It seems like my life revolves around self checkout terminals. All I do every single day is stand out in front of four fully automated machines while I wait for some ignorant person to screw something up. It wasn’t always like this of course. I’ve had my sense of adventure and interesting jobs too.
I remember one occasion in my past life when I worked as a concession stand clerk. I stocked the shelves and ran the register, made the smoothies and prepped the hot dogs. The hours weren’t bad either. Who can beat 11:00 in the morning to start a shift? It really wasn’t that great of a concession stand. My co-workers and I actually called it a snack shack. It was a shack that sat behind the local swimming people in a small Utah town. It had all the things a teenager could want in life at the time: freedom away from adults, a radio with included CD player, free time to read or play cards, and good company. The opening shift wasn’t so bad after the mid shift arrived at noon. At least then I had company. I even got to the point that I knew my customers by name and what they were going to order. The season pass holders for the pool almost always bought the same items with minor changes. It was a great job at the time but it just didn’t have the hours I needed.
A few months later and I found myself pushing shopping carts into the local grocery store in the heat of a late summer. The job gave me a one dollar an hour pay increase and about 8 more hours a week of work. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same fun factor as my previous job. I usually pushed shopping carts for five or six hours a day while also cleaning up after cashiers and dirty customers. I eventually became a cashier because of all my hard work and effort. The job became monotonous after a while and I grew tired of the same thing every day. After about two and a half years I came to the decision that I either had to get out now or I would be doomed to stay in that career forever. I was good in school, but I hated it with a passion. I needed a change and I needed it immediately.
Just shy of my 19th birthday I decided I would try preaching the gospel. I filled out my paper work for the church I belong to, got my medical records updated, and eagerly awaited for my mission call. Several weeks after handing in my paper work I received the notice that I would be serving a mission in Mexico City. It would be two years long and after those two years I would return home and report.
I packed my bags and arrived at the training center on my report date, June 29th. I worked hard and changed many people’s lives. This of course had a large impact on my life. It increased my desire to serve and created in me a higher discipline. It also allowed me to learn Spanish fluently. This would be a big advantage to me later in life.
When I arrived back home I once again had no guidance or direction in life. I hung out with my older brother a lot at the car customizing shop he owned. I learned a lot from him and he may never understand how much his companionship meant to me while I transitioned from not having direction to finding a steady job.
I eventually found myself a decent paying job at American Express. I even had a cool sounding title, Customer Care Professional. The people were great, the pay and vacation was nice, but the customers drove me crazy. It wasn’t even the customers so much as it was trying to fix their problems over the phone. I like face to face transactions, and being on a phone eight hours a day isn’t the most fun thing I could think of doing at a job. Needless to say I quit there after about 6 months.
My life was doomed, or so I thought. The economy was failing, jobs were running out, and gas prices were hitting all time highs. Lucky for me I received a job offer from a past employer. Yes, I went back to the job I tried to run from by serving a mission. It’s funny how the world moves us back and forth. This time I decided to set my own terms. I made sure I could pick whatever days off I needed and the hours I wanted to work. I also set my pay before returning. They were desperate for a good cashier and didn’t want to spend the money training a new one. Once again I went back to the monotonous job I had before, along with the attitude driven customers.
The unique difference I had this time around was the fact that I spoke and understood Spanish fluently. One day while I was speaking to a Hispanic customer, one of my co-workers overheard it and was astonished. She asked why a man with my talent was working in a grocery store. She suggested I join the army.
Throughout my life I have thought of joining the army many times. The thought of being blown up has usually been enough to keep me out of it. However, upon hearing this suggestion I couldn’t help but consider it a possibility. It would provide action and adventure to a man with no direction.
Don’t get me wrong now. I did have some higher education under my belt with the plan of graduating with a degree in Spanish teaching. I just wasn’t in a hurry to get there.
Anyway, with a push in the right direction I found myself walking into a National Guard recruiting office. I decided on the National Guard because hey, let’s face it, if it gets old and boring at least I’ll only worry about it one weekend a month instead of 3 years straight.
Upon walking in I told the recruiter what I wanted to do and that I needed to do it quickly. I wanted to be an interrogator in a foreign language. He asked if I knew anything about the ASVAB test. I said no, but that I was willing to take it. I went in a day or two later at around eight in the morning and waited for him to show up to take me to the testing center. It soon became a long day. The test took several hours and being that I hadn’t had a whole lot of schooling in the last five years, I got a headache from digging deep into my brain to find the answers.
