The crusty Navy Master Chief noticed a new seaman and barked at him, “Get over here! What’s your name sailor?”
“John,” the new seaman replied.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of bleeding-heart pansy crap they’re teaching sailors in boot camp these days, but I don’t call anyone by his first name,” the chief scowled. “It breeds familiarity, and that leads to a breakdown in authority. I refer to my sailors by their last names only; Smith, Jones, Baker, whatever. And you are to refer to me as ‘Chief.’ Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Aye, Chief!”
“Now that we’ve got that straight, what’s your last name?”
The seaman sighed. “Darling, my name is John Darling, Chief.”
“Okay, John, here’s what I want you to do…”
“John,” the new seaman replied.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of bleeding-heart pansy crap they’re teaching sailors in boot camp these days, but I don’t call anyone by his first name,” the chief scowled. “It breeds familiarity, and that leads to a breakdown in authority. I refer to my sailors by their last names only; Smith, Jones, Baker, whatever. And you are to refer to me as ‘Chief.’ Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Aye, Chief!”
“Now that we’ve got that straight, what’s your last name?”
The seaman sighed. “Darling, my name is John Darling, Chief.”
“Okay, John, here’s what I want you to do…”
