Why yes I am, and no cracks about how you are only a PFC and not a Corporal yet, Baker. I know you are well read enough to know what I mean.”

Damn the man, he just had to steal my best line too…

“Now since I want to ensure that I match the color of that paint stick in front of you, please prepare yourself for me to begin.” He said, sounding suspiciously cheerful.

I held still, like a deer caught in the headlights. He was gonna spank me!!! This was waaay beyond his usual reaction.

“That means drop them and hang on, Baker. I want your butt up like a full moon by the time I count to three, understand? One….Two…”

I had my pants down to my knees and the underwear close behind them before he got to three of course. I might be a joker, but I could tell when not to push a situation. Well, I could tell once in a great while, and this was definitely a time to move fast and protest later. I started begging as I did of course…I wasn’t about to go through this without a verbal fight at least.

Not that begging ever helps in these situations, but it is a part of the time honored tradition, and who am I to break with custom?

“Okay, Top, you scared me, now let me get started on your office, ok?”

He didn’t say a thing, just laid a hand on the small of my back to make certain I wouldn’t get up...which I was starting to do.

“Come on Mac, you don’t really want to do this do you? It...it isn’t military of you, (he got into a better position) it isn’t normal procedure, (he was winding up) I don’t wanna be spanked!” I wailed as the first slap had me trying to stand and cover my ass with both hands.

He stopped and said quietly “Put your hands on the desk. Hold on. I won’t hold you down. If you stand or cover yourself again I will remove my belt and use it for a far longer time, is that understood, PFC Baker? And you look at that paint stick and remember just why you're here like this. I will not stop again until your bottom and that stick is a match. Now try and take it like a soldier.”

Easy for him to say…

SMACK! CRACK! SPLAT! SLAP!

Over and over that damn paint stick rained down on my poor bottom, and I tried not to wiggle or to cry out, to “Take it like a soldier” as he said. All the resolve in the world is useless when someone is holding a BLOWTORCH to your ASS though! By the time he was done I was bawling loudly and he was offering me his box of Kleenex to blow my nose. I continued to sob as I pulled up my pants and straightened my uniform. He said I could take ten to get myself under control in the ladies room and wash my face, then I had to start painting.

My butt is on fire and he expects me to paint his flipping office? Not that I objected of course. No way was I going to let him start again.

When I came back in he was gone, the paint cans open and stirred and ready for me to start. With a deep sigh, I started. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep for a long time with my butt throbbing like that anyway.

Oh, and while I was in the ladies room I checked out my poor aching butt of course- we have a full length mirror so we can check our uniforms periodically. Damn me if he hadn’t just exactly matched the hot pink on that paint stick.

So I guess he does have a sort of sense of humor after all…in a sick twisted mean awful rotten sort of way. Rat Fink. Just wait till he or I get orders out of here. Soon as one of us does, that extra can of hot pink I stashed is going to do a little touch up job on his car maybe…

Story Notes
I really did start tap dancing while blasting out “Singing in the rain” at the top of my lungs during a rained out company formation once. And jumped in puddles and stood under the rainspout.
My husband, Zervon, really did paint the First Sergeants office pink with a hot pink border and window trim while in AIT. First Sergeants should never tell Privates to use whatever they have in supply…it took him a week before he could repaint it sky blue with dark blue trim.
The spanking part is just a figment of my cheerfully warped little imagination. I am certain there was more than one CO and sergeant in the past who wanted to do it though! And so I dedicate this story to our gallant fighting men and women, and those who command them…and have to put up with ones like me. )

[redandbare]

Well done I like a story with some humour sometimes. Can't wait for the next story.

[calliope_1]

I, like many other writers, LIVE for feedback- please say something!

[sadisticedge]

I loved the sense of humor and am sure your right that many wanted to do it. Excellent job.

[eiffel]

I like the story a lot, nicely written. The military service detail really is good, and I can tell its first hand . . . you identify people by their ranks, not characters, funny and true . . . just need their MOS to complete the impression

[calliope_1]

Lol, Signal Corps, 32D10 by the old designation system, Station Tech Controller. I forget what hubby's was back then, he worked satellites. He got to E-7,I barely made it as far as buck Sgt. Actually I am still kind of amazed I got THAT far...