Why I write

Posted by Mike Grice on December 9, 2011

Today’s post is a little different. It really doesn’t have much to do with transition but rather with something else, namely why I write. Writing has become a significant part of my life even though I never really intended it to become so important. Oddly, I have found writing to be a metaphor of sorts for life in general and it has become interwoven with my shift from one life to another, so I take it back. This post is about transition after all.

I am often asked why I write. It is a good question, because I had never really considered myself to be a “writer”. Instead, I considered writing as an adjunct to whatever I happen to be doing; writing efficiency reports on subordinates, preparing awards to recognize the deserving, or as a necessary evil that is part and parcel of staff work. Writing was part of being an officer of Marines.

All officers, by their very status, are required to write. The Marine Corps’ system of performance evaluation centers around the concept that officers write reports about their subordinates, with those reports requiring a concise articulation of what is expected of them as well as how they perform. The rules for writing such reports are stringent in an effort to limit excessive hyperbole or damnation by faint praise. It is a pretty good system, which a decade ago replaced a longstanding Fitness Reporting scheme that had become hopelessly inflated and largely useless.

A key component of writing reports and awards and such is the ability to do the simple things that my elementary school-aged kids are learning now; things like grammar, spelling, and format. As a junior officer I never really paid much attention to my writing; it was a necessary evil and part of my profession. I did the best I could to produce something good enough to get the job done and survive the red-penned review of the XO (the unit’s second in command — usually a crotchety senior officer with a perennially bad attitude whose sole joy in life is torturing young officers who would rather guess at the spelling of an arcane word than actually consult a dictionary).

After many pointed and painful one sided conversations in which the XO pithily acquainted me with spell check and a thesaurus I learned to write reasonably well. Good thing, too, because I wrote a lot. Between the administration of leadership (fitness reports, or “fitreps”, awards, formal counseling statements and the like) and the military orders compiled for training exercises I often wondered if I had joined the Marine Corps or a typing pool. I produced reams of paper with which I suppose I could bury the enemy if I met him in battle, and if it came to hand-to-hand combat I could inflict the agonizing death of a thousand paper cuts. Maybe I could drown him in printer ink or blind him with a cloud of toner? Dunno.

Anyhow, I learned to write. Over time I learned the importance of good writing and the impact it can have on a Marine’s career. A well written evaluation may well mean a promotion for a subordinate, and a poorly scribed eval may likewise cost him or her a chance at advancement. Better writing also meant less work in the long run as quality documents require a lot less editing and painful revision at the behest of the angry XO.

So I became pretty good at the administrivia of the Marine Corps; my fitreps and awards would stack up with the best of them. It wasn’t until I attended Amphibious Warfare School (“AWS”-a year long Marine Professional Military Education school) that I was introduced to writing beyond the requirements of my job.

As a student in AWS we were required, among other things, to write. Not just operational orders, but essays and research papers as well. It was in many ways like being back in college, except that we occasionally got to go the field and blow things up. We became ardent students of our craft, and a big part of our studies was to write about it.

My Faculty Advisor (the den daddy for a dozen or so of us know-it-all captains) was then Major Bryan P. McCoy, who was one of the most professional and knowledgeable officers I have ever known. He was a taskmaster and accepted nothing that wasn’t done to the fullest extent, and that included the papers that we wrote. He was a good writer to boot, and he mentored us all on how to become better. By the end of the year we had written and submitted countless revisions of numerous papers, and with each transaction I learned more and more about writing. By the end of the school year I had produced a half-dozen or so academic writings, and to my surprise Major McCoy and other members of the school staff recommended that I try to get a few of them published in our professional military journals.

That was pretty heady stuff! I was (and still am) an avid reader of military periodicals such as the Marine Corps Gazette and the Naval Institute’s Proceedings, but I always considered those articles to be written by intellectuals who lived in an ivory tower who were somehow anointed with the privilege of publication. How wrong I was. I submitted an article about logistics to the Gazette and another about the organization of the Marine Corps to Proceedings. Lo and behold — a month or so later I received letters from both journals accepting my submissions for publication. I couldn’t believe it! A few months later my first article appeared, and with the first sight of my name in the byline I became a writer. (I also became more acquainted with the process that is publication, as one of those first articles was accepted for publication but never actually went to press.)

Fast forward over a decade and I have been published in a half dozen magazines and journals and even churned out a book. I found that I enjoy writing, and it has become a part of my life. What began as a part of my job has fully transcended my occupation to become not just a hobby that I enjoy doing but also a big part of my life. I find myself pondering work and life and family and then writing about it. The best part is that I enjoy writing immensely, and the fact that so many people read what I have written is very rewarding.

So that’s why I write. It helps to have something to say, and fortunately I do. Thanks for reading!

Trading tradition for a tuxedo

Posted by Mike Grice on November 16, 2011

Gentlemen’s Quarterly, the unequalled guide to fashion, suavity, and panache unabashedly states that every man must own a tuxedo. I have had the great fortune to be able to ignore that bit of fashion guidance for decades because of the most dashing collection of uniforms that fill my closet. I am haberdashed to the fullest when it comes to uniforms for every occasion; I can emerge from my dressing room ready equipped for firefight or prepared for a black tie formal. Unfortunately, the spectrum of uniforms don’t transition to the civilian world, and the flexibility of a closet filled with every conceivable martial fashion choice exists only as long as you continue on active service.

I had not really thought much about it, other than to rummage through at my uniforms in search of the civilian clothes that hung amongst them as I get dressed each morning. That is, until November rolled around.

November is a big month for servicemen and servicewomen because it is the month of Veterans Day. The crisp height of autumn finds proud old soldiers marching side by side with their younger counterparts in parades that mark the service of those who have worn the cloth of the nation, and it is the time for all of us to promise to never forget the sacrifice that they have made to ensure our country remains the best on Earth.

