The armed forces recruitment office (round 25)

If you were to read an article written on how to approach a military recruiter from the past couple years, you would see something to the effect of, “do your research ahead of time: don’t waste their time. These are the hardest working men in the military and you should be thanking them for taking you seriously.”
However, I enlisted almost 15 years ago, when the US military was desperate for recruits to send to Iraq and Afghanistan.
When I walked into my local armed forces recruitment center, it was like walking through a dog kennel with an open package of ballpark all-beef franks.
They could smell the patriotism and naivete on me.
All of the recruiters for the 5 branches of service resided in tiny offices going down a narrow hallway in the little strip mall cubbyhole they had been shoved into.

image source http://fr.memegenerator.net/Army-Recruiter

I walked into the Army recruiter’s office.
He sat behind a stack of paperwork and manila folders that seemed heavy enough to capsize his desk.
“Hello, son, are you ready to join the greatest fighting force the world has ever known?”
“I’m not sure, I can’t decide.”
“How does $10,000.00 sound?”
I thought to myself, that sounds like a pretty good first car. Maybe even a cell phone and some new clothes.
“10,000.00 enlistment bonuses, for just about any job you can think of. You don’t do drugs do you? Never mind, don’t answer that question.”
I tried to picture the amount of drugs that $10,000.00 could buy, and couldn’t.
“You got any friends? Say, we’ll give you $2,000.00 for every friend that you bring in who enlists. Got five friends? That’s another $10,000.00!”
I pictured the landing ramps dropping at Omaha Beach, while me and my 5 best friends skipped out hand in hand, throwing fistfuls of dollar bills into the air.
My heart was beating fast as I tried to wrap my head around that kind of money when I’d lived off of a hundred bucks for the past 6 months.
“I think I need to step outside for some air.”
“You got breathing problems? We can work with that too! As long as it’s not tuberculosis!”

Image source: https://www.tinker.af.mil/News/Features/Display/Article/388821/recruiting-squadron-builds-air-force-ranks-with-a-new-kind-of-recruit/

I went next door into the Air Force recruiter’s office.
It looked like a museum for everything with wings ever made.
“Hi, what sort of jobs do you guys have open in the Air Force?”
“All depends, son. Are you smart?”
“I think so, I got a scholarship.”
“No I mean, are you REALLY smart. We only take the smartest applicants, we got no room for dummies.”
I thought about my bookshelf at home which was mostly “for dummies” books next to a large stack of Cliff notes. I pointed at an F-14 Tomcat on the wall.
“Could I get a job to fly one of those?”
“Hell no, officers get to fly planes, you are going to be enlisted.”
“So what would I do then?”
“Most likely, push pallets into the back of a cargo plane. Maybe change lightbulbs on the runway. If you are REALLY smart, you might get to learn how to do some vehicle maintenance.”

image source: https://www.twincities.com/2016/01/28/movie-review-finest-hours/

I went next door to the Coast Guard recruiter.
He was watching “The Perfect Storm,” on his computer, taking notes.
“What jobs do you guys have available?”
“Can you swim?”
“I guess?" I had just taught myself to swim a month ago, so it seemed like a fair answer.
“Can you swim in 60 foot waves in full uniform, at night, with sharks?”
“Maybe,” I thought, definitely not, and was already looking across the hall into the Navy office. “say, what does the Coast Guard do anyways?”
“If the Chinese Navy were to sail into the San Francisco Bay guns blazing, who do you think is going to stop them?”
“The Navy?”
“Get out of my office.”

image source: https://movieposters.ha.com/itm/movie-posters/war/world-war-i-christy-girl-recruiting-poster-u-s-navy-1918-howard-chandler-christy-poster-27-x-41-gee-i-wish-i/a/7098-83108.s

