would jocko willink hire a zen codger babe?

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I never miss his podcast. Every Wednesday. But I started it late last night and fell asleep to the manly tones... because, of course, I can listen again after I wake up.

So I was being hired by Echelon Front. We were in a combination beach hut, hunting lodge, girlhood home, and I was motoring around in there in a very motivational way, taking instruction from one of his team leaders and interjecting with very sage and scintillating proclamations.

Nearly giddy, only much smoother.

At length, I could hear Jocko talking in the other room and, well, the jig was up. I soon was awake and very sweaty and all old lady arms and legs to get the comforter off me. Still only half on this plane, going in and out, when I heard a tapping at the screen door on the other side of the crumbling mud room from my wide open front door.

Five ayem. Dark. Tapping. Bedside light. Huge linen top over my nakedness.

I strode to the door and slammed it and locked it.

It was probably Ted, the snaggle-toothed, food obsessed, night owl, who thinks taking a paternal tone about my need to frequent a bakery is the way to fatten me up or impress me or something, thinking that hearing Jocko talking meant I was awake here in the dark, but I didn't want to find out. If it was anything important, whoever it was would have made emergency noises.

I'm serious about Jocko hiring me though. I'd feel safer.

pipe up any time....