For Marines, however, November holds an even greater meaning. November is the month of the birth of our Corps, and each and every Marine who has ever served can tell you what our birthday is. November 10th, 1775 is the date of the founding of the United States Marine Corps, and every year since Marines have celebrated that momentous and distinguished day.

It is a day replete with elegant ceremony, pomp, and circumstance. Marines everywhere, regardless of clime, place, or situation will stop what they are doing and throw a birthday party. They range from white tie formals that rival the cotillions of nineteenth century France to a couple of tired Marines sharing an MRE dessert in a muddy fighting hole between firefights. Whatever the situation, Marines will gather together and perform a simple ceremony to mark the day that we all grow a year older. In this case, the Marine Corps turns a youthfully venerable 236.

Formal events are quite elaborate. They usually start with “preflighting”, which is when Marines and their guests gather before cocktail hour to get a head start on the evening. Preflighting usually goes in someone’s hotel suite, and there you will find a few coolers filled with beer and counters laden with cocktail fixings. After having a cold one or two, it is time to head for the cocktail hour that preceeds the event- time for another drink (for all of the teetotalers out there who are aghast at the thought of drinking before the cocktail hour starts, well, get over it. Marines are known for doing many things well, and drinking is one of them!) There is nothing quite as wonderful as sharing an evening with the ones that you love and the ones you will lay your life down for. It is a truly transcendent experience.

Cocktail hour ends with a bugle call that invites everyone to their tables. Moments later the ceremony begins, and every Marine’s heart quickens to the tap of a drum and the brassy keening of the band. Two at a time an escort of Marines marches onto the scene armed with swords and and a steely gaze, smartly coming to a stop in two facing rows that frame the setting for the ceremony. They are followed by the Guest of Honor and Commanding Officer of the unit hosting the celebration who march to their places at the head of the evening’s parade ground. The nation’s colors, reverently carried by by a guard of Marines, are solemly presented with every pair of eyes in the house is riveted on Old Glory as the national anthem is played.

Following the posting of the colors (which is when the flag is placed in its ceremonial position) a cake is brought forth, escorted by Marines dressed in their distinctive (and unmatched!) dress uniforms. The ceremonial Adjutant draws forth a scroll on which is scribed a directive from General John. A. Lejeune, a legendary commandant of our Corps whose service predates ours by a century or so. Without aid of something as tawdry as a microphone, the Adjutant booms the venerated message out for all to hear:

“On November 10, 1775, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of Continental Congress. Since that date many thousand men have borne the name “Marine”. In memory of them it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the birthday of our corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history.

The record of our corps is one which will bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world’s history. During 90 of the 146 years of its existence the Marine Corps has been in action against the Nation’s foes. From the Battle of Trenton to the Argonne, Marines have won foremost honors in war, and in the long eras of tranquility at home, generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres and in every corner of the seven seas, that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security.

In every battle and skirmish since the birth of our corps, Marines have acquitted themselves with the greatest distinction, winning new honors on each occasion until the term “Marine” has come to signify all that is highest in military efficiency and soldierly virtue.

This high name of distinction and soldierly repute we who are Marines today have received from those who preceded us in the corps. With it we have also received from them the eternal spirit which has animated our corps from generation to generation and has been the distinguishing mark of the Marines in every age. So long as that spirit continues to flourish Marines will be found equal to every emergency in the future as they have been in the past, and the men of our Nation will regard us as worthy successors to the long line of illustrious men who have served as “Soldiers of the Sea” since the founding of the Corps.

JOHN A. LEJEUNE,

Major General Commandant”

The honoring of tradition does not end there. With a flourish borne of tradition and practice, the Adjutant proffers his or her sword to cut the cake. Two slices are produced, and are presented by the Commanding Officer to the Guest of Honor for the evening, and then the second piece is respectfully conferred to the oldest Marine present. In a tasty Marine Crops tradition the oldest Marine then passes the piece of cake to the youngest Marine (having left at least one bite, and with a new fork), who then takes a bite- symbolizing the passing of tradition from the old guard to the new. The birthdates of the oldest are read out as they sample their piece of cake, with the oldest receiving the muted respect that such long service commands and the youngest receiving the howling laughter and applause that accompanies the honor of being younger than the children of many Marines present. The sage meets the prelate, and they share a piece of most excellent cake. Not at all a bad tradition!

With the returning of the plates and cutlery the sequence is reversed. The cake is marched away to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, followed by the color guard after paying respects again to our nation’s flag. The guest of honor and commanding officer follow the flag off of the ceremonial floor, closely accompanied by pairs of escorts. With a rousing rendition of Anchor’s Aweigh (to honor our naval tradition) and the Marine’s Hymn (to honor all Marines and the birth of our Corps) the ceremony draws to a close. All that remains are remarks from the current Commandant of the Marine Corps, the hosting commanding officer, and the guest of honor which are traditionally presented just before dinner is served.

The best remarks are those that are meaningful, thoughtful, endearing, and brief. Having been to countless balls during my 27 years in uniform I have felt the thrill of excitement that a great and motivating speaker brings to the ceremony as well as the mind numbing drudgery inflicted by those who even with the best of intentions drone ceaselessly on. And on. And on. (The longest in my experience approached the hour and a half mark before departing the podium and allowing us dive into our wilted salads.)

Once the remarks are completed and the guest of honor is presented with a token of appreciation for his or her words of motivation and wisdom the formal ceremony is complete. Marines and guests cheerfully turn to those who share their table and break bread together in a respectful and joyful atmosphere more reminiscent of a wedding than a military event. After dessert (which of course includes the birthday cake!) the bars reopen and the ceremonial parade ground becomes a dance floor, on which the metaphorical rug is cut to shreds in the hours that follow. It is a birthday party, wedding, prom, and Sadie Hawkins dance all rolled into one, Marine Corps Style- and it is the best party you will likely every attend! Just ask Justin Timberlake.

