Grad student stealing has nothing on this

I feel like there are always stories of graduate students stealing stuff from other labs and the like, but this story of a Marine in Iraq really takes the cake (post by Sebastian Bae): 

However, before I could confess to anything, my lieutenant (LT) leaned in and said, “Bae, we need you to fix the coffee machine.” Patting me on the back, he reassured me that I had all the skills and tools necessary for the job, gesturing towards the table where the defunct Mr. Coffee sat accompanied by a switchblade knife, a roll of duct tape, 6 feet of 550 cord, used coffee filters, and other miscellaneous objects best characterized as “junk the LT kept in his desk.” Before leaving, the LT added, “Oh, we also need coffee filters, Bae.” My platoon sergeant, a bear in human form, simply nodded and grumbled, “Get it done.” 

Every Marine has experienced being saddled with an impossible task by a superior. But this task was legitimately the most bizarre of my Marine career. Using random objects gathered up in the COC, I was expected to fix a coffee maker that was most likely issued back in the first Gulf War. And there was no doubt in my mind that both the LT and the platoon sergeant fully expected a hot, steaming cup of coffee in eight hours when their shift started. 

So, like any good Marine, I improvised. Using the switchblade knife, I bribed my way onto a supply convoy to Camp Ramadi. From there, I traded a can of Copenhagen Straight chewing tobacco, a rare commodity in Iraq, with a civilian contractor for a ride over to the Army side of the base. For roughly two hours, I wandered around aimlessly, peering through windows looking for a coffee machine. After a great deal of effort, I finally spotted a pristine Mr. Coffee in the backroom of the Army supply shop. Sneaking through the window, I quickly exchanged our decrepit coffee machine with the Army’s, while shoving as many coffee filters in my cargo pockets as they could handle. And like a bandit, I ran for my life. Now, imagine a young Marine, cargo pockets bursting at the seams, coffee machine cradled in his arms, frantically running off into the distance. 

By the time LT was back on duty, my squad was preparing for our daily patrol into the city. The “fixed” Mr. Coffee was humming away in the COC. All was right in the world, proving true the old Marine Corps adage: Gear adrift is a gift.

I think the thing that is missing from graduate school is the trading of stuff in order to get closer to your target for theft...