stolen from Al Easley

Son, we live on a ship that needs power, and that power needs to be generated by people in The Pit.

Who’s gonna do it, you OS1? You RM3?

I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom.

You weep for OPS and Deck, and you curse the Engineering Department.

You have that luxury.

You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that the boo-boo you got during a Main Space fire drill, while tragic, probably saves lives.

And our existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you saves lives.

You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about in air-conditioned radio rooms, you WANT me in that pit; you NEED me in that pit!

We use words like SSTG, DFT, Shaft Alley, and FUCK YOU.

We use these words as the backbone of a life spent supporting the entire ship; you use them as a punch line!

I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a person who freely takes Hollywood showers with the very water I provide, AND THEN QUESTIONS THE MANNER IN WHICH I PROVIDE IT!

I would rather you just say thank you and go on your way; otherwise, I suggest you find some coveralls and scrub the bilge.

Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to!