Oh, Lord, protect me from the good intentions of idiots. Please, Jesus, God and St. Jack Daniels, I wish you were here right now.
But it's up to me. I've got a chief engineer who is... well, challenged, who went from zero to potato in 3.6 seconds, bypassing Full Retard in the process.
Honestly, my day thus far has been like a Laurel and Hardy routine.
I really want to call our dispatcher and say "This is another fine mess you got me into."
But that's kind of his job.
Anyhow, a first today. An engineer playing the 'you didn't give me the fuel you said you did' game, which is usually the opening for negotiations on discounting his fuel, is playing in the wrong country. The deal is the deal, and we do not negotiate. We calculate.
Anyhow, it takes a special kind of potato to claim that I held back more fuel than the ship actually ordered.
Seriously, this is what I get presented with.
"Sir, I am showing that we are short 200 metric tons of fuel oil"
Me: "Chief, you ordered 170 metric tons. I gave you 170 metric tons."
"Yis Yis, We are showing 200 tons less."
Me: "Chief, you received 170 tons, yes?"
"Yis yis. One Seven Zero. But we are showing 200 tons short."
HMMM: Manhattan DA raids Newsweek headquarters….
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