SO here I am at a retirement seminar – learning how to transition back to the… du dun duhhhh… civilian world.  Coming up on the magic number in a couple years – at which I get the boot.  No consideration for my expert ship handling or the fact that I can dance a ship of any size through a hurricane and bring my crew home safe and sound.  Nor does the fact that I have knowledge and experience to advise our top leaders have relevance… no old man it’s just time to go now.  I’m good with it and excited about what might be next.  I have big aspirations – just need someone to let us use their driveway to park the school bus in – we’ll hold up a blanket when we’re showering off with your garden hose and ask that you separate "the good stuff" out of the after meal scrapings and set it out on the porch for us (saves the noise of rummaging through your trash cans).  Might need to borrow some aluminum foil periodically to repair window coverings.

 

Anyway – this class is designed to help us figure out what we want to do when we get out.  There’s resume writing and all sorts of stuff.  After 30 years of malingering, living off your taxes, and eating up Coast Guard food – I’m right back where I was the day I enlisted.  Clueless and poor with a bleak outlook for the future.

 

I was ecstatic when we were given the aptitude test which would show what career field we were suited for.  You know – one of those, choose what best describes you; bubble in 100 circles (press hard to get through the carbon); now separate the papers without tearing them, add up the 10 columns, put the numbers in the box and in the book, graph your answer, now add the shaded areas and divide by 361; put these answers in the boxes on page 5; now take the first letter of the words in the three columns containing the highest numbers and write them on the top of your paper.  These are your career designator letters!  WOO HOO – I did it all right and didn’t need to ask for another test. We then formed groups by 3 letter designator.  There’s a class of about 30 or so – and it’s notable that I am the elephant in the room.  I try to sit off to the side and stay pretty quiet and don’t answer a lot.  It’s because I am a direct assistant to "THE ADMIRAL" who’s the boss of all these people.  And I have power to do pretty much anything I want.  Being in class with me would be kind of like being in an AA class with George Bush – just a bit awkward.  That’s what I meant by "elephant in the room" for those of you thinking I meant fat, grey, wrinkly, big-eared, or large trunked.  Anyway – I waited patiently for the group with MY three letter code to get called and form.  Alas – I was the last one sitting – so everyone assumed I must have been sleeping again when she called out my letters.  But upon closer inspection – seems I was the only one with that particular letter set.  The groups were told to talk among themselves and discuss common characteristics and the instructor just told me to sit down – (at which point I started talking to myself).  I was a bit embarrassed by the whole thing – but figured with my knowledge, time, and experience – I probably am in  a more intellectual group than my shipmates.

 

The 3 letter code also can be referenced in a book which gives specific career fields the person is suited for.  I waited until after class to look mine up.  I was thinking it was probably going to list Pope, President, Prime Minister, Disciple, Saint, King… you know stuff like that.  Wouldn’t you know, I had a very hard time finding my letters – even with alphabetical listing.  Finally though – there they were!  Only 3 career fields listed – Assistant Prep Cook, Pastry prep chef, and Ice cream chef.  WHAT THE F…?   So – I’m suited to assist a prep cook – the guy that hands the bacon to the cook, makes your toast; and after a lot of training, spoons the carefully measured pile of grits onto your plate.  Meaning I get to carefully remove the bread from the package and hand it to him – get the bacon from the fridge and hand it to him – and wash the grits spoon after he drops it on the floor.  PASTRY PREP CHEF?  WHAT?  Maybe I get to air up the cream puffs – so the CHEF – can do whatever the hell you do to cream puffs,  ICE CREAM CHEF?  Who cooks ice cream?  Maybe this means I can work in the back end of a mobile ice cream distribution vehicle (aka ice cream truck)?  This is a nightmare – this is how my mother said I would end up.  I had more skills than this when I joined the Coast Guard – I’m regressing!  At least I could bag groceries back then.  I checked a couple of other things to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. I do not, apparently possess the qualities needed by a circus clown.  I also seem to miss the boat for my dream field (I have no aspiration to be a rock star, movie star, famous athlete, or world leader) – it would be a dream come true to be a traveling carnival technician AKA CARNEY!  I know it would take work – I have all my teeth and would have to do something about that.  I gave up smoking some years back and would have to retrain at that.  I also am not currently abusing any substance, legal or illegal, but willing to give something a shot.  I can and do look kind of creepy and once allowed to sprout my head of white hair – I should make a scary movie quality gypsy!

 

Lesson learned I guess.  See what happens when you follow instructions and don’t cheat?  I also wonder… was my mom a descendant of Nostradamus?  How could she see this coming?  I always wondered "What does a lazy old lout look like?"  It’s in the mirror…  Joyce is gonna be pissed.  She wasn’t fond of the Carney idea – but I’m fairly certain Ice Cream chef isn’t her dream guy either.  My resume should be pretty easy to write… untied a million zip ties from bread wrappers; know how many slices of bread go into a sandwich; know which side is up on a turn-over; never squeeze éclairs too hard; understand the difference between a fudgesicle and an ice cream cone…

 

Soon I’ll have to start job hunting.  At least now I know where to look and I can set realistic goals.  I’m hoping Billy Currington’s new song spurs an upswing in employment of beer drinkers.  I, like Billy, am pretty good at drinkin’ beer and committed to getting better.  I was practicing real hard when I joined the Coast Guard.  My mom and Joyce both thought it to be a silly pursuit and a waste of good brain cells.  I tried to explain that I was killing off the BAD brain cells first – but they weren’t buying it.  Fortunately I culled the herd and my lone remaining brain cell is apparently immune to alcohol.  Of course it is also very temperamental, moody, and lazy – it also tends to wander and is easily distracted by anything shiny or naked. 

 

If any of you have noted any particular "aptitude" in me you think the test might have missed – I’d appreciate a call or note.  School buses ain’t cheap – and I’d really hate to have to settle for a short one just because I failed a skills and talents test.  In the meantime please pay your taxes, vote for anything the Coast Guard wants, and know that I am not SLEEPING in my office – I am in serious contemplation of the problems that challenge our nation and strategizing (with my eyes closed for better visualization) ways to protect our coast from all enemies, foreign and domestic.

 

If anyone has a good ice cream recipe – please share it…