So that brings us back to my personal predicament. November arrived after Halloween just as it always does, and with the approaching 236th birthday of the Marine Corps I was placed on the horns of a dilemma. What ever would I wear? It was a conundrum that I had not faced since high school! Fashion choices…suits or tuxedo? Haircut and uniform (which I could still do)?

The decision was further confounded by circumstance as I was honored to find myself invited to attend the 11th Marine Regiment’s Headquarters Battery Ball as the guest of honor. Yikes! I thought back to all of the balls that I had attended what they meant. I had squired lovely ladies and escorted my bride in my Dress Blue and Evening Dress uniforms, and had broken chunks of ration cake with my fellow Marines in the field and on the decks of amphibious ships. Those birthdays all shared one central theme in my life- that the day of celebration was a mile marker on the autobahn of my career. This ball, however, fell as I left the highway and steered to the offramp, and somehow it didn’t seem right to wear my uniform.

So I followed the advice of Gentlemen’s Quarterly and purchased the evening clothes that I would wear that night, and indeed for every November 10th until they box me up and bury me somewhere at the end of my days. So on this, my 27th consecutive celebration of the birth of the Marine Corps, I trade in the tradition of wearing the cloth of the nation for a new set of clothes. As I depart the ranks serving Marines I join the citizenry of the nation I have defended for so long, and it seems somehow fitting to wear a Tuxedo to mark the occasion.

After all, you can’t wear your uniform forever and everybody likes a sharply dressed man!

Checking Out (2): Hello, Checkout sheet!

Posted by Mike Grice on November 2, 2011

Back to work. Well, back to leaving work for the last time, or at least back to trying to leave work for the last time- and the emphasis is on trying.

Leaving a job in the civilian world is a significantly different experience than leaving military service. Generally on the outside you can leave your job in one of two manners: happily or unhappily. The happy way of leaving is with an office party with a nicely decorated cake, some kind words, and a thoughtful (but not too expensive) gift from your cubemates to speed you on your way. The unhappy way is finding yourself wedged between two security guards as they hustle you and the dented cardboard box that contains your precious office belongings out the door. In either circumstance you generally get to leave the company with a minimum of fuss and hassle- and it all happens in one day.

Not so fast or easy in the military world. Following the vaunted tradition of making simple things very difficult every departing Marine must run a perplexing gauntlet of clerks, administrators, and senior leaders on his or her way out of the unit. He or she must obtain the mark of consent from a dozen or two different entities before the byzantine process of checking out is complete- marks that range from elaborate signatures that would make a calligrapher swoon to stark and brazen ink from a much-coveted rubber stamp; coveted because without the mark of the stamper you will remain forever in the purgatorial no man’s land inhabited by the lost souls who could not obtain the vital mark on the most important of all documents to the so0n-to-be departing: the checkout sheet.

I have alluded to this most glorious and momentous document in a recent post. It is indeed a glorious bit of vellum because, much like Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow’s map, it holds the key to that which you most strongly desire: your departure. Like a treasure map it divulges the often hidden location of important places that otherwise would remain forever hidden, or at least forever ignored because the only time you really need to go there is when you are checking in or checking out. The vaunted checkout sheet is so crucially important because it is the one and only key to receiving your final orders to the outside- without completing it you can be stuck on hold and denied the ability to leave despite your desire to grow your hair and rediscover the joys of sleeping in during the week.

The checkout sheet is usually provided by the administrative section of the unit you are checking out of. The purpose that it serves is to make sure that you hit all of the wickets on the way out the door- important wickets like turning in thousands of dollars worth of military equipment as well as completing critical paperwork that ensures that you receive the benefits and entitlements that you have earned during your service. So, in and of itself, the checkout sheet is actually a good thing because it ensures that you do everything you are supposed to do before you hit the road. Unfortunately, just because the checkout sheet is important to you that doesn’t mean it is particularly important to anybody else, which is a painful lesson to come to grips with. Your eagerness and urgency to get it completed has little to do with the desire of others to assist you in getting it done, so a word of warning the soon to be departing- make sure you allot ample time to knock it out. A smart guy once told my that a crisis on my part did not correlate to a crisis on his, and that must because I was in a hurry didn’t mean that he was. Important and accurate advice, as we shall see…

What does a checkout sheet look like? It is invariably similar across the spectrum of units and services. It is a sheet of paper that lists all of the agencies, offices, and people that you need to visit in order to depart your unit. More importantly, it has a place for each of them to make their mark- eminently important, because without the proper notation by the functionary behind the counter your visit will be in vain. For those with nimble fingers and an eager pen beware! Don’t think that just forging a random set of initials will let you slide by- that has been tried by many who have gone before you and as a result most places have acquired nifty and unique little rubber stamps (and variously colored ink pads) that must be used on your checkout sheet for it to be deemed authentic. Forge at your own peril, because to be caught will get you in big trouble and result in a trip to purgatory as your transgression is sorted out.

Here is a link to what my own checkout sheet looks like: Checkoutsheet

As you can see it is a colorful document- at least it is now that it is completed. I obtained my checkout sheet from the administrative section of my unit, in this case 1 Marine Expeditionary Force Headquarters Group (try saying that three times fast!) located aboard Camp Pendleton, California. To get your mitts on a checkout sheet you have to be able to show the nineteen year old administrative clerk that you are indeed departing soon, which is actually pretty easy. The major muscle movements of personnel administration are done over a centralized computer system, and since my retirement request had been approved the young Marine only had to check the system to confirm my not-so-imminent departure. He reached behind the counter and pulled out a single piece of paper, and with the efficiency borne of experience he whipped a yellow highlighter over numerous lines of text. “These are the places you need to hit, sir,” he explained, “take it to IPAC (the Installation Personnel Administrative Center- where my friend the retirement counselor works) and they will cut you your final set of orders.” With a cheerful “thanks, and see you around!” to the clerk I left the admin shop with a virginal sheet, ready to be filled with the scribblings and stamps of those who stood between me and my final day on base.

