Naturally there's a price to pay for any promotion. In my case, the price comes in lost opportunity to sleep. Concurrent with my new responsibilities is a period of unprecedented business. Since I took over the show on Wednesday, and was given a green hand to train as my mate, as opposed to having a mate AND a green hand as a 3rd warm body of a tankerman, I have only my new shipmate, who is, thank God, damn good at what he does. In the meanwhile, however, we're working 18-hour days, which is not so much fun, and there are jobs lining up like airplanes on a runway. For the past three days, promises of two days out of service to effect repairs have been hung like a carrot on a string. On Wednesday, it was Friday and Saturday for repairs and rest. On Thursday, it was Sunday and Monday. Yesterday, it was Sunday night to Tuesday morning. Today it's Monday morning to Tuesday afternoon. The window is always 48 hours away, but the duration is gradually being eroded.
This occurs for several reasons: one, we're unique in this region, in that we're equipped to do several sorts of jobs, and two, I'm new in the job, and when a more senior captain bitches to dispatch that their brand-new unit's TV is on the fritz, they go in for service. My aged unit doesn't inspire so much frenzy.
Got to go; time to get to the next job.
I Never Knew She Could Sing So Well
58 minutes ago