Seriously?!

Anyone who has had a conversation with my about my job will probably tell you that I am *slightly* disgruntled. Most of the time, I chalk this up to the old adage "A bitching sailor is a happy sailor."  For the most part, the military has taken very good care of me over the past 6 and a half years.  Yeah, I complain about my job, or the people I work for, or the Navy in general.  But mostly, MOSTLY I lead a pretty good life.  I have been given opportunities and benefits by the military that I otherwise would not have been given.

Then, there are days when I want to stand in the middle of the room and scream at the top of my lungs "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?" and throw a temper tantrum.

Today is one of those days.

You see, about 6 months ago, I did something that caused Big Navy a great inconvenience.  I went and got myself knocked up.  Thus begins my saga.

I left my ship back in December, about 2 working days after medical confirmed my pregnancy.  Initially, I went to a place called TPU--Transient Personnel Unit--while Big Navy decided where they were ultimately going to send me.  After 2 weeks, I was issued "orders,"  which told me when and where I was to report for duty for the remainder of my pregnancy, and for 12 months following my delivery.  I left TPU, and reported to my new command.  When I got there, the people in charge of the paperwork informed me that my orders were written incorrectly.  Basically, there is a 3-digit code attached to my orders.  My code was supposed to be 100, they put 105.   Seems pretty innocuous, right?  RIGHT.

That 3-digit code might as well have been 666 for all the trouble it has cause me over the past 3 months.

I was told I had to call Millington--the place where the "orders gods" live--and tell Big Navy that my orders were wrong.  A little side note about Navy "customer service:" If there is a problem with something (paperwork, a part is the wrong size, some officer forgot to print his name after his signature on that paperwork, whatever), and that something has your name or social attached to it in any way, it is YOUR fault--YOU, the service member.  So of course, the fact that some middle-aged man in Millington typed a "5" instead of a fucking "0" on my orders is MY fault.  So I call Millington.  I did mention this was in December, right?  So when do you think I actually got a hold of a person in Millington?  Yes, January 3rd.  It took A MONTH to reissue the orders once I finally talked to person.  It only took 10 business days for them to issue the damn orders to begin with, but it took a month to fix them.  This creates a major paperwork problem for the Local Navy.  Without the right orders, Local Navy can't "gain" me, which means that they can't update what command I am attached to, they can't alter my pay, they can't do anything with me.  I'm basically in Limbo...or maybe Purgatory?  I don't know, I'm not Catholic.  I guess it's more like the "Beyond" section of Family Guy's Bed Bath & Beyond (Google it).  No one can do anything with me until my paperwork is fixed.

I know I'm long-winded today, but I'm seriously pissed.

So...new orders, PSD can gain me, everything is good.  Until I get my pay stub for February--it says my check is $500 less than it should be.  Turns out, Local Navy wants me to prove I don't live in the barracks before they stop taking the $286/month meal deduction out of my check.  I find this out after they have taken 2 months worth of this meal deduction. (You know, since I was in Purgatory for the last month and they couldn't update my pay.)  This involves me routing paperwork, getting approval from my command and from the galley, and going back to PSD so they will STOP TAKING MY DAMN MONEY!!  Of course, I can't do all of this in 1 day.  It took about a week, and 2 extra trips to the base ON MY DAYS OFF.  The last trip I made was this morning.

Today had been such a good day.  I was feeling so productive.  I had gotten everything straightened out with my pay.

Then I looked at my new pay stub.

They took another $400 from me.  Don't know why.  They can't tell me why over the phone.

I have to go back over there...18 miles away...while gas is $3.35 a gallon...IN UNIFORM...on my fucking day off.  FML.

So short version:
I'm having a baby--YAY!
Big Navy sent me off the ship--YAY! and messed up my paperwork--BOO!
Messed up paperwork cost me $566.00 last month--BOO!
Big Navy charging me $400 this pay check for being pregnant...or for some other unknown reason I can't find out without driving 36 miles round trip on my day off--BOO!
Don't join the military.  Big Navy will fuck you.
FML.