The sheet itself is an innocuous looking bit of poorly Xeroxed paper. It is a copy of a copy that was a copy of a copy, and as a result is a bit faded and tough to read. I filled out my administrative information at the top, stuff like my name, rank, and section (HQ for headquarters, in case anyone didn’t know that) and headed out to get as many signatures and stamps as I could in the shortest time possible.

As usual, it wasn’t that simple. It never is. More on that soon…

Completing the arc

Posted by Mike Grice on October 1, 2011

Stories have arcs. Good stories do, anyway. Looking at my career as a story, it certainly seems to fits the mold.

The arc started when I was in high school. I really wanted to join the military, and after watching every war movie ever made and talking to recruiter after recruiter, I made my decision and committed to the Marine Corps. At the ripe old age of 17 (and with my mother signing the consent form!) I raised my right hand and swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States, and with that pledge I began my new life.

I didn’t immediately ship out for bootcamp, however. I was still in my senior year of high school, so I spent six months or so in the Delayed Entry Program, which meant that I had signed on the dotted line and was waiting until graduation for my very first set of orders sending me off to recruit training. The arc started with me raising my hand, and was very slowly rising in anticipation of the big day when I would be introduced to my newest and bestest friends in the world- my Drill Instructors.

Time passed and the big day arrived. It was June 24th, 1985, and my recruiter picked me up for my ride to the airport. It was early and dark that Monday morning, and I was trepidatious, to say the least. With a lump in my throat, I hugged my mom goodbye and headed off in pursuit of my destiny, I suppose, or at least for a shot at seeing if I had what it took to become a United States Marine.

After a plane ride to San Diego and a bus ride to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot I learned that I had made the biggest mistake of my life, or so it seemed at the time. My first indication that things were changing was watching the gate guards spit on the bus when we entered the base- not an omen of happy times ahead. I won’t bore you with the details, but the next 13 weeks or so weren’t much better. I did graduate that September (0n Friday the 13th, no less), so the arc of my story rose like a rocket- I was on my way!

I went to my Military Occupation Specialty school (if you are curious, I was an 0844 Field Artillery Fire Controlman, which means I was the guy who calculated the information that was used by cannoneers to point their guns and hit targets miles away- pretty interesting stuff, especially considering that back then because we used paper charts and sliderules to compute the firing data) and upon graduation joined my reserve unit. I was there for a long time as I worked my way through college. Ultimately, I decided that I liked this Marine Corps thing and raised my right hand again- this time to commit myself to the arduous and rigorous opportunity presented by Officer Candidate School.

In a serious case of deja vu a different recruiter picked me up before different dawn, and I was just as nervous as I had been riding the airport years earlier. After a very familiar plane ride and introduction to a new set of newest and bestest friends I found myself on the miserable hamster wheel that is Officer Candidate School. I again wondered what I had gotten myself into and wondered just how I could get out of it. Fortunately, I knuckled down and endured along with my fellow candidates. It wasn’t any fun! It was much more difficult than recruit training, but that is OK. It should be, because as Thucydides, the revered ancient Greek scholar observed, “he who graduates the harshest school, succeeds.” If pain and exhaustion are metrics of the severity of the school, then I was indeed successful! A bit more gaunt and a lot more physically fit after an incredible ten week long experience I graduated and traded my Staff Sergeant’s chevrons for the gold bars of a second lieutenant. Very exciting!

My arc continued to rise as I had the time of my life. Leading Marines, learning about my profession (I chose to become an Artillery Officer because I liked my time as an enlisted gunner so much), and seeing the world was a fantastic and wonderful experience. There were parts that were miserable, but they were far outweighed by the sheer joy of the dynamic and exciting career that I was fortunate to pursue.

That arc continued to rise through peacetime deployments all over the country and overseas, fighting in a couple of wars, divorcing, remarrying, having kids, leading Marines, and commanding numerous units and organizations. I had joined a true brotherhood of like minded souls who were all headed in the same direction, with the same goals, aspirations, ideals, and frames of mind. Despite a few very bad days, my arc rose higher and higher as I pursued the career that I truly loved.

As I have written before, however, all good (and great!) things come to an end. After nearly three decades in uniform it became time to leave. My arc, which had been rising steadily higher and higher plummeted like the proverbial man in the barrel trying his luck over Niagara falls. My arc doesn’t look like nice symmetric bell curve, but instead is more like the first part of a rollercoaster- moving up slowly, then more steeply, then reaching a precipice before plummeting back down to where it started.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining because it was my choice to change the vector of my arc. The ride down from the peak was disconcerting, but I have learned that life is a lot more like a rollercoaster than I had thought. My ride down the coaster did not end in a disastrous crash of smashed cars, but instead rocketed in a new direction and is now set to rise up a completely new, exciting, and different arc. It hasn’t quite started yet because just I spent months waiting to ship out to recruit training after signing my contract I now have some time after my last day at work as a Marine before my terminal leave expires, which is when I will fully rejoin the world I came from. As a wise man once said about transition, the next adventure awaits, and I am looking forward to finding the next rising arc that will take me into the exciting future that lies ahead. The good news is that my hair is getting long enough to stream in the wind as the rollercoaster picks up speed…

Back to class, part 3: the Ruehlin Associates Career Transition Seminar

Posted by Mike Grice on September 26, 2011

Here we go for a third time- back into the interesting realm of transition training and education. As the title indicates this is the third post that specifically address the classes, symposia, and seminars that I attended as part of the formal transition process.

