I was a staff sergeant, the senior noncommissioned officer (NCO) in the S1 Administration Section of the 205th Military Intelligence Brigade in Frankfurt, Germany. I had a diverse group of five young soldiers under my charge. One black female, one Hispanic female, one Hispanic male, one white female, and one white male.
My soldiers were the best. They were always on time for formations, and all of them scored high marks on their PT tests. They reported for duty on time and were very proficient in their jobs. I prepared my eligible soldiers very well for the promotion boards. I took very good care of them, and they respected me for that.
All my soldiers were hard workers. Each of them mirrored my look with their spit-shined black boots and starched, pressed uniforms. I made it a point to set a professional example for them with my actions and behavior in the office. They knew me to be a fair but tough NCO. I had their respect, and they had mine. I was proud of all of them.
Unfortunately, the officers on our staff weighed us down. We had a young black female who was a ditzy second lieutenant. She bounced around the office like an overactive bobble-headed doll. She had no administrative training or clue about how to run G1 operations in a military environment. My soldiers and I had to train her on using and applying Army administrative regulations and guidelines for our mission. We tolerated her, but skillfully ignored her idiotic suggestions without upsetting her. Again following my lead, my soldiers worked around her to get their jobs done.
The officer in charge (OIC) was a black female captain. She came across as a country bumpkin from somewhere in the backwoods of Arkansas, Mississippi, or Alabama. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that she was inept and out of her league, too.
When I first met the OIC, she glared at me as if I would shrink or disappear. Right off the bat, I knew that she and I would not get along. I never knew or understood why she detested me so much. But she used her rank superiority like a weapon to hide her incompetence and weakness. She knew I was an intelligent, confident, and extremely competent NCO. She saw me as a threat to her.
I had an excellent relationship with my soldiers. She did not. That black captain often made it clear by her actions that she was jealous of me, and she resented the mutual respect between my soldiers and me. She tried to interfere in the decisions I made for my soldiers. I skillfully avoided disrespecting her, embarrassing her, or undermining her authority. My soldiers knew I was responsible for them, not her.
My soldiers and I respected the uniform the captain wore but not her. She was a poor leader. We knew it, she knew it, and she knew we knew it. But I handled myself as a professional by being courteous to her and by setting the example for my soldiers regardless of how I felt. Yet, I never missed an opportunity to show her rather than telling her to her face that she was incompetent. I never crossed that line into insubordination. Instead, I kept myself on the safe side of military courtesy toward her so I wouldn't get myself in trouble.
One day, after my soldiers and I finished physical training, we reported for duty. The country bumpkin captain came into our section and told us to meet her in the conference room to welcome the new NCO to our office. She said that the NCO, a Sergeant First Class (E-7), would be in our section for a short period of time. For some reason, I didn't like this news, but I could not complain or do anything about it. I tried to think positively about having another NCO in our section to pick up the slack, if only for a little while. So as we would say in the military, for any potentially shitty job thrown our way, "I had to suck it up and drive on."
After the captain introduced the newcomer to us, she returned to her office and left us with the NCO, a black female, an alien, an intruder, an uninvited guest. Her name was Sergeant First Class Richardson. She was in a wheelchair with a cast that ended just above the knee of her left leg. Heartless as it may sound, I felt no sympathy or concern for whatever accident put her in that wheelchair.
Initially, I was glad to see that another NCO of color would be working in our section. But my hopes for a potential camaraderie with this new NCO crumbled after meeting her. I sensed bad vibes and trouble on the horizon - lots of trouble.
I stood with my soldiers on the opposite side of the conference table from the new NCO. I noticed that they were not warming up to her at all. She was sitting in her wheelchair on the other side of the table, positioning herself in it as if it were her throne. With her nose almost touching the ceiling, she looked at us as if we were her lowly subjects. She had the corners of her mouth turned down, which signaled her distaste for our presence. What an ugly first impression she made!
Her skin was coal black. Even her lips were black! She was wearing a cheap black wig. She had gathered the longer strands of her wig into a ball with a scrunchie at the back of her head. She couldn't let her fake hair hang below her collar because that would violate uniform regulations. Honestly, that black wig did her no justice. It made her look like a wicked witch or a voodoo doll dripping with evil. Unfortunately, I had yet to experience her venomous demeanor and toxic behavior.
The captain assigned her to a desk across from mine. While in the office, she would prop her leg up on another chair that was in front of where she sat. Every time we reported for duty, my soldiers and I greeted her with, Good morning," but she never acknowledged us or dignified us with a response. That was my first outward sign that she would be hostile. But I was not afraid of her! I was very protective of my soldiers, and they knew I had their backs.
One time she asked me to summon my soldiers and meet at her desk. As we stood there, she condescendingly barked orders at us like we were idiots. As she spoke, she pointed one of her bony fingers at each of us to emphasize her information, treating us as if we were her field hands working for her on a damn plantation. How she spoke to us pissed me off, but I did not say anything or interrupt her. My soldiers knew me and knew I would protect them from this witch. Judging by her actions, she did not know how a G1 admin office functioned or how to run one. I knew that, and my soldiers did too.
Without hesitation, my soldiers followed my lead to "entertain" her while she continued to rattle off information to sound important. We ignored her because we all knew our jobs very well! She didn't.
After finishing her arrogant speech, she rolled her eyes over at me and spat out, "You got that, Metz?" Not Sergeant Metz, but Metz. Showing no military courtesy, she called me by my last name, which was the ultimate form of disrespect from one senior NCO to another.
Naturally, I was pissed off. Without missing a beat, I stood up straight, looked the witch directly in her eyes, and made sure my response dripped with sarcasm. I blasted her with, "Yes, Richardson!" Not Sergeant Richardson. Just Richardson, her last name. I paid her the same amount of respect she paid me in front of my soldiers, which was none!
My response shocked her. She leaned back in her chair and gave me one of those "how-dare-you" looks, which didn't affect me. I challenged her without any hesitation or any disrespect to her, and that infuriated her. I had made it clear to her that although she outranked me, I would never let her disrespect me, especially in front of my soldiers.
At that moment, she realized that she was dealing with a deadly force: ME! She knew that she should never, ever screw with me again. After that confrontation, she never crossed the line again with me for the entire time she was with us.
After her grandstanding flop, she waved her bony hand like the queen that she wasn't and finally dismissed us. My soldiers returned to their desks. A few of them smirked to keep from laughing. They knew she had challenged the wrong staff sergeant.
For her own protection, she stayed away from me and my soldiers the rest of the time she was in our section. And glory be! The time came for her to leave for her next assignment.
My soldiers and I decided to skip the Army tradition of a military sendoff. We never gave her a card, a unit patch, or a respectful farewell ceremony as was expected in Army units for personnel going to another assignment. Instead, we gave her exactly what she gave us: absolutely nothing!
My soldiers and I were glad that she had finally left for parts unknown! So for us, it was back to work dealing with the two incompetent female officers who were still in charge to continue their circus. My soldiers and I did our best to keep chaos to a minimum. Sigh!