Institutionally, the Corps suffers from a plague of climate control devices that are incapable of keeping room temperatures at anything resembling human habitation.
My office, for instance, is blazing hot. Merely uncomfortably warm would be one thing, but throughout the day the odd bit of paperwork randomly bursts into flames. This is annoying and leaves ashes all over my desk. Pushing buttons on the thermostat is an exercise in futility. Although the LED screen claims it is “cooling,” displaying a small picture of a snowflake, there seems to be a small lava flow pouring out of the vent. Nearby homes have been evacuated.
I would ask my facilities manager to adjust the settings but last time I did that he lost his eyebrows in an unfortunate thermobaric incident. This was followed by his hairline receding a full inch after I volcanically chastised him for incompetence. It’s probably not his fault really. Purchasing equipment from the lowest bidder has consequences after all.
In Camp Lejeune I recall we used to keep our barracks rooms open to the elements all year long. During the winter the barracks was equatorially hot. In order to prevent spontaneous combustion in our sleep we kept the doors open to let the cold air in. During the summer months the vents burst forth with an arctic wind that left a layer frost on everything. Thus we kept our barracks doors open to keep the forces of nature in balance.
Complaining to the barracks NCO or company gunny was an exercise in futility. Asking for the heat to be turned down resulted in Marines becoming mummified in the inevitable glacial ice flow. Any inquiries about perhaps turning it up some ended with molten glass pouring right out of our window frames.
Everyone in authority blamed us to tampering with the thermostats and rendering them inoperable. I maintained that somewhere between the two default settings of “hypothermic” and “magma” there had to be one approaching “habitable.” I was flogged for heresy of course.
As I’ve mentioned before, the only real option is to embrace the madness. They other day this madness took the form of me storming into the facilities manager’s officer and threatening to smash everything withing sight and hearing with a tomahawk unless someone turned off the flame thrower in my office.
I’m actually a little disappointed this method seems to have worked.