Today’s post is about the Ruehlin Associates Career Transition Seminar (called just “Ruehlin” for short) which I was very fortunate to be able to attend. The reason that I say that I was fortunate to attend is because enrollment is limited to around 15 participants (with spouses encouraged to attend), and the target audience is the most senior of the courses that I attended. Not strictly limited to military people, it is also designed for senior government employees from the civil service who are retiring. Their target audience, as shown on their website, is centered on that select group of senior people:

‘Many activities offer the seminar to senior officers (O-5 and above), senior enlisted (E-8 and above) and senior civil service (GS-14 and above) who are within a year or two of retirement, or who are on a known countdown. Nearly everyone who attends the course says, “Should have had this five years ago!” That might be too early, but the point is valid…people make gross errors and waste a lot of time because they miss opportunities or find that they have been “shopping in the wrong mall.” We believe 12 to 18 months out is a good target.’

The blurb on their website was on the money. I wish that I had been able to attend the course at least a year earlier than the short seven months remaining to my separation date. Even though I attended the session relatively late in the proposed timeline it was still worth every minute that I spent in the course. The Ruehlin course is a little different from the TAP/TAMP and 25+ Pre-Retirement courses, however. The course is not offered through the base education or career center, but instead is a special opportunity offered by larger units and commands. It is not a government or military symposium, but instead a private enterprise that specializes on assisting with the transition of senior military and civilian government servants. In short, it is a professional course put on by a top-notch company that specializes in transitioning senior people. It is a job that Ruehlin and Associates are very good at.

My personal opportunity to participate in the seminar came up as I made my plans to depart the service known. I had heard about many of the educational opportunities available during transition, but the Ruehlin was a new one to me. I had heard about it, but in typical hard charger fashion I didn’t pay any attention and as a result was ignorant of the great opportunity that the course presented. At any rate, I made it onto an email list of interested parties (i.e., those on the way out or those smart enough to ask if they could get on the list well ahead of their retirement date) and was soon assured a spot at the table for the next course. Since it is only offered a couple of times per year in my command I considered myself very fortunate to have made the list. As I would learn, my good fortune was truly immense- as with the other courses I learned lessons that paid off immediately in addition to those that I will be putting to use for the rest of my life.

The focus of the Ruehlin course is identical to all of the other courses in one regard; that being that it is designed to prepare people like me who are leaving the service for life after we hang up our uniforms. Ruehlin is very different, however, in its fine tuned focus and rigorous execution. Where TAP/TAMP focused on the mechanics of transition and the 25+ centered on what the business world is like, Ruehlin pinpoints the process of getting a job. The other two courses did fantastic work on more of a macro level, which dovetails nicely with Ruehlin’s laser-tight emphasis on the employment process.

Soon after I was selected to attend the course a plain brown envelope arrived in my mailbox. A little puzzled, I opened it up and out fell a green booklet and a letter. The letter was an introduction and welcome aboard for the upcoming session, and the book was a little homework exercise that proclaimed in bold capital letters:

CAREER PLANNING

and

MANAGEMENT

That got my attention. Very authoritative! So did the last bit at at the bottom of the page:

**IMPORTANT**

PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE PACKET AND COMPLETE ALL

OF THE QUESTIONS PRIOR TO ATTENDING THE SEMINAR

What I found inside was a series of assignments unlike any I had seen in a long time. There were about a dozen sections in the book and each contained a worksheet of sorts. They weren’t like calculus word problems or anything really difficult, but instead were simple exercises designed to pull a little bit of information from the respondent (me!) about him or her self. They all had a common theme, though, which quickly became evident. One section focused on my career- not just what I had been doing in the military, but what would I like to do next? Another section delved into education, and another looked at organizations and affiliations that I may be partial to. It also had a memo for the spouse, which was not just a nice touch. It brought into distinct focus that transition is not a solitary activity; everything that I would do from now on would be inextricably linked to my spouse. A great and sometimes forgotten point. So, with a little trepidation and a couple of sharp pencils, I sat down to fill out the blanks and learn a little about myself.

Not long after completing my exercise with the green book it was time to go to class. It began at 0730 on Monday morning, and was scheduled through Friday. The dress code was listed as Business Casual, which may as well have been top hats and tails for all I knew. After a quick search on the internet, I found that the expectation was a collared shirt and slacks with jacket and tie optional. Sweet! Not a problem, since I had all of those things. Thanks to my friends from the 25+ Pre-Retirement seminar, they even matched. A sharp dressed man indeed!

I arrived at the class which was being held at conference room on base. I stepped into what I supposed to be a business meeting of short-haired professionals approaching middle age; everyone seemed to be in their forties. We all were dressed pretty similarly in the uniform yet non-uniformity of “business casual”, with business suits, sports coats, and button down collared shirts as far as the eye could see. There was a lady with us as well, and she was as smartly dressed as the men. I saw a few faces that looked familiar, and we chatted a bit as we waited for the class to start.

Promptly at 0730 a thoroughly professional gentleman closed the door and we began our shared journey through the seminar. He was our facilitator, and like us had completed a full career in the military, retiring as a Navy Captain (which in the Navy is the senior paygrade of O-6, whereas in the Army and Marine Corps a captain is a much more junior O-3) after about three decades of service. He shared that he worked in a large corporation in an industry that was related to his military background, but that he found transition to be a bit daunting. He joined Ruehlin and Associates in the mid 1990’s, and had been leading seminars actively since then. He was very experienced and a thoroughly smooth and professional facilitator. He was aided in the course by a very good powerpoint slide package that he very professionally and smoothly presented. In addition, he handed each of a large red book titled What’s Next? This would be our notebook, hymnal, and Rosetta Stone all rolled into one; it was a comprehensive, well written, and very useful book that took the information presented in the daily seminar to the next level. In fact, it is such a useful reference that I still keep it on my desk at home and refer to it often as I work on my resume or pursue job opportunities.

