I had a job in the army once where everyone in the office was expected to use passive voice.
(As you can see, Gary, I just did, too, above.)
Trouble is, this was the U.S. Army Vietnam war era. And every army office had lots to hide, at all bases around the world. I happened to be at a division HQ in southern Germany (its artillery units on…
I had a job in the army once where everyone in the office was expected to use passive voice.
(As you can see, Gary, I just did, too, above.)
Trouble is, this was the U.S. Army Vietnam war era. And every army office had lots to hide, at all bases around the world. I happened to be at a division HQ in southern Germany (its artillery units on the West German / Czech border). All funds were diverted to Nam (yes, another passive by me). Roofs were leaking so G.I.'s would wake up mornings with snow on their cots. Plumbing broke. Electrical lines fizzed out. Certain supplies never got replenished. Morale tanked as guys with more than six months active duty remaining after Nam tours were sent to kill time in these European units.
I newly was in the office of congressional correspondence. The three guys who'd long been there were all ETS'ing out of the army in short time -- but they'd never had to go to Nam, and had good duty all during their service.
Only hitch, all the problems about which Congress people inquired were real problems. We'd send out for background from the actual locations and could see that the problems were not being addressed (yes, another passive). But it was army policy to cover up all problems, to put a positive spin on everything. So letters went back to the Congress people saying such-and-such had been investigated, such-and-such was found, and so-and-so was being "taken care of" (the army also loved euphemism).
Lies. All lies.
I refused to write boilerplate. So my C.O. sent me to join some idiot NATO field exercises in Denmark. I knew it was just to get rid of me. But I enjoyed Copenhagen. And when I returned, the other three guys had all shipped out, back to the U.S., all replaced by private E-1s. And the office was empty -- the new guys in a giant other office, now with a one-star general signing all the cover-up letters they'd write. And I had no job.
I'd done nothing wrong in any way anyone ever wanted to discuss. So I went to the post library. Walked around the beautiful Swabisch villages. Drew my pay. Ate at the mess hall.
I had a job in the army once where everyone in the office was expected to use passive voice.
(As you can see, Gary, I just did, too, above.)
Trouble is, this was the U.S. Army Vietnam war era. And every army office had lots to hide, at all bases around the world. I happened to be at a division HQ in southern Germany (its artillery units on the West German / Czech border). All funds were diverted to Nam (yes, another passive by me). Roofs were leaking so G.I.'s would wake up mornings with snow on their cots. Plumbing broke. Electrical lines fizzed out. Certain supplies never got replenished. Morale tanked as guys with more than six months active duty remaining after Nam tours were sent to kill time in these European units.
I newly was in the office of congressional correspondence. The three guys who'd long been there were all ETS'ing out of the army in short time -- but they'd never had to go to Nam, and had good duty all during their service.
Only hitch, all the problems about which Congress people inquired were real problems. We'd send out for background from the actual locations and could see that the problems were not being addressed (yes, another passive). But it was army policy to cover up all problems, to put a positive spin on everything. So letters went back to the Congress people saying such-and-such had been investigated, such-and-such was found, and so-and-so was being "taken care of" (the army also loved euphemism).
Lies. All lies.
I refused to write boilerplate. So my C.O. sent me to join some idiot NATO field exercises in Denmark. I knew it was just to get rid of me. But I enjoyed Copenhagen. And when I returned, the other three guys had all shipped out, back to the U.S., all replaced by private E-1s. And the office was empty -- the new guys in a giant other office, now with a one-star general signing all the cover-up letters they'd write. And I had no job.
I'd done nothing wrong in any way anyone ever wanted to discuss. So I went to the post library. Walked around the beautiful Swabisch villages. Drew my pay. Ate at the mess hall.
Passive voice, Gary.
So you're just the man to ask - is it true about the saltpeter in the mashed potatos?
I got KP duty sometimes, then Gary. Peeled hundreds of potatoes.
By hand.
If anyone had come along to add any additives, it was after I'd stolen a pie or two and returned to barracks.