Tag Archives: career

Starting a new career, Part 3

Posted by Mike Grice on

A few posts ago I left you with four sheets of paper, each with a different title at the top.  Hopefully you have had some time to think, reflect, and list out those things that match the topic for each sheet.

The purpose of the four lists is to put on paper those things that are important enough to you to write down; the actual act of putting pen or pencil to paper is important because it is a record of how you feel about a particular part of your life.

At any rate, you should have four lists:

THINGS I AM GOOD AT

THINGS I AM BAD AT

THINGS I LIKE TO DO

THINGS THAT I HATE TO DO

Now here comes the fun part.

Take the THINGS I AM GOOD AT paper and place it next to THINGS THAT I HATE TO DO.  Put the other sheets aside for now.

Starting at the top of the THINGS I AM GOOD AT sheet, look for any matches in the THINGS THAT I HATE TO DO list.  If there are any matches, then cross them off the “GOOD AT” list.

When I did this the first time it was a startling exercise because I had never really thought about my talents and skills from the perspective of whether I liked to do them or not.  On my “GOOD AT” list, for example, was curriculum management for military training and education courses.  I have a lot experience setting up and running training programs, classes, and programs of instruction.  So much experience that I was actually regarded as being an expert of sorts on the subject.  That said, on my “HATE TO DO” list I had written down bureaucratic paperwork –  and that is exactly what curriculum management is all about.  I had never really considered that I did not like to do the tasks associated with curriculum development and management, but by performing this simple exercise I came to the realization that I really didn’t want to pursue it as a future career despite having many opportunities to do so.

Now move on to the THINGS I AM BAD AT and THINGS THAT I LIKE TO DO lists.

This pairing takes a little more consideration.  Just because you are bad at something doesn’t mean that you can’t get better at it.  So for this list, start at the top of the “LIKE TO DO” list and compare it to the “BAD AT” list.  It may sound odd, but maybe you like skiing but have never had a chance to hit the slopes enough to improve past the bunny hill.

If there are any matches, then ask yourself this question:

“I really like writing (or woodworking, or gardening, or school, or whatever) but I am not good at it.  Is it something that I am willing to dedicate my energies to becoming better at in the future?”

This is important because it may be a doorway into a new career path or other life choice.  Maybe you can go to school to learn how to be better at whatever it is, or perhaps you will find an apprenticeship or some other program to enter that field.  Or, if you really want to become a better skiier, moving to a state like Colorado or Utah may be a good idea.

However, if you are not willing to dedicate your energies to get better, then cross it off the “LIKE TO DO” list.

So now your lists should be a little shorter.  Time for the next step.

Place your “LIKE TO DO” and “GOOD AT” lists next to each other.  Now look for matches.  What do you like to do that is also something you are good at?  Circle those matches in big red marker.

Now line up the “BAD AT” and “HATE TO DO” lists.  Any matches here?  If so, circle those as well.

Here is the last step: Line up all four sheets on the table, starting with “LIKE TO DO”, then “GOOD AT”, then “BAD AT” and “HATE TO DO”.  These four sheets of paper represent the spectrum of possibilities that you can pursue, based on your thoughtfully created lists.

What strikes you on the “LIKE/GOOD” side?  Do any of those circled items jump out at you?  Is there something that gets quickens your pulse?  That may be a path to a rewarding future.  How about the “BAD/HATE” side?  Is there anything there that makes you nauseous?  You probably ought to steer clear of those.

This is really an exercise in thinking about your future.  All military people, whether they serve three years or thirty, depart the service with a set of skills and talents that they have dedicated themselves to.  Just because you were really good at your job in uniform does not mean that it is the only thing you can do for the rest of your life.  If you are not careful you will become myopic and it will significantly impact your future; if all you see yourself as is an infantryman then you will have a hard time finding a job in the civilian world.

A common problem that I see with veterans I work with is that they are fixated on who they were, and not on who they could be.  Their military past so rigidly defined their persona that they have difficulty getting past their short haircuts and affectation for military jargon.

There is nothing wrong with being incredibly proud of your service and the Marine, Sailor, Soldier, or Airman that you were whilst in uniform.  To start a new career, however, means that you must be willing to accept that you are no longer in the military but instead are able to follow a new path in life.  You may have been the greatest infantryman on the planet but if you want a job in the corporate sector you need to recognize that there are no infantry units in the civilian world.

Hopefully this little exercise uncovered some opportunities that you can pursue in the future, and it showed that you are capable finding a new and rewarding career for your life after the military.

If nothing else, it gave you something to do for a couple of days.

All it cost was four pieces of paper.

Starting a new career, Part 2

Posted by Mike Grice on

When I last left you we were working on a little self discovery.  A big part of starting anew is finding out what you are really suited to do; not just what you want to do or are good at, but something that will be rewarding and meaningful.

That isn’t to say that you can’t go out and be whatever you want to be, but we live in the real world and not everyone is independently wealthy or capable of living on dirt, rocks, and rainwater.  As you depart the service you have a whole new life to live, and the best way to live it is to have an idea of where you really want to go.

In the previous post I left you with four sheets of paper in front of you.  It has been a few days, so you should have one sheet filled out with a list of things that you are good at and another with a list of things you are bad at.  Go ahead an put those two sheets aside for now, but don’t lose them.  We are going to need them in a few days.

Now take out the two blank pieces of paper.  Our previous lists evaluated our skills, and today we are going to look into ourselves and evaluate what our desires are.  These are not the same things as skills!

