My Aborted Miliary Career: The Rest of the Story
Some time back, Profunksticated talked about losing a military career and gaining a journalistic one in this post. I promised to tell you how it happened.
During my freshman year, a staff sergeant at my school’s Air Force ROTC detachment gave me a form certifying I’d never used drugs. So on it, I lied and said no. The following semester, my sophomore year, the same sergeant gave me the same form to fill out.
Anyone else would have said, "Hey sarge, I already filled out this form last semester." To which he probably would have said OK, and the matter would have been dropped. But this is Pro we’re talking about. My dumb azz panicked. Stuff was racing through my 18-year-old head. Why are they giving me this form again? Do they know something? Did someone see me smoking weed?
I didn’t stick with the lie. This time I told the truth and said I had used. That set off a chain of events that led to my paperwork being sent to some Air Force base in Georgia. Several weeks passed, then I was called into a meeting with the detachment commander, a full-bird colonel, who delivered the bad news. I was dismissed from ROTC. He showed me the form I filled out that semester and the form on which I lied the previous year. "There’s nothing I can do," he said.
I was crushed. This occurred right before Thanksgiving of 1978. I called my parents and told them what happened, figuring I’d give them time to get mad and that they’d have cooled off by the time I came home for Christmas. When I got home, my father calmly expressed his disappointment that not only I used marijuana, but that I also admitted it. I sometimes believe he still carries that disappointment with me to this day.
The commander, the O-6, told me I would have undergone a background investigation that would have revealed my drug use anyway. I believed that nonsense then. Today, I think, the only way some military investigator would know I used is that someone would have told them. None of my peers would have dropped dime like that on me, assuming they talked to my friends.
So that, my friends, is how I strangled my budding military career. There are days I rue what happened, when I think that had I made a career of the Air Force, I’d be retired now and collecting what, half my pay? Despite the setback, my life turned out pretty good. It should have been better, though.
I have to admit that the drug use that continued until my late 30s in all liklihood prevented me from doing far greater things than what I did manage to accomplish.
LOL!! This is too funny. Its also a prime example of good kids doing bad things. Your innocence made you fess up… awwww.
Last night I was pondering paths of life and trying to figure out how much of an impact does the selection of one path over another really effect our lives. I came to the conclusion that it couldn’t be by much. If you’re a believer of destiny (which to me is spawned by the domino effect of your words, actions, habits, and character), you ultimately have the same responses/reactions to all situations, that would eventually lead you to the same end that God has already written for you. I know, this is probably a bunch of jibber jabber…
I was a horrible liar when I was a kid. Unfortunately, I got slightly better at it as an adult. Mostly I tend to omit stuff rather than lie. I believe they call it spinning. Hard to say whether an Air Force career would have led me to the same spot I am today.
Comment by Marketing Prophetess — November 18, 2008 @ 12:06 pm
Wow interesting story on how your career changed…your dad is interesting, that he was mad you admitted it:) as long as u r happy things turned out better in your journalism career.
Shazza, trust, my dad was mad/disappointed that I used also. He hated drugs and drug users, although he used to drink. (But fortunately he wasn’t an alcoholic.) In my 12-step program, we consider alcohol a drug. The only difference is alcohol is legal. The journalism career turned out OK, but it could have been better. Journalism is not a family-friendly occupation, especially if you want to make a name for yourself. I wasn’t willing to work round the clock.
Comment by Shazza — November 25, 2008 @ 11:29 am
Short -time lurker, first time poster here…
I feel you, Pro. Your story is very familiar. I entered the military and was set to go into cryptology as an interpreter. I liked the field, I scored well on the test, I liked that it was not a ‘dirty’ job (I got to stay fresh and clean every day), and it would lead to good job prospects on the outside.
When I filled out the security background check form, I got the “We can find EVERYTHING out about you, so you better spill it!!!” speech. And I believed it. So I told about some shenanigans I got into when I was underage. I never got arrested, and it wasn’t on any record. After being questioned about it, I got told that I couldn’t enter the cryptology field. I was relegated to a small set of potential fields, all engineering-related: boiler technician (yes, I was in the Navy), damage controlman, etc. I picked boiler technician. And it was the worst decision I ever made. I struggled for 6 years doing nasty, thankless, long and hard work. For shore duty, I was an MP, which was wonderful. Then I finished out my time in engineering again. I did try to change jobs, but the military’s view was, “You’ve already done 12 years. What’s another 8?” Another 8 would have been my sanity, possibly my self-worth (lots of sexual harassment in the places I had to work), and leaving the military with lots of experience doing something I hated waking up for. During my final year, my attitude got terrible and I was on the verge of getting in trouble, which is really not like me. I weighed the pros and cons and left. I loved the military, but I hated my job. My life is turning out very well. I have a good job with a great company, educational benefits that are paying for my degree, a schedule that works for me, and my health. When people find out that I did 12 and a half years in the military, they’re surprised. I don’t look that old. I tell them that if I had not left when I did, I’d probably look a lot older.
Shanda, welcome!!! Yeah, that “Spill It!” spiel is exactly the line I fell for. But any investigation is only as good as willingness of folks questioned to tell the truth. I mean, how are they going to find out every little thing about you?
I’m glad you’re doing a lot better. Don’t be a stranger. You’ll find I give it straight with no chaser.
Comment by Shanda — December 4, 2008 @ 12:52 am