019 - Qual Ownership

Senior-In-Rate.  The three words that mean that you're no longer a useless NUB.  The words that mean that you're capable of standing every watch in your rate, that you're not a burden on your division anymore.  The ones that mean you're actually a Real Nuke.

Nah, that's bullshit.  You're still going to be expected to work on EWS (or CMO or whatever they call it in the surface fleet), at least if you're a first class.  But at least, when you're Senior-In-Rate, you know that someone in the chain of command thinks you're good enough, or the watchbill's needs are desperate enough, to let you be the one in the hot seat.

But getting there?  Well, getting there is an adventure.  You've got to have your basic engineering qualifications, and you've got to make it through your LPO, your DIVO, and finally...  You have to face the ENG.  The person who takes shots of Maalox like a MM slamming rounds of Nuke Waste at the Horse and Cow.  The one who's going through bottles of Tums faster than you go through a fresh can of dip.

Possibly the only person on the boat more stressed than you are, frankly, because they've got to deal with a department full of nukes (and A-gangers), while getting yelled at by the CO and herding a pack of JOs who have no idea what they're doing.  ET's are exempt from this; they get to face the CO in person.  But that's what they get for being able to sit in a box on a comfy chair all day.

And you?  You're wanting an hour or two of the ENG's time, so you can get that Senior-In-Rate interview with them.  Time that they'd rather be spending asleep, or at least trying to work through the endless reams of paperwork that are the true reason for the NNPP's existence.  And you?  You just want to add to that paperwork, with that oral interview form and the qual card and that desperate need for the ENG's signature.

So you have to hunt the ENG, when you're off-watch.  When you'd rather be in the rack, sleeping, because it took twice as long to get the maintenance done because the CHOP wouldn't sign off on the RPPO's parts chit until after they got done with whatever the CHOP does.

And then you feel someone kick your foot, and you wake up.  And stare blearily up at the CO, who's looking down at you like you're something they don't want to acknowledge exists.  One of the troglodytes from back aft, whose entire purpose in life is to make water, keep the lights on, and push the boat through the water.  And then they ask just what you're doing...

When you explain yourself?  Somehow, in their fey-like whimsy, they feel moved to grant you what you're seeking.  Why?  Maybe they want to see if they can get the ENG to stroke out.  Maybe they're genuinely moved by the fact you're sleeping in front of the ENG's stateroom door.  But...  They help you.  "You'll get that interview this week."  The one that'll let you off the hook.  Keep you from being DINQ.  The one that'll let you rest.  At least for a little while.

...first wake-up.  You've got watch in thirty minutes.

-ELT2/SS

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Thank you Andrew for both the comic idea and the guest writeup!