Here is why.

Everybody has had a job that they hated.  Maybe it was delivering newspapers in the snow and rain, and maybe it was working in an office.  You were probably very good at whatever that detested job was, but just because you were good at it doesn’t mean that you want to do it for the rest of your life.

So, as you probably have guessed, you are going to pull the first sheet of paper out and write this at the top in big, bold, capital letters:

THINGS THAT I LIKE TO DO

List out those things that you really enjoy.  Not just work or professional items, but everything that you truly take pleasure in doing.  Maybe it is fishing.  Perhaps you love writing.  Maybe you love the outdoors…or the indoors…or watching football.  Your list is yours.  Take some time and write things down that make you happy.

As you have probably also guessed, the next sheet of paper should have this written at the top:

THINGS THAT I HATE TO DO

Go ahead.  Vent.  It is good for the soul to actually put on paper those things that you absolutely despise.  It doesn’t only have to be things that you abhor, so go ahead and include the things that you just don’t like.  After all, you are in the driver’s seat of the car that will take you through the rest of your life, so why not make it a sweet ride free from the stuff you don’t enjoy?  Think beyond the context of work – do you hate crowded places?  Cigarette smoke?  Broccoli?  Whatever it is, write it down.

Take a few days to compose your lists.  Have them handy and jot down things as they pop into your head.  Sleep on it.  You’ve got a few days until we take the next step, so go ahead and take your time.  Write as much as you can!  The more you vent the better you will feel, and also the more you write the more effective this exercise will be for your future.

Starting a new career

Posted by Mike Grice on

One of the things about transitioning from the military is that you cross a very bright line from being in uniform to being out of uniform.  One day you are lacing up your combat boots and saluting the flag while the next you are suddenly faced with deciding, on your own, what shoes you are going to wear after sleeping in well past reveille.

It can be a bit jolting. One of the most jarring bits is realizing that you have crossed the line into the civilian world, and that there is no going back. With that realization comes the need to start your next career, and that is what we are going to be talking about for the next few posts.

Before you can find a job or a new career you need to determine where you want to go.  For a lot of reasons it isn’t as easy as it seems!  Where do you even start?

You start by getting out four sheets of paper.

Take two of those sheets and set them aside- they are for the next post.  The two that remain are today’s focus. A real challenge that transitioning military types face is not just what they want to do in the future, but what are they suited for?  What is really a good career choice for the way ahead?

It isn’t that people don’t have an idea of what it is they would like to do next, but they don’t know how to get there.  How do they start a new and rewarding career? We’ll go down that road together, starting with your two blank pages. At the top of the first sheet write, in big capital letters:

THINGS I AM GOOD AT

Now start listing things that you are good at.  Not just work, but hobbies, sports, or anything else that you (or others) feel that are your strengths.  Maybe you are a great aircraft mechanic.  A terrific infantryman.  A woodworking hobbyist.  A mountain biker.  Whatever it is that you are good at needs to go on the list.

Now pick up the second sheet.  On this one, write in big capital letters:

THINGS I AM BAD AT

This one is more difficult than the things that you are good at because it requires a certain amount of reflection and honesty about your abilities and talents.  Once you begin, though, it is surprising how quickly it is populated.  Maybe your penmanship is terrible (like mine!).  Maybe you can’t type.  Really take a look at yourself; are you indecisive?  Maybe a little too decisive?  Are you overly aggressive or passive?  Are you an introvert who finds cocktail parties excruciating?  Afraid of public speaking?

Take the lists with you for a day or so.  Don’t expect to write everything down at one sitting, but instead jot down bullets as they come to you.

Then sleep on it.  When you get up the next day take a look at the lists again over your coffee and breakfast.  I guarantee that you will have a few more thing to jot down.

I’ll give you a couple of days to work on your lists.  Then we’ll get to work on your other two sheets of paper…..

Good luck and be honest with yourself – especially on the second list!  It will pay off in the future.  I promise!

The Gap

Posted by Mike Grice on

Marines don’t serve for the money.  You can’t put a price on the hardships, the time away from your family, the danger, or the camaraderie that comes with wearing the uniform in the defense of the nation.  The pay is enough to live comfortably, but certainly no one in the service is getting rich on their military paychecks.

Although you aren’t becoming wealthy on payday you are getting paid for what you do.  The government does a great job of ensuring that you receive what you are entitled to by dropping half of your monthly salary by direct deposit into your bank twice a month.  Despite the fiscal challenges that the nation faces the thought of not paying the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines who keep the country safe makes lawmakers squirm and infuriates taxpayers.  Suffice it to say that just like clockwork your paycheck will find its way into your bank account on the first and fifteenth of the month (unless those dates are holidays or weekends, in which case you get paid a few days earlier – which is always nice!).

Those checks just keep on coming, at least until your last day in uniform.  Then things get a little more complicated.

The military pay cycle is pretty simple.  In employment terms, all military personnel are government employees who are paid a base monthly salary in addition to any additional benefit payments that they are entitled to.  The base salary is taxed at the normal federal and state rates, but the benefits are not.  Examples of benefits include things like Basic Allowance for Housing (BAH, which subsidizes off-base housing) and Basic Allowance for Subsistence (BAS, which is a meal stipend).  There are many more, like jump pay (for those who find falling out of perfectly good airplanes on a regular basis as part of their job description) and combat pay (that not-so-huge amount of extra money you receive for going to places where bad people shoot at you).