Eventually the test ended and I was brought back outside to the waiting room to sit and wonder how I did. When my recruiter showed up to take me home they handed me an envelope. He told me to open it and tell him what the score was. I opened it up and saw that I had scored an 88. It was high enough to do whatever career I wanted in the military. I decided to stick with my guns and become a human intelligence collector.
With some further paper work and a medical exam I arrived to the day that I could sign my contract and become official. The day I went into the MEPS building was the day that would change my life forever. They told me my basic training date would be March 3, 2010. I was in shock. That was still six months away. I signed up the first week of September and had dropped my school classes so I could ship immediately to basic training. Oh well. This gave me six months to save money so I wouldn’t have to worry about bills while I was gone.
Finally the long awaited day arrived. I checked in at MEPS and had another medical review to make sure I hadn’t destroyed my body while I was gone. It took almost 6 hours to have them look at me for 10 minutes. It was pathetic. Hurry up and wait would become my slogan in my army career. After all the fuss at MEPS (Military Entrance and Processing Station) , I was driven back to the hotel where my mother was waiting for me so she could take me home for one last time to see my friends and have dinner with the family.
I spent my last few hours hanging out with Brittney, Matt, Amanda, Scott, and my family. I thought that going away would be harder than it was. I guess someone with a cold heart can hold his emotions in better. When I went to Mexico for two years it was a lot more difficult. The tears were flowing and I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach just before heading to Mexico. This time there was nothing. Oh well.
After hanging with family and friends, I was driven back to my hotel where I went to sleep and awaited my future. I woke up bright and early the next morning around 4:45 a.m. We were loaded on a shuttle and taken to the airport. I honestly thought the airport was further away, but we arrived in like five minutes. They dropped us off and we went and got our electronic tickets printed out.
The plane ride was nice I think. I actually fell asleep and stayed that way with the exception of getting a drink on the plane. After we arrived to Atlanta we boarded our next plane and I slept for another hour. We finally arrived after almost 5 hours in Columbia, South Carolina. They had a nice waiting area just for future soldiers and we hung out there for about twenty minutes. This of course was after we grabbed a bite to eat. The shuttle to take us to Ft. Jackson arrived and we boarded with nervousness. I might add that I obviously wasn’t alone and was flying with other future comrades in arms. We arrived at the reception area of Ft. Jackson and waited for someone to tell us what to do.
A sergeant got onto the bus and told us to get off and file into a room that he lead us to. We stood standing behind some really long tables that were full of books and paper work. We were told to take our seats and not touch anything until told to do so. The sergeant left and a specialist came in and dictated to us step by step what we needed to do. Some people had problems following simple directions. Others were trying to predict what the next order would be and would then get yelled at for anticipating the command. I think some people began to wonder what on earth they had gotten themselves into.
We finished our simple paper work and were then escorted into another room. We were told to start studying one of the books we got and were instructed it was an inspectionable item and that it was to remain on our person at all times. Essentially it was the basic training manual. We had no tables and no chairs. Just a floor made out of rubber. We were instructed to line up in the squares leaving one space between each person and to then sit down and read. We sat there for a couple of hours while we waited for the next group to arrive.
Now, for anyone who doesn’t know what it’s like to sit on a floor for several hours, I don’t recommend it. Especially if it is in a room that has no windows, with around 30 other people who are scared out of their mind. People start to fidget and get quite restless after about 15 minutes. The army doesn’t like to let anyone know what is going on until the army itself knows what is going on. This of course means that no one knows what is going on. This includes privates, drill sergeants, staff sergeants, sergeant majors, and just about anyone else you can think of. While sitting in this room with no windows, I would often look up from my book and stare at the clock and watch it tick on. One hour would go by and then another and then another. Occasionally my focus would be shifted from the clock to the doorway where I could hear people talking and moving around. Sometimes I was even lucky enough to have more people join my misery in the room. As more people got dropped off the room began to stink. Nervous stomachs and a room full of people makes for a flagellant time. Legs also are almost completely numb due to the fact that we have to remain seated in our 2 FT by 2 FT square. The only way we can even get up is if we are going to the bathroom. Going to the bathroom requires talking to the person to your left or your right because you always need a battle buddy when you go somewhere.
