I received the phone call yesterday afternoon. Well, actually, I was home sick, which my friend Robert rightfully points out means that I am both at sick and at home, rather than either sick of my home or missing it. In any case, I also didn’t quite receive the phone call, but a message. I had to dial back to the States on my own dime. In any case, I learned that I was being elevated from the Senior pool into a Senior position, the equivalent in the civilian service to a Brigadier General.

But, there are so many things to say about that one sentence, I’m not quite sure where to start. And that is all aside from the rather entertaining notion of me as a General. First, there is the whole pool thing, which I think I could go on forever about, and I may have done so about six weeks ago when I learned I had made the leap into the Pool. The pool is a year old notion in which those who are qualified for Senior status are given the stamp that, given the right circumstances, they are in fact qualified for a Senior position. In itself, it gives you nothing more—no pay raise, no parking spot, no entitlements. My friends who made the pool last year found this out as they sat for over a year getting wrinkled in the water, awaiting their call to Senior-dom. To move from the pool to the Senior world, you have to take a Senior position. There were no such positions available, and so they sat. There are so many images of things waiting in pools for a lengthy period of time, hoping to emerge all the better, I can’t even begin to list them. But, essentially, the pool process is like being pre-qualified for a house in Columbia, Md. You’ve got the right to buy, now you just have to find a house. So, I was nominated to the Senior pool some time ago along with a zillion others, or at least fifty, with few hopes of positions. Besides, I already have a position, and didn’t plan to give up this hardship. Often, though, you don’t get to choose your own house, they pick one for you. If you’re lucky, as I seem to be, you already live there.
Point two: For years, you were promoted. From one grade to another, you are promoted. That is, until you hit the Senior level. Then you are elevated. Another friend, who is already a Senior, points out that perhaps it should be levitated. I’m not quite sure what the difference between elevation and promotion is. Except when you ask google to define elevation, you get words like aggrandizement.
The big thing at home about the Senior positions are the parking spots. Parking is so bad, people will sit in a pool for a year to get a space. There, the Seniors get numbered spots that are reserved. When I arrived here, not yet elevated, I was given a numbered spot. Parking is really bad there. Sometimes, you might have to walk 10-15 minutes from your car to the building, and there is even a shuttle bus that goes to satellite parking. So, a numbered space is a big deal. Parking is worse here. Much worse. You see, it’s a base. Off base is, uh, woods and freeways; no parking. So, I have a numbered spot, but 70% of the time, someone is parked there when we arrive. Don’t think that will change. Here, you can call the Military Police and tell them someone is in your space. They are supposed to ticket, but I haven’t seen a ticket yet. But, I guess a numbered space is better than no space; at least you have a 30% chance of decent parking. I did, however, verify today that I may now park in spots marked “General Officer”, like the one right next to the front door of the commissary. Since, like the rest of the base, the commissary has little parking, that’s a perk.