So, all of these things are added up, resulting in your gross monthly pay.  Taxes and any other allotments (allotments being automatic withdrawals from your pay for things like Serviceman’s Group Life Insurance or savings bonds) are then subtracted, and the result is the money that is due to you for your service.   That amount is divided into two equal payments, which are in turn dropped into your bank account on payday.

It is important to remember that the month is divided into two portions, with the first half of the month being paid for on the fifteenth and the second half of the month being paid on the first of the following month.  This is very important to remember as you transition, because if your last day in uniform is the end of the month then your last paycheck is due the next day, and it will include all of your service up to the day of transition.

Well, it’s supposed to.  It’s not that simple.

Your last paycheck most likely will not show up when you expect it to.  Unless you are very fortunate, it will be delayed for a few days or weeks.  Although each service has slightly different regulations on your final mustering out pay, they all have the same basic requirements: the final paycheck must include all pay and benefits due to the separating servicemember minus any obligations that he or she owes the government.

This can be pretty surprising if you don’t expect it.  What obligations can you owe the government?  The obvious ones are any fines that you incurred by getting in trouble, but if you stayed on the straight and narrow you should be good, right?

Not necessarily.  The bean counters hold your final paycheck in their possession until all of the possible ways that you could owe money are doublechecked.  These include (but are not limited to) charges for any equipment that you may have lost (remember turning in all of your gear to the Consolidated Issue Facility?) or adjustments to benefit payments (for example, it is not uncommon for your combat related payments to be properly adjusted for a few months after you return from theater, and any overpayments will be recouped by the government).  Your final paycheck will also settle up any additional amount that the government owes you for things like unused leave.  The long and the short of it is that your final settlement paycheck is most likely not going to show up on the same schedule as you are accustomed to.

If you are relying on that check to pay for necessities then you are in for a rude surprise.  No amount of begging or complaining will make that paycheck show up any faster.  You can help yourself, though, by making sure that all of your ducks are in a row as you check out.  Make sure that all of your gear is turned in, for example, and include the receipt showing a zero balance with your checkout paperwork.  Stop by your admin shop and make sure that your pay and allowances are correct before you check out- deal with any problems up front and you won’t have to wait as long for your final paycheck because you are making the bean counter’s job that much easier.

In my case, my final paycheck took 26 days from when my terminal leave expired and it showed up in my bank.  Welcome to “the gap”.

The retirement pay cycle is monthly, as opposed to the bi-monthly system that active duty personnel enjoy.  Your first retired check is due on the first of the month after you retire, which means that you are not going to receive a paycheck at all until a full month after you get out.

This can be quite disconcerting if you don’t plan for it.  When you retire you are going to have a month without a paycheck so make sure to be ready!  Don’t put yourself and your family in the sad position of having to eat sawdust and oatmeal until you retirement check shows up.  Sock a little extra into savings ahead of time or mooch a few bucks from your relatives to bridge the gap, but make sure that you are prepared to go for a month without a paycheck.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

__________

Lessons learned:

1.  Your final paycheck will be held up as the accountants settle up all of your accounts.  If you are relying on it to cover immediate expenses then you are in for a tough financial time.  Plan ahead!

2.  Your final paycheck will be reduced by any payments you owe the government and increased by any payments the government owes you, so it will most likely be an amount that may differ significantly from your normal pay amount.

3.  Unlike the bi-monthly active duty pay cycle, your pension is paid monthly with your retirement check arriving the first of the following month.

Networking and the MEA

Posted by Mike Grice on

The other night I had the opportunity to attend a Marine Executive Association (MEA)-West meeting.  What is the MEA, you ask?  I’m glad you did, because it is a great resource for transitioning servicemen and women because it leads to something we all need: jobs.

The MEA is a networking organization where people like me who are leaving the service can meet others who are transitioning as well as business people who need quality people to join their organizations.  It is informal (after all, the only rank anyone has after they get out is “Marine”) and informative, because most of transitioning military types really don’t know that much about civilian employment.

Here is the writeup about the association from their website (http://www.marineea.org/):

“The Marine Executive Association is a national, volunteer, non-profit organization of former and current active duty Marines who provide assistance to Marines transitioning from active duty to reserve/retired status, leaving the Corps at the end of obligated service or moving from one civilian career/job to another. Transition assistance includes: Resume review; Job hunting and interview tips and techniques; Job posting by employers to the MEA web site; Resume posting by Marines for employer download; and resume and interview coaching by volunteer Marine. The MEA provides a weekly E-Mail list of all jobs that have been posted during the previous week and resumes posted for employer download, review and screening.”

The association is open to all services, and in the most recent meeting that I attended there were Air Force, Army, and Navy vets there too.  Transition is the great equalizer and now that we all dress the same we share the same concerns and have the same need for employment, so the inter-service rivalry goes right out the window.  We’re all in the same boat now.

The meetings are monthly occurrences.  On the third Wednesday of the month the attendees gather to socialize and have a drink at Iron Mike’s, which is the Staff Noncommissioned Officer’s club located in Camp Pentleton’s South Mesa events center.  After a half hour or so, we all migrate over to a meeting room where a guest speaker will talk to the crowd about what it’s like on the other side of the fence.  Our speaker for the last meeting was Kim Shepherd, the Chief Executive Officer of the Alfred P. Sloan award winning placement firm Decision Toolbox.  She gave us tremendous insights into the business world, with a strong emphasis on how to evaluate yourself in order to find what you are really interested in doing in your next career.  Kim was followed by a group of business leaders from the Los Angeles area who are interested in helping veterans learn more about the business world.  They are a group of great Americans who want to help vets find jobs, and they shared some great ideas and recommendations to help veterans make it from job seeker to job finder.