One of the first things he shared was John Ruehlin’s story. He retired from the navy as a Rear Admiral, which is no small feat! What he found upon retirement, however, was that the lofty office of admiralship did not seamlessly transfer to civilian employment. Despite his impressive accomplishments and mountains of experience he had garnered through his successful career he couldn’t find a job. He was unprepared to enter the private sector, and went through a very humbling period of months and months as the impact of transition fully settled in. After many months of failing to find a job, he had a chance encounter with with a fellow beach-goer while he was attending a cocktail party. They chatted, and the result of the conversation was a phone number that John could call- his new found friend knew somebody who was looking for somebody like John. After mulling it for a while, John followed up and called the number he received from his beach encounter, and as a result ended up in a very senior position with a multi-billion dollar bank.

The story is important, because it frames the the entire course. John Ruehlin learned several things in his troubled transition, and those things became the central themes that we would be learning about and focusing on for the week:

– First and foremost nobody in the private sector really cares what you did in the military. They care about what you can do for them in the business world.

– Transition is just that- it is transition from one phase of life to the other. To be successful at it you must be fully prepared to move on.

– Getting a job or starting a new career takes a lot of work, and the best way to be successful is to treat it that way.

The course did an exceptional job of addressing each of those themes. They were not presented as blocks of instruction, but instead where more like strands of a rope that were woven together through the weeklong course. Each of the themes deserves a much more detailed explanation, so here goes….

– First and foremost nobody in the private sector really cares what you did in the military. They care about what you can do for them in the business world. That seems like a pretty brash statement, but it is true. While in uniform we are all in a very homogeneous environment where we are surrounded by people just like us. In the civilian world, that is simply not the case. Civvie street can be broadly broken down into two groups of people: social people and corporate people. Social people are friends, acquaintances, or pretty much anyone you meet outside a work context, while corporate people are those who can either offer you a job or know someone who can. Social people will be interested in your service and will love to hear your sea stories, but corporate people are listening through different ears. Corporate people want to know two things about you- can you make them money or can your save them money? If the answer to one or both of those questions is yes, then there is job with them in your future. If not, then you are just another military dude or dudette with a bunch of stories to tell.

The problem is that you really can’t tell the two groups apart most of the time. So what do you do? Stop telling sea stories? No, because that has been your life for decades. What we learned to do was to leverage our experiences and desires into any conversation with the goal of connecting with the corporate people. This is known as networking, and networking is the most likely way that you will get a job! Research shows that well over 75% of jobs are found interpersonal contacts, and that a tiny proportion are found in the classified ads in the newspaper. Networking was a central and constant theme throughout the course, and it proved to be very effectively taught.

We worked on our ability to network through a series of academic exercises and roleplaying, we developed short sales-type pitches that we could use when when the opportunity presented itself. Up to this point, most of us responded to the question “What are you going to do when you get out?” with “Get a real job…” While that sounds witty, we learned that it was probably the dumbest thing we could say- it instantly discounted us as viable employees to corporate people, and that was certainly no way to get a job! To overcome this, we crafted a “thirty second sound bite”, which is referred to as an “elevator introduction”, and it is intended to be used when you have a brief amount of time, for example the interval it takes an elevator to move between floors, to introduce yourself, present your credentials, and articulate what line of work you would like to go into. A more in-depth version is the “two-minute opener”, which expands on the three components of the elevator introduction. This one is used at job interviews when you are asked about yourself or when you have a conversation with someone and they would like to know more about you.

– Transition is just that- it is transition from one phase of life to the other. To be successful at it you must be fully prepared to move on. This is a bit more philosophical, but it is critically important. Our facilitator told us anecdote after anecdote about people who were just like us that had a miserable time because they never could fully transition. Examples are the hard charger who cannot let go of the lingo; dropping the “F” bomb in every other sentence at a job interview is a guaranteed way to remain unemployed. Another is refusing to embrace little things like fashion by wearing horribly outdated or inappropriate attire to an interview or networking opportunity. You don’t have to look like you stepped out of GQ or Glamour, but you shouldn’t wear the polyester leisure suit you wore to your senior prom either. One of the most common problem, however, is clinging to the past. Your career was a great one, but you will be hired for what you can do in the future for the company, not what you did in the military. The course does a remarkable job of putting your career into a context that it can be a positive and integral part of building your future career instead of having it be the anchor that keeps you from moving forward.

– Getting a job or starting a new career takes a lot of work, and the best way to be successful is to treat it that way. In the first morning of class we were all introduced to our newest job title: each and every one of us became the Director of Marketing for the company that was ourselves. We learned that in order to get a job or start a new career we needed to be able to let the world know we were available and potential assets to businesses, and that nobody besides ourselves was going to make that happen. Ruehlin has an incredibly organized and effective program to teach us how to accomplish this in a few short days, and I what I learned fundamentally changed how I viewed life after the Marine Corps. We learned to critically assess ourselves in order to learn what our strengths and weaknesses are. Based on those, we analyzed what we would be good at, and more importantly, what we wanted to do (that was an epiphany for me- I was so used to doing the same line of work that I had never seriously considered anything else!) in the future. We learned the ins and outs of building a network, including little things like what our business card should look like (don’t hand out your old military card!), the aforementioned introductions, and tips such as what to do when somebody give you their business card (write down a little about them so that you will remember who they are and why they gave you the card).

The meat of the course was spent on resumes. We learned how terrible ours were (and mine was really bad!) and how to write effective ones that would result in a job offer. We learned how to write the many types of business correspondence, such as cover letters, thank you notes, references, and responses to job offers as well. We learned how to write the three basic types of resumes – chronological, functional, and combination – but focused mainly on the combination style (I will be posting extensively in the future about resumes- don’t worry!) Writing a good resume is a lot harder than I had thought. It requires a lot of introspection, a lot of research, and a lot of analysis. Anybody can write a love letter to themselves that says how great they are, but that won’t land them a job.