So I went into the Navy recruiter’s office.
“So, I can swim, sort of. What jobs do you guys have open?”
The recruiter wiped the burrito cheese out of his 5 o’clock shadow.
“I don’t care if you can swim, kid. If you fall off the top of an aircraft carrier you need kevlar bones, not swimming legs.”
I looked at the picture of sailors lined up like grains of rice along the deck of the Enterprise on the poster on the wall and saw his point.
“So then, like what do I have to do if I want to be on an aircraft carrier?” In my head, Kenny Loggins was singing "Danger Zone" as Tom Cruise flew by in a scream of jet engines.
“Can you touch your toes?”
“Of course I can.”
“Don’t be a smartass, son. I can’t touch MY toes. I haven’t seen my own dick in 5 years. Well let’s see here.”
He walked his office chair over, the wheels screaming in agony and menacing creaks coming from the seat, then opened the world’s largest ringed binder in front of me. “There you go, pick one of these jobs.”
There were about 50 options, in alphabetical order.
“Can you tell me more about some of them?”
“You need me to tell you what a cook does?”
I thought to myself, that he should look in a mirror and see what a cook had done to him
I pointed to a poster of a Navy Seal on the wall, peeking out of the water with full face paint on: “Could I be that?”
“Sure you can kid, just let them know that I told you that you could.”
“I’ll just take this, and think about it.”

image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/48413764715692500/

I walked into the Marine Corps recruiter’s office.
I looked around for a chair to sit in and saw none. I started lining up my ass to make a landing on a coffee table covered with pamphlets.
“WHAT THE HELL do you think you are doing, boy.”
“Sitting.”
“You tired already?”
“Well, you are sitting so I figured….”
“I’M NOT sitting, I’m holding a Roman chair squat,” and he stood up, and no shit, he wasn’t kidding, no chair underneath him.
“Tell me, son, why do you think your wimpy ass deserves to be in my Corps?”
I wasn’t prepared to be asked a question so deep and mind-boggling, and I ended up saying,
“Do you guys have enlistment bonuses?”
The Marine Corps recruiter laughed like I had just offered to arm wrestle him and pointed across the hall to the Army recruitment office.
The Army recruiter waved at me from behind his mountain of recruit applications.
“Son, the Marine Corps has ONE job and that’s rifleman, and don’t ever let me catch you thinking about deserving a bonus.
Our bootcamp is so damned hard that your own mama won’t recognize you if you come out the other side.
When you are done with that bootcamp, you won’t get a party or a parade, or whatever it is the Navy does, you will become a BOOT for about a year, maybe two depending on how much we hate you.
That means the only job you are qualified to do is keep your boots clean and maybe use a mop, until you have become a cold-blooded killer with that rifle and get some dirt on those pretty little hands.”
I hung my head and prepared to do the walk of shame back to the Navy office.
I must have triggered something resembling pity in the Marine Corps robot’s heart, and he said.
“Pussy.” I took it as a just accusation and continued my shuffle.
“Boy, do you like pussy?”
“Yes…”
“Delta uniforms, boy. Make it through boot camp, earn your Eagle, Globe, and Anchor and you will get to wear the Delta uniform.”
He pointed at the poster of the iron-jawed Marine on the wall, wearing a deep blue coat with red stripes and gold buttons, peering into the edge of a sword, trying to see his own reflection.
“Put on the Delta uniform and you will have so much pussy chasing you, you’ll need to grow an extra dick.”

Something resembling happiness grew inside my pants, and I knew I had found my future calling.
I went back to the Navy recruiter, and signed up to be a Navy Hospital Corpsman, the only thing better than a Marine.
Most of this is actually true, down to the image of my Navy recruiter who single-handedly fought off the hordes of invading Taco Bell dollar menu items.
I love and respect all branches of military service and have the utmost respect for them and veterans of every era.
If you laughed, shame on you. =D =D =p =p

I tag @sidekickmatt and @lildebbiecakes, 2 funny cartoonists, to step up to the mic!

Do you have pencil, paper, and a thought in your head? Then you can cartoon!
Be sure to enter my weekly cartooning contest #cartoon-off. Otherwise, try to stop by and support the talented contributing cartoonists! We have a great blend of first time cartoonists and veterans!
9 #Steembasicincome shares in prizes, 3 categories.
https://steemit.com/cartoon-off/@corpsvalues/fourth-weekly-cartoon-off-contest-guest-judge-veryspider-this-week-sbi-shares

The weekly cartoon contest is sponsored by @corpsvalues, in the spirit of giving back to the Steemit community and fostering growth.
@corpsvalues is a US military veteran who does artwork to promote discussion and healing to those involved in wars, and is an avid cartoonist and writer. He does all of his own artwork in his posts, which range in topic from comic to tragic. He firmly believes that artwork is for everyone, backed by studies that have shown how artwork builds and mends neural pathways in our brains. For him, this competition is a mission to bring as many people as possible into visual creativity and foster the continued work of those already doing it.