One of the great aspects of MEA meetings is that we get to hear about the corporate sector from corporate professionals, and the insights that they give are priceless.  It isn’t every day that an industry leader takes the time to mentor a pool of job seekers, but it happens at the MEA.  Research has shown that roughly 80% of jobs are found through networking – so getting to know people is certainly in your best interest as you transition!

After the guest speakers are finished we all introduce ourselves.  This is a chance to give your “elevator pitch”, which is a thirty to sixty second sound bite about yourself and what you are looking for.  You never get a second chance to make a first impression, and by standing up in front of a room full of people it gives you a little practice.  It also lets the employers in the room know if you are someone that fits their needs, and I have personally witnessed vets get job interviews on the spot after the introductions are finished; such is the power of networking!

The introductions are the last part of the structured meeting.  Once they are completed the formal part of the meeting is done it is a little like a high school dance as job seekers work their way across the room to meet up with businesspeople who have pitched the opportunities available in their organizations.  It is also when old friends catch up and new friendships are forged, or in other words, the networking tree grows a little stronger and new branches sprout.

It is a great opportunity to get out there and see what the job market is like.  Once you get plugged into MEA-West, you can begin receiving emails from the head of the organization.  He sends out dozens of emails each week, and each one contains anywhere from one to ten or twenty job opportunities.  Many of these opportunities are first listed in Steve’s emails, and a lot of veterans have found employment through the MEA.  One former Marine who left active duty in the 1990s shared that every job he has taken since taking off his uniform has been through MEA-West networking, and he is far from alone.  Even in this tough employment market there are jobs out there.  Networking with the MEA will help you find them, so find out where and when the next meeting goes and belly up to the bar!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Networking works.  In today’s economic uncertainty there are literally millions of resumes flying around, and the stories about people who have submitted hundreds or thousands of resumes without finding a job are constantly in the news.  The vast majority of employment opportunities are found through someone you know, so increase your chances by getting out there and meeting people.

2.  Help yourself as you network.  If you don’t have personalized business cards yet, then get some printed up.  I personally recommend that you go to a stationary shop and have a set professionally done with only your name and contact information printed on the card.  This is for two reasons: first, you are looking for a job, and it is not the best idea to use the card from your current job to find a new one and second, handing a professional looking and feeling card with your name, phone number, and email address saves both you and the person you are interacting with from writing that info down on a cocktail napkin.  Anybody can print out a flimsy card on their computer, but remember that the first impression is the most important.  Do you want to be remembered as the cheapskate with homemade cards or the kind of person who puts some effort into finding a job?

3.  Carry a resume.  I will write a lot in the future about how to prepare a resume, but attending a networking meeting without your resume (and personalized business cards) is a bit like going to a nightclub in your pajamas – sure, you’re there but you aren’t really ready to participate.  Many employers are looking to immediately fill positions, and the guy or gal with a resume will get the job before the one who doesn’t.  Don’t be that person with empty hands when an employer asks for your resume!

4.  There are countless networking organizations out there.  MEA is just one, but there are commensurate organizations for all branches of the armed forces, for federal employees, civic organizations, etc.  They are all tremendous resources that you can tap for free, and you will certainly meet some great people along the way that will help you along the path to employment.

The little things, part 1: A new ID card

Posted by Mike Grice on

So it had finally happened.  The big day had arrived and I found myself suddenly thrust back out into the real world.  Crossing the threshold of transition is more than just metaphorical, however.  There are still quite a few things that have to be accomplished before the process of becoming a civilian again is complete.

One important “little thing” is obtaining the official token of retirement: the blue identification card.  It is the key to your benefits after leaving active duty; benefits like health care, shopping at the base exchange or commissary, and the proof of your service that allows you to drive onto base.  Unlike your active duty ID card, however, it doesn’t require renewal every three years.  It expires on your 65th birthday, where upon I suppose I will have to drive down to the Pass and Identification office and obtain a new card (65 is the magic age when retirees become eligible for Medicare, and thus require a new form of identification).

So it is important to get one’s retired ID card as soon as possible after the last day of terminal leave has vanished into the night.  Technically, if you don’t, you are violating the law because the Armed Forces Identity Card has a few features that your random state issued ID or driver’s license doesn’t.  For example, it is a “smart card” with a chip inside that can be used to access government computers.  Not that you can really do anything particularly nefarious with such access, but with your transition comes the end of your right to get on government computer systems.  It also contains your official Geneva Convention status in case you are captured by the enemy (although this is particularly unlikely in Southern California, you never know when it might be useful).  In my case, I was Category IV, which meant I was a commissioned officer.  When I was enlisted was a Category III.  I know that because it said so right on my ID card.  Again, not a huge deal, but with my retirement I became uncategorized.  Had the US been invaded on New Year’s Day and I had been captured and the invader checked my ID card then I would have been  thrown in a POW camp instead of being released.  That in and of itself is reason enough to get my new ID.

