So, my daily routine got a bit of a shake-up today. Loads of paperwork I had to take care of. Mostly requisition orders.
For those of you not in the know(that is to say, everyone reading this besides the guys at work), the way the P.T.C. hierarchy and command structure works is that we have multiple Divisions, each with an assigned budget, job, and three departments: Science, Military, and Executive.
Executive Departments serve as the liaison between the Science and Military Departments, fill out requisition orders for the Science and Military Departments, and the highest-ranking Executives, of which I am one, serve as the liaison between the Division and Central Command. Translation: Paperwork and lots of it.
The Military Department is, of course, made up of soldiers like our dear friend Nightcrawler, with whom you are all too familiar. Their job is to actually fight and kill paranormal entities, or if possible, capture and contain them. Every Military Department is different in the precise organization and command structure, based on how many Military Department personnel Central Command has assigned to it.
A Division's Science Department figures out how the Military Department's supposed to kill a certain type of creature we've come across. Science personnel assigned to this job tend to not be ordinary beaker-slingers working with some outdated chemistry sets. These guys are the unsung heroes of the scientific community. (They're mostly unsung because if they try to speak about their discoveries, we quietly make them disappear.)
Now, one thing you need to know.
Everybody in the P.T.C. is in it for the money.
Generous salary, holiday bonuses, dental plan - We get the entire kit-n-kaboodle. Sure, it's a public service, and we usually feel good about this(and if we talk about it, we usually get killed, so that's a deterrent to avoid having people quit), but first and foremost, it's a job. Executives? They did the same thing back in their old jobs. Military? They're basically mercenaries being paid to shoot creatures that break your mind when you glance at them. Scientists? Let's just say Albert Einstein wouldn't have turned down the number of zeroes on his pay stub if he got paid to dissect a living brain that belonged to something that was still trying to kill him.
Anyways, back to my daily routine.
Normally, it goes like this.
4:00 AM: Get up.
4:06 AM: Get in shower, lose grip on soap five times, say 'fuck it', apply shampoo, clean hair of shampoo, get dressed, apply deoderant.
5:00 AM: Get coffee.
5:06 AM: Drink coffee black, after waiting for it to cool off enough that I don't burn my mouth.
5:07 AM: Burn mouth anyways, wait for coffee to cool off some more. Finish coffee before I leave for work.
5:30 AM: Leave for work.
5:50 AM: Walk in front door, check over schedule for the day.
5:51-6:11 AM: Totally dismiss schedule, screw around playing Tetris on desk computer for about twenty minutes before smoking hot secretary brings me paperwork to inspect and sign from Military and Science Departments - usually requisition papers, after-action reports from combat personnel, and scientific analysis reports from the Science Department about their latest discovery regarding our opposition and their weaknesses.
6:12-6:50 AM: Inspect paperwork closely.
6:51-7:20 AM: Sign requisition orders I approve, stamp the ones I don't, and then forward scientific analysis and military after-action reports to Central Command for review.
7:21 AM: GET FUCKING KIDNAPPED BY NIGHTCRAWLER'S TEAM
YES I'M STILL FUCKING ANGRY
7:22-9:40 AM: Under normal circumstances, await complaints about requisition orders being denied, and then start acting like the usual 'asshole boss' who won't approve Sundae Sundays at the office for numerous reasons, not the least of them being the budget is already tied up defending the human race rather than giving everyone a free ice cream sundae for bothering to come into work today. Usually takes a while for it to sink in. When it does, tell whiners to get the hell out of my office.
9:41-10:00 AM: Resume playing tetris until it is time for daily visit to Science Department.
10:01 AM-12:00 PM: Go see what the Science Department is doing with the budget allocated to them, and then either approve of their work wholeheartedly, or bitch them out for wasting it on something that doesn't make any sense for the soldiers in the Military Department to use.
12:01-1:00 PM: Visit barracks, talk to commanding officer if he is present, ensure that everything's up to code, get the hell out before everyone starts using me for target practice. A barracks full of soldiers disapproving of suits doesn't really allow for much in the way of 'not dying.' Trust me, if you're an executive here, the soldiers are out to get you. It's happened before.
1:01-2:00 PM: Go back to desk, find out that secretary's left another load of papers for me to sign, approve, or forward to Central Command. Resume work.
2:01-5:00 PM: Finish annoying and tedious workload, spend rest of the day goofing off. Occasionally make out with and/or nail hot secretary in nearby broom closet.
5:01-5:21 PM: Get up, inspect backseat of car for any paranormal creatures science team has slipped into car as a joke, go home.
5:22-10:00 PM: Enjoy evening and go to bed.
Ungodly Hour of the Early Morning: Get awoken by dog next door barking at something. Yell out window at neighbor to keep his dog under control, or I will have a team of highly-trained commandos shoot it, him, his wife, and his children, and then enjoy the newly-found peace and quiet by going back to bed.
That bit at 2:01-5:00 PM? Filled with more paperwork than I'm used to. With the Division getting back underway with new personnel, everyone needs to get acclimated to the new environment. Soldiers need to re-learn what to shoot and what not to shoot, science teams need to look over previously-collected data from dead or transferred scientists, and more requisition orders are filled out early on than anytime after the first few hectic weeks.
Still, even for a hellish, paperwork-filled day, this was nuts.
Looking forward to tomorrow.