5A. N.: I could not get this little problem out of my head, and so I'll post the future ahead of time. Here you go… the reason why Paul Davis is always in reach to Jack after he became Director to the Department of Homeworld Security.
A.N. 2: In my Assiah series, Jack prefers tea, but has trouble with brewing a decent cup, hence, coffee. Jamila is an OC, and an old friend of him and his father. Read the first instalment of my story if you want to know more, but for now, keep in mind that she's British (literally) and has some advanced abilities. (Teleport, Psychokinesis, Telepathy)
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. And I don't own the Name Desjardins. Sue me.
∙Tea & Aides∙
Prologue: General O'Neill
Arlington, Virginia, USA, Earth
United States Department of Defence, The Pentagon
5th Floor – 5th NAF: DHS, Director's office (classified)
Thursday, March 03, 2004
1100 EST
Jack had finally (!) finished unpacking into his new office as his new secretary, 2nd Lt Desjardins, shuffled in with an enormous pile of manila folders, which the young man dropped unceremoniously onto the desk of his boss.
Jack looked up from his laptop and frowned. "Lieutenant, I don't remember that my new duties contain personnel reviews."
"Sir, no sir, and these are not reviews, but the final stage of applications." The boy was not older than 23, bright-eyed, a bit cheeky and a serious, no-nonsense attitude, in spite of his innocent "milk-face", dark blonde hair and green eyes, mounted onto a body many of the females of the staff fawned over. Jack actually liked the kid, he was one of the kind of junior officer which wasn't so easy to impress, with a rather modest attitude on top of it.
"Applications for what?" Jack grew a tad irritated.
The youngster lifted his eyebrows. "Your aide-de-camp of course. Every Department leader here has the right for one. Sir."
"Ah… and I take it I have to look at these ones personally?"
"Sir, yes sir. I filtered out the too unrealistic ones already."
Jack let out an inaudible sigh. "Well, thanks Desjardins. Dismissed."
"Sir." The boy saluted smartly and left.
"That kid is too good for his own good… better make sure no-one else notices." Jack shook his head as the door closed behind the Lieutenant. "Only his coffee is awful, not to mention his tea. Well, that would be on the list for an aide-de-camp too…" He started shifting through the files, and found himself… helpless. Unfortunately, his only stints into administration consisted of a year as what Desjardins was – a secretary for a Pentagon general – and his job as the head of the SGC, where his makeshift PA was in fact the SNCO and Chief Gate Technician, all-beloved Command Chief Master Sergeant Norman Walter Davis "Chevron Guy" Harriman. Zero knowledge what the senior PA, the aide-de-camp of a flag officer needed to be able to do. All the choices of his secretary seemed reasonable, yet not.
He flipped through the attached application forms of the files. Most of them were members of his direct Office or his newly assigned NAF – Homeworld Security and all its projects – none of them higher ranked than Major. In fact, the first senior officer rank was the odd one out among them. Some of them were other Generals' aide-de-camps who apparently either wanted a promotion or a new boss. "Too young, too old… that guy should have been promoted years ago! Doesn't type fast enough, too bad a shot, too fat… like hell I'm going to take one my secretary will spend drooling about all day! Geez!"
It was no use. Finding a secretary had been easy; the one didn't even have to be military after all, only well-organized, good on the phone and one hell of a typist. But this… he had absolutely no idea what to look for. "I don't even know any aides-de-camp… wait… there is one I know." Jack snatched the schedule folder for the SGC from the inbox, scanning for any assignments for the only remaining member of SG-1. He found none, no surprise. He picked up the phone. "Desjardins, call the SGC. They shall send Captain Bartholomew here… yes, it is urgent, I need her expertise. No, under no circumstances make me coffee. That's an order." Jack hung up. "Hopeless. The boy is going to poison me with coffee… Let's see if can get back to work."