So off to the Pass and ID office I went.  It seemed to be a straightforward process: go to the office and turn in your active ID for a retired one.  It was straightforward, but in typical fashion it wasn’t so simple.

I showed up and signed in on the clipboard that sat beneath the proclamation “SIGN IN HERE”.  I then sat down in a government issued plastic chair with about a dozen other people who were waiting for new identity cards.  I was halfway through reading the September issue of Consumer Reports (always a good read) when my name was called.

I walked up to the counter.   “Can I help you?” asked the clerk.  “Sure.  I need to turn in my active ID card for a retired one,” I answered as I reached for my wallet.

“OK.  Two forms of ID please.  And your DD-214.”

D’oh.

ID’s I had.  My DD-214 I didn’t.

The DD-214 is the single most important document that a separating serviceman or woman will ever receive.  It is the source document that proves your service; it shows when you entered and when you left active duty as well as the recording your eligibility for VA benefits, healthcare, reenlistment (in case you can’t handle civilian life and want to get back in) and apparently also a retired ID card.

I resigned myself to another trip to the Pass and ID office.  I should have known better, but I didn’t.  The thing about being on active duty is that you tend to take a lot of things for granted; after all, you are in every computer data base imaginable.  All anyone has to do is look at your ID card, input your social security number, and pull your data up.  Unfortunately, once you retire the great big data eraser comes in and purges you from the system, as was the case for me on the first business day after the New Year’s Day weekend:

03 Jan 2012 @ 0243  MOL  LTCOL GRICE, MICHAEL D. was dropped from your unit

With that pithy little message I was erased.  With my erasure rose the importance of the DD-214, because it was an artifact of my service that could not be summarily deleted.  And without it, as I found, things were much more difficult or impossible to accomplish.

So the next day I returned with my two forms of ID and my DD-214.  I was able to finish reading the September issue of Consumer Reports (good thing, too!  I was wondering which bottled water I should be drinking) before I was beckoned back to the counter.  With a cheery smile I turned over my documents, and within a few minutes I had a shiny new retired ID card.  Complete with a cheesy picture of myself that I  would be looking at for the next few decades before I turn 65 and the proclamation of my newly earned RETIRED status.  No POW camp for me!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Your DD-214 is the most important document you will have after you transition.  I recommend that you keep a copy of it with you at all times when you are conducting transition relate business.  Have the administrative shop that completes your transition provide you a few extra copies, and make sure that they are stamped “CERTIFIED TRUE COPY” at the bottom.  That will ensure that you don’t have to make extra trips like I did.

2.  Buy a binder or folio (nifty word for folder that has a zipper on it to hold all the stuff inside) and keep all of your working transition paperwork inside.  That way you can whip out your DD-214 or whatever other document you need at a moment’s notice and avoid going back and forth to get things done.  You will need other documents, too, like your checkout sheet, medical appointment reminders, etc., and having an organized notebook will help a lot.

The Big Day

Posted by Mike Grice on

New Year’s Day is a day for change.  You get to break out a new calendar and do your best to keep those resolutions that you made between glasses of champagne the night before.  For me, January 1st 2012 is particularly important because it marks an incredibly significant day in my life.

New Year’s Day was the day that I became a civilian.  27 years and 21 days after I raised my right hand to swear an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States I found myself back to where I was that December day in 1984.  I officially became a former Marine; “former” because once you become a Marine you are one forever.  There is no such thing as an “ex-Marine”.  Ex-soldier, yes.  Ex-Marine, no.

New Year’s Eve was a party.  It was a celebration with friends that marked the end of a tiring and, for many, a challenging 2011 and the bright beginnings of a new and shiny 2012.  We rang in the New Year with a lot of noise and a lot of champagne – in particular an enormous bottle that was given to me by my great friend Chris to mark my transition.  My headache the following morning indicated that I had indeed made a dent in the reservoir of bubbly that it poured!

Waking up the next morning was a little odd.  I have been a Marine for the better part of three decades, and despite my newly found “Former” Marine status it was striking that I no longer had any official tie to the Corps.  I would be receiving a pension, which is great, but no longer would I be watching the news with the same level of interest in world events as I had been.  The probability that I would find myself in some pestilential third world hotspot suddenly became zero, and the odds that I would have to leave my family for months on end for a deployment disappeared.  I was now back in the society that I had served for so long, with all of the benefits that make it the greatest nation on the planet.

It is a little like being that 17 year old kid who enlisted while still in high school.  I have the rest of my life in front of me, and I have the opportunity to choose what comes next.  It is almost like being given another whole new life; I can do anything I want.  Except maybe professional sports.  I’ll cede that option to the practical realities of starting life over at the age of 44!

I leave my military career with a wall full of plaques and a mind full of memories.  Being a career Marine was the best career that I could have pursued because it took me places that I would otherwise have never seen and challenged me to levels that exist only in the most dire of circumstances.  I have made lifelong friends and learned more about life than I thought possible at the ripe old age of 17 when I signed up.

So it is with a certain level of eagerness that I look forward to the next great adventure.  I am not certain where the road ahead will lead me, but I am excited to take the first steps in a pair of tennis shoes.  Like me, my combat boots are retired from active service.  Time to try something new…

Final (?) Physical Exam. Or is it? Part 3

Posted by Mike Grice on

When I left you last, constant reader, I was headed out of the Regimental Aid Station and into the adventure that was my final physical.  Despite the fact that my naive impression that I could knock it out in a single doctor’s visit was crushed by the freight train of medical reality, my ignorance was remedied and I had a plan (and another checklist) to knock it out.   The good Navy corpsmen and regimental surgeon had educated me and set me up for success, and it was my responsibility to follow their lead.  So off I went- first stop: Camp Pendleton’s Naval Hospital.

