The field of DoD contracting is definitely a subculture all to itself. Generally, leadership is comprised of white, retired military officers. Some of them have made what I've heard referred to as 'the turn', as in they've made the transition from the military mind set to the corporate world. In the military, they accomplished the mission at all costs. As newly minted businessmen, they now attempt to provide a product or service for a fair profit, and now they need to mind the cost. Some of them have most definitely not made the turn and believe they are still in the military. With the drawdown in Afghanistan progressing at a fast and furious pace and contracting for the DoD contracting, they won't survive in the business world. At the other end of the employment spectrum, depending on the nature of the contract or services that are provided to the government, are typically ex-enlisted military, some retired, some not. Many of them do not have transferable skills outside of the DoD contracting world and will struggle mightily once the overseas gravy train comes off the tracks. That train is just about to be derailed, my friends. Many of the people you meet and interact with in this unique world, regrettably, are not the most interesting or educated. For educational standards, I submit this excerpt from a resume. I sure did get a belly laugh out of this though - makes me think of going back to school myself. I believe I could get my hands around the curriculum.
Every once and a while though, you run into someone who does not fit the profile of a DoD contractor. Bradley is one of these individuals and one who most definitely broke whatever mold he was forged from. Let's start off with this: he owns a bulldozer in Nigeria. That kind of guy. I'll get back to Nigeria in just a bit. Bradley is in his mid 40's, prematurely gray, reasonably fit and not at all bad looking. He's educated, skilled, well read, widely travelled and can speak intelligently on a variety of topics. My kind of people, with the exception of his peculiarities. Peculiarities you ask? Well, Bradley loves women and drugs. Unabashedly. The drugs are all prescription drugs and have been vetted through the physician here. But the women and the stories of the women are something else. Bradley is in the upper echelons of management and at a business dinner in Dubai, he asked if he could bring a date. He received the affirmative and then showed up with not one but two 'dates', who were of the for hire date variety. That kind of move takes some chutzpah. He went to see a doctor in Dubai, the doctor wasn't there, so he stopped by the pharmacy (because he hates to go to a hospital and come away empty handed) said he had a girl back in the hotel and asked if they could give him some Cialis. And they gave it to him. He maintains an apartment in Thailand, and currently has three women living there. He has a girlfriend in London, and a Cambodian girl he's been writing for whom he's just procured a visa to come visit him in Dubai when he's on his next R&R. She's never been out of Cambodia. He has pictures in his office of 4 very attractive women, one of whom is the girlfriend in London. I don't know about the other three women in the pictures, but I'm fairly certain that none of them belong to the three women who currently live in his apartment. Bradley loves women, and doesn't mind admitting that he pays for their companionship and sexual favors. That kind of guy. I don’t get it at all. But I will say this, I know plenty of guys overseas who have wives and girlfriends in the U.S. and who go whoring in Dubai, Thailand or the Philippines. At least Bradely is a confirmed bachelor and brazenly open about his exploits.
His bulldozer in Nigeria has been a bust so far, the guy who he has running it for him has managed to wheedle more money out of him for repairs than he has been able to send him when the bulldozer is rented out. But hey, it's a bulldozer scheme in Nigeria, what the hell did he expect? He told me a story the other day about his time in Nigeria, when he was working for an oil company - he said he knocked up a Nigerian prostitute. I did not ask if he was having unprotected sex with the Nigerian prostitutes, I let his story roll on. I certainly did wonder how anyone who has any type of education could get someone in this day and age - particularly a Nigerian prostitute - pregnant. The man has a M.A. in Chemistry. There must have been some Biology in his educational background somewhere. But I digress. He said the girl confronted him, told him she was pregnant. Bradley offered her a million Naira - the equivalent of $17,000, to either take to get an abortion or to use to raise the child. She agreed to take the money, and he paid out the money in installments. While he may have been foolish enough to get a Nigerian prostitute pregnant, he was not so fiscally foolish as to give a Nigerian prostitute a cool million all in one fell swoop. He took care of fiscal foolishness when he bought the bulldozer. In Nigeria.
When they met to exchange the final installment, she showed up with a group of her prostitute friends. She demanded another million. Bradley recoiled in shock and told her that many men wouldn't have even offered her the first million and there is no second million coming - that was the agreement and that was it. No more money. She then began to grab his arm and hit him and her friends started shouting at him and joined in the pushing and pulling. His driver recognized the situation was about to turn ugly and shoved him into the car and attempted to drive away, but the car was surrounded by angry Nigerian prostitutes. They rocked the car back and forth and pounded on the windows. The driver was able to eventually inch out and make it back to the safety of the oil compound. There Bradley sat, safely ensconced in his office when he heard the chants, muffled at first, "Brad-ley, Brad-ley, Brad-ley." Yes, the group of Nigerian prostitutes had gathered outside his office and were chanting his name - they wanted Bradley and the second million or his blood. His boss came in and asked what the hell was going on. Bradley looked out the window at the growing mob and looked at his boss and said, "Not sure, seems like a case of mistaken identity." The din continued to get louder, "Brad-ley, Brad-ley, Brad-ley Brad-ley. We want Brad-ley, we want Brad-ley, we want Brad-ley!" The security detail was called in and the girls were escorted out of the compound. 'Cause that's how they roll in Nigeria.
As I said before, most of the folks you meet in Afghanistan are predictable and really not that interesting. Hell, even the Taliban and their rocket attacks follow a formula - Springtime on a windless night, 0100, you can bet on it. There's not a lot of variation there. Big Voice comes on and you hear, "IDF impact, IDF impact, shelter in place, don IBA." I'm certain the Taliban mutter to themselves right after they shoot the rocket, "Allahu Akbar." Why? Because they have no imagination, that's why. The people, the work, the bicycle ride around the base every day, the food and yes, even the attacks - predictable.
But there is a small group of folks here on Bagram who wait for Bradley to take his next R&R so we can be entertained by his ribald tales upon his return. Although you could fairly write the script for his stories yourself, his predictability breaks up our monotony.
No comments:
Post a Comment