You walk into the cubicles and your Airmen are having a critical discussion on the evolution of the Green Power Ranger.

Your Airmen are listening to bands you’ve never ever ever heard of…ever.

You set up a shared folder in the organizational folders to dump all the different form letters that folks in the squadron need, and a Chief thinks you’re brilliant.

A Lt Col thinks it’s hilarious that someone “your age” would own a RAZR.

You realize that the training that the Air Force has been promising for your career field for the past ten years, has been stashed in some CBT Library that rarely works and that you’re never going to get classroom time for it. The upside? No TDY to Keesler.

You inspect dorm rooms and one of the younger senior NCOs calls you an asshole for writing “Clean me!” in the dust on one of his troops’ T.V. set. My thinking was…I didn’t count it as strike three and fail the little pig.