I had several appointments at the hospital, which makes sense because hospitals is where most medical providers hang out.  I also had a few non appointments to make; a non appointment being a stop at a walk-in clinic.  Appointments are good because you are inked into the doctor’s schedule, and as long as you show up on time you will be taken care of.  It may take a while, but you’ll be seen.  Non appointments, on the other hand, are much like Forrest Gump’s apocryphal box of chocolates: you never knew what you were gonna get.  Maybe an empty clinic with bored providers eager to break the doldrums of a lazy afternoon by bringing you in for a checkup.  Maybe a stuffy waiting room packed with dozens of exasperated people who were just like me with no choice but to wait.  And wait.  And wait.

My plan was to hit the appointments (arrive fifteen minutes early!) and stop in the various clinics between the scheduled stops.  My first appointment of the day was with orthopedics, so I headed over to get my knees, feet, and ankle checked out.  One of the interesting things about being a Marine is that you tend to use such things as knees, feet, and ankles a lot, and as a result they tend to get broken, sprained, and worn out along the way.  In my case, almost three decades of tromping around coupled with four tours in combat zones had taken their toll.  So I signed into ortho, found a seat in the waiting room, and waited.  After a few minutes (and within ten minutes or so of my scheduled appointment) my name was called.  The very nice doctor (a Naval officer) sat me down in the examination room and looked over her notes.  After exchanging some pleasantries, she got down to business.

The importance of the visit was not to find anything new, but instead to ensure that all facets of my previously treated conditions were properly annotated.  After reviewing my case, she brought everything up to date and assured me that everything would be properly recorded in my record.  She had treated my ankle and feet, but not my knees.  That was at another clinic- and she couldn’t re-evaluate what she hadn’t evaluated in the first place.  D’oh- another appointment on the calendar!

After she was done she directed me to the registrar who was in charge of records.  The registrar could make me an appointment with the clinician who had seen me for my knees over the years.  Ok, thought I.  Easy enough.

Wrong again.

The registrar, a civilian who had been doing the job for a looooooooooooooooong time, asked if she could help.  I explained that I had been treated for a knee injury and needed to make a final followup appointment.  She turned to her computer and with a few efficient but furious keystrokes she looked at me and said that she had no record of my treatment.

No record?  Huh?

I recounted my trips to the sports medicine clinic and the treatment that I had received.

“Ah,” she said, “that is Sports Med, not Ortho.  You have to talk to them.”  “Not ortho?” I meekly asked.  “No!” was her emphatic response.  Needless to say, after I left the registrars office I stepped outside to call sports medicine to make an appointment.  Fortunately they had one available, but unfortunately it was over a month from now.  Good thing I had a little time between now and my EAS!

I then headed off to various other appointments, the particulars of which I won’t subject you to.  What was of note, however, was the kindness and flexibility that many of the walk-in providers exhibited when I attempted to squeeze in and get a signature on my medical checkout sheet.  Some were more receptive than others, and fortunately I had picked a slow day at the hospital.  There were few full waiting rooms, so I was able to see the right practitioners and  garner the necessary signatures without too much hassle.  My hat is off to the audiology department in particular, though, because I showed up outside their posted walk-in hours.  The petty officer behind the desk looked up when I poked my head in the door, and asked if he could help me.  I had hurried up to the clinic after my previous appointment but arrived in his lunch hour.  He took pity on me, and beckoned me into the office.  Whew, I thought.  Great!

What I didn’t realize was that his wife and young child were waiting to go to lunch with him.  Once I saw them, I apologized and turned to leave.  “No problem, sir!  I’ll catch up with them.  It won’t take but a minute.”  His lovely wife and toddler headed out to the car and the good Sailor took care of me.  I felt like a complete jerk, but his professionalism and dedication to his duties were such that he could not in good conscience turn away a patient- even one as inconsiderate and boneheaded as me for intruding on his lunch hour.  At any rate, less than ten minutes later I had completed my audiogram (the hearing test where they put you in a booth with earphones on and you push a little button when you hear high and low pitched tones).  With the efficiency and politeness of a true professional he explained the results of the test, signed my checklist, and headed to lunch.  I apologized again, but he told me not to worry about it because taking care of patients was his job, and lunch could wait.  Man, did I feel like a total heel.

So, after spending a few days over the period of a few months I was able to knock out my final physical.   Along the way I got to meet a lot of interesting people who all shared a common trait: each and every one was a dedicated professional, but in true Navy fashion, were unique in their own way.  A young surfer dude corpsman talked about the beach as he drew seven vials of blood for labwork (“this’ll sting a little, dude, I mean sir…”), and a very pleasant young lady with bright red fingernail polish and a blinged out iPhone that contrasted her uniform took my x-rays.  Another sailor talked about his upcoming vacation plans as he removed some stitches from my arm, mixing his anticipation of mom’s home cooking with the possibility of permanent scarring on my arm if I wasn’t careful with my newly-healed incision.  They were all great Americans, and they took care of me.  And, more importantly, they signed my medical checklist, which allowed me to finish my final checkout from the Marine Corps.

My hat’s off to them.  Thanks, Navy!