We also spent no small amount of time on the the mechanics of getting hired. Resumes will get you an audition, but it’s your performance gets you a spot in the band. We learned about the etiquette of the interview (be early, but not too early; smell nice, but not like a gigolo on the prowl; dress like you want to get a job- professionally, not like a surfer dude fresh off some tasty waves) and the importance of the little things, like sending a thank-you note to show appreciation to the interviewer for his or her time. It helps to do some research on the company that you are interviewing with, too. If you can show your interviewer that you know more about his company than he does good things will happen.

The course was not just lectures and powerpoint presentations, either. The facilitator took us through a series of practical exercises where we practiced our elevator pitches and how to interview, and he capped the week off with an hourlong one-on-one session with each participant. He had the same offer for each of us- an hour of his time to talk about anything we wanted. In my case, he scrutinized my resume (which had greatly improved thanks to his instruction and mentorship) and we talked about my future. He pointed out something which I had not really considered- why even go back to work at all? I had an opportunity to pursue higher education, so why not pursue it? After all, I was going to be receiving a pension, which wasn’t enough to live on forever, but the GI Bill and other benefits offer some fantastic opportunities outside the traditional career path. His candor and professionalism made quite an impression, and thanks to him I was able to look at my future from a different perspective.

I have been truly fortunate to be able to participate in three different transition courses, and each provided a different perspective on the same important subject. Ruehlin’s seminar taught us in great detail how to go out and get a job, which is a skill that every one of us in the class needed to learn. More importantly, though, the course demystified the job search process and provided us with the tools to go out into the next great adventure. In the words of Colonel Mike Frazier, another recent graduate:

“[T]he Ruehlin course was like the end of the Wizard of Oz movie–it pulled back the curtain on retirement. Now it’s not a mysterious scary thing–it’s just a short fat guy pulling levers–or more accurately, an old bald guy getting organized to do a bunch of planning and networking–which like all field grades, I’m pretty good at doing. It’s still a challenge, but now I know what I need to do and am much better prepared to attack post-USMC life vice my previous level of uncertainty…”

Well said. And right on the money!

Lessons learned-

– The Ruehlin course is not offered everywhere, nor is it offered by all commands. You may have to do some sleuthing around to find where it is being offered, but if you can find it the course is absolutely worth the time and effort.

– This course is complimentary to the TAP/TAMP and 25+ Pre-Retirement courses. Although they all teach the same basic subject, their differing perspectives and areas of focus make each one incredibly valuable. You cannot take advantage of enough educational opportunities, and the Ruehlin seminar is a certainly a great one. It is not the only one, however, so make sure to take it in conjunction with as many other programs as possible.

– The focus of the course is on landing a job, more specifically landing a job while you are still on active duty. They introduce the concept of the “Hot Window” for employment, which is a few months before your last day in the service. It is the hot window because employers are not looking to fill positions much farther out than that, and the closer you get to your last government paycheck the more desperate you are likely to become. To land a job interview and a follow on job offer in that window requires a lot of work, and the course shows you how to do it.

– Successful transition requires a lot more than taking off one set of clothes and putting on another. There is a significant change in perspective required as well, not to mention a ton of work. Many separating military people take the first job that they are offered, and in many cases it proves to be disastrous, or at least unsatisfying and unfulfilling. You have a golden opportunity as you prepare to leave active duty- you can actively prepare for your next career while being supported to do so by your current line of work. It isn’t the same in the corporate sector- job hunting on the clock at a civilian company would likely get you fired. You are crazy if you don’t take advantage of all the opportunities available to you, including the excellent Ruehlin seminar!

Reflections

Posted by Mike Grice on September 19, 2011

This past weekend I had occasion to go back to where it all started, well, at any rate where my life as a Marine began. As a resident of the greater San Diego area I am bounded by Marine and Navy bases and stations pretty much on every side, and during my years in uniform I have been fortunate to serve aboard many of them. This includes the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, where I shed my civilianhood as a petrified teenager only to return nearly two decades later as a senior officer who helped run the joint. Oddly, during the course of my career I had gone from being an inmate within the mustard colored walls of that hallowed institution to one of the metaphorical fat men behind the curtain who made the whole thing run. Upon my graduation from bootcamp I had sworn a solemn oath never to return to the wretched shores of San Diego, but like most youthful bents I disregarded it, came to my senses, and ultimately returned.

The Depot sits next to the Lindbergh Field, which is San Diego’s major airport. Any Hollywood Marine (as graduates of MCRD San Diego are known) can tell you, it is endlessly torturous to be suffering the indignancies of being a worthless recruit while watching airliner after airliner take off from a runway only a few hundred yards away- the very personification of the elusive freedom that they have sworn to defend but relinquished when they arrived at bootcamp. It was one of those planes that brought me back to the depot.

My father in law had been down for a visit, and as it was time for him to head home I took him down to the airport. With the kids in the back seat, we headed down to drop him off, and as we drove past the unmistakable architecture of the training grounds I noticed that I was running low on gas. After a few hugs and handshakes, he headed for the gate and we hit the road. Never one to pass up the chance to save a buck or two on gas, I drove over to MCRD to take advantage of the PX.

We approached the gate, and I saw no small number of teenagers no different than myself some quarter of a century ago waiting for a taxicab ride by the entrance. Each seemed accompanied by a small mountain of luggage that comes only from an all-expenses paid vacation to such an establishment; seabags (duffel bags for non-nautical types), garment and gym bags in the mottled green that matched the camoflage of their field uniform, and the ubiquitous black satchel that contained their orders and other important papers. Like a thunderclap, I was instantly transported back to when I was one of them- a young man eager to step out on an exciting journey. Just as quickly as a thunderclap passes, though, my reverie was broken by the Marine guard at the gate brought me back to reality. Suspiciously eyeing my longish hair, he offered a salute and a thoroughly professional “good morning, Sir!” as he saluted and waved me through. It was not as though my life passed before my eyes, but my psyche was twisted with the realization that I was no longer looking forward to my life as a Marine, but instead was passing the baton to those who were.

