They're not our moms or our dads, but they are just as tired of our tomfoolery. Commanders put up with our clowning while taking the brunt of responsibility from Leadership for the squadron and let's remember: all sh*t rolls downhill. Thanks to the Commander, probably a little less rolled down to us. This holiday season, let's show our Commanders our appreciation for driving them to the brink of insanity on a weekly, if not hourly, basis.
Ibuprofen: for the headaches.
Antacid: for the heartburn.
Spoofer Email Address: to deflect orders from higher ups to requisition volunteers for Wing-wide mandatory fun. Can't reply to an email you never get.
GPS Tile: to track that one guy in your squadron who can’t make it back in time before curfew. Which was created because of him in the first place after a night in Songan... or Iwakuni...or Sigonella...or Phuket...or Dubai...or Yuma... or....
Backpack leash: for TDYs. You know who you are.
A Giant A** Umbrella: We all have our commanders to thank for the protection they provide from the ongoing storm of sh*t that rains down from the Good Idea Fairies known as Leadership.
A Giant A** Butterfly Net: Alternatively, to keep the hare-brained shenanigan butterflies from fluttering around the squadron up to Leadership.
Flowers: for their spouses. No doubt the hours they've spent worrying about us have taken their attention away from their family. Their real kids probably did not drink a bottle of Fireball and then get handcuffed on the curb for peeing in the bushes near a Saddle Ranch, and yet the Commander has to answer that call at 2am. We're sorry. And it wasn't our fault. It was only a security guard anyway, not the real police.
A Laser Pointer - because herding cats is hard and they deserve to have their fun.