__________

Lessons learned:

1.  Make as many appointments as you can as early as you can.  It is important that you review your recent medical history (say over the last five years or so) and personally contact each clinic or provider in order to get on their schedule.  I assumed that all of my appointments were set by the medical staff at the regimental aid station, but I was wrong.  It wasn’t their fault- they didn’t know for example that my knees had been treated at sports med instead of ortho, but as a result I had to wait almost an additional month for my sports med appointment because I didn’t personally make the call.

2.  Don’t be a jerk like I was- only go to walk-in clinics during their appointed hours.  The providers will forego lunch with their family or stay at work late to make up the time they lost while taking care of you out of their professionalism and sense of duty.  The best thing to do is not to put them in the position by showing up during their posted hours.

3.  Be flexible.  If you think that your physical will go with anything close to military precision you are wrong.  I had to sit in waiting rooms for a long time to get all of the checks in the box, and you will too.  I recommend making one appointment first thing in the morning and one right after lunch- if you are the first on the list then you will be seen promptly.  If not, you run the risk of waiting because other consultations went long.  This will also allow you to hit the walk-in clinics after you get done with plenty of time before your next stop.  Don’t schedule more than one appointment in the same morning or afternoon or you will find yourself sprinting between floors in order to make it on time like I did.  Save yourself the hassle and space them out.

4.  Go with the system.  Parts of it will make no sense, like my ortho/sports med confusion.  It is what it is, and when the lady at ortho says you have to go to sports med, then save your breath and go to sports med.  It may not make sense to you, but it is what it is.  They aren’t likely modify their decades old records and appointment database just because you don’t like it.  Trust me.

Final (?) Physical Exam. Or is it? Part 2.

Posted by Mike Grice on

A little while ago I wrote about the importance of lists.  Rather naively I thought that I was pretty much done with them as I approached the completion of my checkout sheet.  As usual, I was wrong.

The mighty checkout sheet, about which I wrote several posts, is the administrative key to the other side of transition.  To my dismay, however, I found that the checkout sheet alone wasn’t mighty enough to set me free.  That required that I complete my final physical examination, and just like everything else involved with transition there was so much more to it than meets the eye.

My last post about the final physical left us at the Regimental Surgeon’s office, where I learned about the complexities of the mother of all physical exams: the vaunted Final Physical.  It is the mother of all examinations because it is no simple or cursory survey, but instead an inexorably thorough inquisition of one’s bodily health and mental condition that left nothing uninspected.

It is for good reason, as I learned from the good surgeon.  My final physical serves as the last chance for me, the soon to be departed from the Marine Corps, to avail myself of military medicine and fix those things that had heretofore been unfixed or ignored in typical macho tough-guy fashion.  While the thought of military medicine may make the reader shudder, it really isn’t bad- in fact it is very good, because military health care providers are well resourced and have had a lot of real world practice over the last decade of war.  The perceived problem with it stems from poor management and care several decades ago- problems that have long been corrected.  The point to the physical was to get me into the best shape possible  before showing me the door, whereupon the Veteran’s Administration would take up the responsibility for my health and wellbeing.  I will write more about the VA later, but suffice it to say that the surgeon’s description of the process made me a believer in the process.

“It’s up to you, sir,” he said, “but you’d be foolish not to take advantage of everything you can.  It’s free, and you have the time to take care of anything that may crop up.”

A wise man, that surgeon.

“You would be smart to contact every [health care] provider that you have seen in the last few years.  They will re-evaluate your condition and record it in your health records.  That will help you in the long run, especially with your disability claim,” he continued.

Disability claim?

Visions of walking canes, wheelchairs, and blue parking spaces rocketed through my head.

He saw my look of horror and chuckled.

“You’ve been in for a long time,” he said as he flipped through my medical record, “your knees are bad, your ankle is bad, your feet are a mess….”  He trailed off as he continued to review my case.  “You are going to be rated with some disabilities, and it is important that the ratings are done correctly.  Don’t worry about it.  It’s a rough life being a Marine, and you are going to be evaluated to make sure that you are taken care of.  Here’s my number.  If you have any problems, have them give me a call.”

As Indiana Jones said to Marion in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”:  It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage.

With a firm handshake, I left his office with my records in one hand and a newly printed checklist in the other.

The checklist was very thorough.  It ranged from lab work (shots anyone?  A vial or two or seven of blood for testing?) to audiograms for my artillery-assaulted ears (What? What did you say?) to an EKG to make sure my ticker still ticked and a chest x-ray to look at my ribs or something else that is equally important.  How was I going to get any of this stuff taken care of?

In true Navy fashion, I had not walked ten feet before a motivated and professional Petty Officer took pity on me and beckoned me to the counter.  “Hi, sir!  Lemme see that,” he said as he pointed to my checklist, “we’ll get you squared away.”

And he did.  With the dexterity of the queen of the typing pool and the suavity of a Tiffany Jewelry salesman he typed, called, cajoled, and printed appointment after appointment for me.  Within ten minutes he had teed up meetings with specialists and medical providers across the base.  Not only did he hit the basic requirements, but also those specialty clinics and providers that I had seen over the last few years- orthopedics for my feet, physical therapy for my knees, optical for my eyes, audiology for my ears….and so on.  With a smile and a cheery “here you go, sir!” he handed me a sheaf of appointment reminders and turned back to his duties.

