In the late 90’s I lived in a barracks on Camp Lejeune. For some reason the facilities ninjas refused to allow room temperatures to ever reach levels one would associate with the word comfortable. In the winter, if Marines complained it was cold in the barracks, indignant facilities trolls would crank up the heat all the way to volcanic, refusing to maintain temperatures more optimal for human life. Likewise, in the summer, our barracks rooms resembled so many meat lockers as the conditions inside were best described as arctic.
I recall the Company 1stSgt and Company Gunny chewing us out because we left the doors open to our rooms all the time. Of course we did! In the winter it was so hot inside we left to door open for some relief. In the summer, the rate of hypothermia shot through the roof so we left our doors open to let a little heat in. Our doors were open nearly year round! There’s nothing quite as bracing as slogging back to the barracks from your appointed place of duty in the North Carolina humidity only to enter room using a snow shovel. The sudden cold snap had been known to send Marines into cardiac arrest.
This morning at Cleveland-Hopkins airport it was 38 degrees. In keeping with Marine Corps tradition the air conditioning is on full blast in my building. At this stage of my career I have given up complaining and have embraced the madness. I now take perverse joy in listening to Marines snivel in discomfort.
Our battalion Gunner spent the morning weeping about the plunging temperature. His tears crystallized into ice before shattering on the floor. Attempting to console him, I said I would handle the issue immediately.
“But how are you going to do that SgtMaj?” Snot bubbles blossomed from his nostrils.
“I’m the SgtMaj sir! I fix problems!” Coffee mug in hand, I immediately stormed into the S-4 office. In the end the Gunner was nonplussed by my solution.
Solve problems, it’s what I do.