I'm not sure why, but it makes me feel better to put these work gripes into some warped fairy tale format.

Here is the sorry saga of Mr. X. Once upon a time, there was a man with two brain cells to rub together who was as energetic and responsible as a sloth. All would not have been so bad had he not been a pilot. He worked for me and was mediocre at best in the right seat as a copilot, occasionally taking the controls and just monitoring systems. However, my very wonderful 2nd banana was going to transfer and the position needed to be filled. I advocated for two other people to my higher ups and said that Mr. X would not be good. So, they gave me Mr. X as my 2nd banana.

Mr. X was also given the chief of maintenance job, just the kind of thing you would give a guy with two brain cells and the work ethic of a sloth. One aircraft was down longer than it should have been and Mr. X was suppose to order and deliver parts. I spoke to the crew chief and he said Mr. X did not deliver the parts. I called delivery and Mr. X ordered late and the parts had not yet been delivered. I spoke to X and told him that the parts were not yet delivered and maybe he should do something. His response was, "Oh? oh...oh...ummm, oh parts? Oh parts? The parts haven't been delivered yet." On four occasions I had to remove those duties from him and do it myself because he was so inadequate and he always seemed happy that I would do it for him. After months I lost my temper one time and told him, "Mr. X, I'm not your momma, I'm not your babysitter, I'm barely your GD friend. Do your job!"

One day we were suppose to fly, I preflighted, handled the paperwork, oversaw final prep, wiped down the cockpit and seats, read over the weather and filed the flight plan. X sat there, texting his son the whole time for 45 minutes. When the fuel truck pulled up I asked him to handle that. Without looking up he told me he was texting his son.

For an overseas flight later in the evening I carried all of the life support gear to the aircraft while X walked behind me. I found out he was immune to sarcasm when I said, "Well, I guess I'll just carry all of this myself." His response was, "Oh good, I go to my son's music practice," and he left without another word.

Nearly every third landing that he took he would want to land on the wrong runway. When I was landing he would frequently tell me to land on the wrong runway so I would have to confirm with Tower. With another pilot he nearly taxiied into a 747. He could not tell east from west or north from south. I finally told him that whatever he thought, it was wrong and just to say the opposite. We would fly the same instrument approach two to three times a week and, every time he flew that approach it was like the first time he flew the approach. I would have him rehearse it five to six times prior to check in and when ATC would call, he would fall apart and I would take the radios and flight controls back.

He was a ham fisted pilot too, always using abrupt control inputs, stressing the airframe and crew. Once, in a descent, he reduced power as he should, but at 2000 feet he didn't readjust power. I was about to point this out when he snap rolled the aircraft almost 90 degrees, nearly flipping the aircraft, which would have killed us. My grabbing the flight controls and screaming at him didn't even phase him that we were going to die in a few seconds.

I started marching into my boss' office and slamming the door, saying, "I need to talk to you about that man!" I told him that X was going to kill someone and that someone was likely going to be me. I told him that X's performance plan should just be, Alice will fix it. It was like flying with a three year old. I told him I started calling X the Manbaby. My boss fought me every step of the way to keep that man flying. I finally went above his head and yanked Mr. X's wings. A check airman came out to give me a second opinion and evaluate X. The check airman gave X the opportunity to train, but X was so confident he could pass, he just went right into the eval. I had to buy the check airman a drink after. X blew through fixes without doing necessary things. He failed on nearly every call from ATC to do what they needed him to do. X even flew to the wrong city when there is a huge freaking moving map in front of his face, telling him exactly where he is and where he is going.

So, that was the sad, sorry saga of Mr. X, who is now delivering food...not by air.