That’s why Navy medicine is great- they really bent over backwards to make sure I was taken care of.  I have never seen anything like that at a civilian HMO, that’s for sure!  I looked over the appointment reminders and was surprised at just how long it was going to take to knock this final physical out- all told it was going to take over three months to hit all of my appointments.  Three months!  Yikes.  Navy medicine may be helpful, but it isn’t particularly speedy I guess- especially for those of us getting our outprocessing physicals.  Oh well.  Fortunately I had the time.

So, with a feeling of great relief (and a little trepidation, to be sure!) I walked out of the Regimental Aid Station and set out on the journey that would be my final physical.

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Start EARLY.  I began my outprocessing physical about four months before I went on terminal leave with the naive expectation that it would be a quick and easy thing to do.  Not so much!

2.  Plan ahead.  Take the time to write a list of all the things that are bothering you or that you have been treated for over the past few years.  Most Marines just “suck it up” and refuse to show weakness by getting medical care, which is good when the Taliban are chucking hand grenades at you but not so good when you are about to get out.  If you do not have your problems recorded in your record then they do not exist.  Simple as that.  And if they do not exist, they cannot be evaluated for disability purposes or for future care in case they get worse.  And they always get worse….

3.  Go into your initial final physical appointment with your notes and with your complete medical record.  You will get out of it what you put into it.  If you blow it off then you will get a rubber stamp with nothing behind it, and possibly lose out on medical benefits or monetary compensation in the future.  The time to be the big tough Marine ends at the hatch to the aid station!

4.  Take notes as you go.  This is important, because you will ultimately have a second set of physicals with the Veteran’s Administration to determine your disability rating.  If you forget what the doctors tell you during their examination you can’t pass that information to the VA, which will weaken your claim for benefits.

Closure

Posted by Mike Grice on

Closure can mean a lot of things depending on your circumstance, but it mostly means the end of a relationship.  For me, I had a date with closure at about one o’clock in the morning this past Saturday.  That was when over a hundred of my closest friends came home from Afghanistan, and I was able to be standing in the parking lot as they got off the buses and reunited with their families and friends.  It is one of the rarest things in existence: a timeless moment of pure and unadulterated joy.

It was tremendously emotional as these post-deployment reunions always are.  Fathers met their infant children for the first time.  Lovers embraced after hundreds of days apart and children jumped up and down in exuberant delight as the first sight of their father.  Parents and grandparents hugged their sons and grandsons, thinking of the little boys within who grew up to be the Marines and Sailors who traded their boyhood clothes for the cloth of the nation.  Mothers wiped eyes grown damp with joy.  Hundreds of faces lit up in the darkness of that cold morning with delight in that moment; the blissful radiance of pure happiness erased the months of separation, the sleepless nights, and the loneliness that only those separated by wartime can understand.

The jocundity engulfed everyone there, and for me it held an even more special meaning.  As I wrote a few paragraphs back, the chilly morning held for me the last bit of closure that I needed before truly closing the door on my military career.

It was closure because not long ago the busloads of Marines and Sailors who returned from combat had all been under my charge and their training and preparation for their trip to fight the Taliban was my responsibility.  I had been their Commanding Officer for the two years or so leading up to their deployment, and had led them in Afghanistan the year before.  Although the leaders of the unit worked together to make sure that every Marine and Sailor was ready to fight, it was my duty as the CO to ensure that they were ready.  It was also my burden each and every day that they were in harm’s way: even though I was no longer a member of the command, their ability to fight and their readiness to survive the rigors of combat was my final duty.

We had trained together, and we trained hard.  From the bleak and blistering Mojave desert to the the windy plains of Oklahoma to the frigid tip of northern Scotland we had run through the gamut of challenges that prepare a man to fight.  We ran countless miles and hiked under staggering loads.  We practiced airstrikes, artillery fire missions, and hand to hand combat.  We planned and executed missions aboard attack helicopters and prepared to put tourniquets on shattered limbs.  Month after month of aggressive training made the unit keenly ready to fight, and three weeks before they left I handed the mantle of command to my successor.

It wasn’t because of anything more than my time in command was up.  My successor, appointed as I was by the Commandant of the Marine Corps, eagerly took hold of the reins of command with a level of enthusiasm that countered my reticence to hand them over.  All good things come to an end, and in my case it was the demise of the best job that I had ever been fortunate to have.

The change of command and my subsequent transition did not bring my emotional tie to the unit to an end, however.  The seven months that they were in combat were seven long months for me as I checked the news every day to see what was going on in Afghanistan, read casualty lists hoping not to see a familiar name, and listened in on conversations to hear how thing were going “in Theater”.

This past Saturday morning untied the knot that had been lying in the pit of my gut since they left in the summertime.  Although not everyone made it to the reunion in the parking lot, they all came home alive- and with their return my duty was complete.  For each Marine and Sailor and for every father, mother, wife, child, and friend their home brought closure to their absence.  As for me, it brought an immense feeling of satisfaction, relief, and closure too- closure for the time I was honored to stand with them as their leader and closure for my career as well.

Saturday, December 10th marked the end of 1st Air Naval Gunfire Liaison Company’s deployment.  December 10th is particularly significant for me personally as well because 27 years before on that very day I enlisted in the Marine Corps.  I had no inkling on 10 December 1984 that I would be standing on a cold parking lot watching such a joyous reunion exactly 27 years later, but I am glad that I was there.  It brought me something priceless: a satisfying sense of closure to my life as a Marine.