On a side note, I’m not even quite sure myself why they insist on us having a battle buddy everywhere we go. I mean…they are going to give us a weapon, they are going to let us play with explosives, and they are going to let us march into battle to die…so therein lies the question. Why can’t I go to the bathroom on my own? Anyway, back to where I was.
Finally it was around 2300 hour’s Eastern Time when a drill sergeant entered the room and made us stand on our feet. It was hilarious to watch people try to stand at the position of attention after just having sat for four hours straight. People’s legs began to buckle from the get go and soon people were falling over. They caught themselves before they completely fell of course. This caused the drill sergeant to yell at them and give them a five minute lecture on not locking their legs. Apparently he forgot that we had been sitting cross-legged for several hours. Anyway, he had us dump our entire personal bag onto the floor and we began to sort our items. Most items people brought were considered contraband and had to go into the trash can. Items such as tobacco were the first of these to go. Some things included knives, condoms, prescription drugs, and other misc. items. We finished around midnight and were taken to another room where we stood in yet another line in order to receive our physical fitness uniforms (after all, we did need something to wear in the morning. I mean, it’s not like we can walk around in civilian clothes for one more day.)
By now we had been up quite a while. Most of us were starting to get headaches from staying awake for so long and not being able to sit on something comfortable and close our eyes while we rested. Shutting your eyes when you’re not in bed is illegal in the army. If you are caught sleeping you will be stood up next to a wall, publicly embarrassed, and then shot at by a firing squad. Ok, maybe the firing squad is a bit of a stretch. They actually can’t use physical correction while in reception mode. This, however, means that the drill sergeants are Jedi Masters at public humiliation. If they can’t teach you by the sweat of your brow, they’ll teach you by how red they can make your face. They can go so far as to make a person completely speechless. Words are unable to form in their mouth and if words can come out they are usually filled with stupidity which only fuels the Jedi Master’s fire. I’ve watched many privates completely lock up and actually begin to sweat because a drill sergeant was yelling at them for piddly mistakes. The only way to counter the drill sergeant is to pretend they are yelling at someone else. I used a different approach however. I put on an invisibility cloak so no one could see me the entire time. Later down the road I would make a name for myself and defend the title of moron with lots of pride and a full ego.
Where was I? Oh yeah… We had been up for hours and were slowly becoming a mass of delusional privates. They took us to where our bunks would be for the next week and issued us sheets. We then crashed into bed only to be woken four hours later and made to stand in formation.
Privates are morons. We are dumb. We are stupid. We fart. We yell. We laugh. We fall. We can’t count. We can’t read. We can’t do much of anything. It’s a good thing most of us were already potty trained or we would be in real bad shape. Formation while in reception consists of sixty people lining up in four lines in alphabetical order. By the way, we don’t have a list or name tags. Good luck getting 60 people to cooperate through an alphabetizing process without a proper leader. Mostly the morning air was filled with “Shut the F*** up”, “Get in the F****** line”, which were then followed by other looks and comments related to “Kiss my A**”. This is how every morning started up until we left reception. Even after four days of doing the same formation in the same order, people were still screwing up. Anyway, we stood in formation and were taken to breakfast. Everywhere else in the world we would call it a cafeteria. However, the army is obsessed with acronyms, and likes to make simple things extremely complicated. We called the chow hall a DFAC. This is short for dining facility. I’m not however quite sure it deserves the word “dine” in the title. In order to eat in the dining facility, one must enter in the right side entrance doors. After entering, you turn right and wind your way around the line area. If for some reason you should come to a stop, you must go to the position of attention, and then snap to parade rest. This is done by bringing your feet together and looking straight forward. Your fingers should remain curled and at your side along the seam of your pants. This is the position of attention. There is no talking, moving, biting your lip, humming, sniffing, scratching, or anything else that involves something other than blinking and breathing. Parade Rest is achieved by spreading your legs shoulder width apart by moving your left leg only. Then bringing your hands up behind your back and placed in the small of your back with your right hand on top and the left hand under it. The fingers should be extended and joined. In the chow line there must always be two lines, one on the left and one on the right. They are slightly staggered. You must also be as the drill sergeants say…nut to butt. This means you are standing very close to the person in front of you. You are to eat as fast as humanly possible without talking. If you’re talking, you’re wrong. If you have time to talk, it means food isn’t in your mouth which means you must be done. If you talk you are kicked out. The food isn’t all that bad, but I still wouldn’t call it dining out.
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