I cruised over to the gas station and filled up. My kids had been here many times before, so when I asked if they wanted to see my old workplace they eagerly agreed. Besides, I needed to get my last haircut (!), and it is seemingly apropos that the last hair that I part with in the service of my country should go into the same trashcan as my first- with the only real difference being that it is a bit more silver now, and maybe just a little less in the dustpan than when I started.

After getting my hair cut (a snappy ‘do called a “low-regulation” – indeed the “lowest low-regulation” that I could talk the barber into) we headed out to see the sights. Our first stop was that small fitness area behind the “RESTRICTED AREA” sign that marked the hallowed grounds of the Drill Instructor School. I had served as the director of the Marine Corps premier leadership school some years ago, so I invoked executive privilege and we snuck over to cavort a on the pullup and dip bars. Even though I am still a senior officer on active duty, and even though I was the director of the school, I still got chills up and down my spine as I violated the rule to stay out of the restricted area. Such is the power of the training that recruits endure on the path to become Marines; I still dreaded the thought of a drill instructor finding us where we weren’t supposed to be and taking his revenge upon such dangerous rule breakers as myself and my two rambunctious kids.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we left Drill Instructor School behind and walked up and down the arcade, which is a half-mile long open portico that is the distinctive hallmark of the base. The smells and sights crossed the chasm of time; the place looks almost unchanged despite the years that have passed since I first stepped foot onto the yellow footprints. Across the parking lot, on the parade field (or “grinder” as it is universally known), we saw a platoon of camoflage wearing recruits frozen in mid stride, surrounded by a blur of Drill Instructors in their service uniforms who seemed to be everywhere all at once. They were being evaluated on their ability to conduct Close Order Drill, or COD.

Again, the time machine between my ears kicked into overdrive and I was back on the grinder, younger, leaner, and terrified that I would make a mistake and incur the painful wrath of my Drill Instructors. With a shudder, sat on a bench and pulled my kids over.

“What are they doing?”

“What kind of guns do they have?”

“Are they your friends?”

I answered their questions (“Drilling”, “M-16 Service Rifles”‘, “we are all friends”) and watched the magic happen. It was cathartic to see the next generation of Marines being made before my eyes, and oddly enough it looked exactly as it did when I was here back in the mid ’80s. It is what makes and keeps the Marine Corps great; the tireless dedication to duty, the selfless passion to the institution, and the certainty that being a Marine is something momentous are all sparks that ignite the burning flame that lights the soul of each and every wearer of the Eagle, Globe and Anchor.

As I watched them march by, it was clear to me that the next generation was as good as mine, and that the passing of the torch ensured that it would burn bright and clear for the next year, the next decade, and indeed forever. The soul of the Marine Corps is the soul of each Marine, and it rests deep within each and every man and woman who has earned the title “Marine”. I observed a part of that soul being born, and was proud be be a witness.

To them I say good luck, but make sure to enjoy the ride. Too soon they will be sitting on a bench watching the generation that follows them march into their destiny just as I did this past weekend. Despite the hardships, the terror of combat and the boredom that accompanies standing watch in the middle of the night, I would trade places with any one of them and do it again.

Semper Fidelis!

(Almost!) my last haircut

Posted by Mike Grice on September 2, 2011

So there I was…..

Most great stories and nearly all tall tales start with those four words. The following post is neither, but more of a cautionary tale about how reality often smashes my errant assumptions, and in this case, it smashed my belief that I had completed my weekly visits to the barbershop.

So anyhow, there I was. Standing at the customer service counter in the Separations and Retirements section of our base Installation Personnel Administration Center (IPAC- yay! Another acronym!), I held in my excitedly trembling hands a folder that contained all of the papers, documents, and adminstrivia required for me to check out of the Marine Corps and start my life as a civilian. Under the assumption that once the I had completed all of my checkout requirements (don’t worry- posts a-plenty on those requirements are in the works) I would be able to take off my uniform for the very last time and explore the exciting new world of hair care products. My giddiness was suddenly crushed, however, by a sign on the bulkhead (Marinespeak for wall) that proclaimed in bold capital letters:

ATTENTION CUSTOMERS:

According to MCO P1020.34G, both

Males and Females must be within

grooming regulations and appropriate

Civilian attire or Uniform of the Day

It wasn’t a new sign. A little dusty and curled at the edges, it was hung in the typically austere fashion of all such signs in administrative offices across the Marine Corps; a plain black and white sheet of paper inside a plastic document protector and taped to the bulkhead with some yellowing cellophane tape. It also wasn’t alone. Glancing around, I saw that identical signs in identical document protectors were taped, pinned, or otherwise stuck to almost every vertical surface in the office.

Apparently they wanted the Marines and Sailors to look like Marines and Sailors when they came to the office to conduct their transition related business.

That, in and of itself, is no surprise. However, I was a bit taken aback because I realized that I had indeed not had my last Marine Corps regulated haircut, and here’s why:

I have posted several times about the End of Active Service (EAS) date. It is your last day on active duty, and the next day your obligation to serve your country is complete (unless you have a reserve service obligation of some sort) and you are free to run amok and do all of the things that you couldn’t do in uniform- like grow your hair and sleep in ’til noon. Totally makes sense.

Ahh, but not everyone leaves work on their last day and wakes up the next morning as a civilian. There are some benefits that can insert a few days between your last day at work and your first day back in the real world. Those benefits are known as “Terminal Leave” and “Permissive Temporary Assigned Duty”, or “PTAD”.

Terminal Leave, which is technically titled as “retirement or separation leave”, is referred to as “Terminal” in the jargon of the service (“You out yet?” “Nope, going on Terminal.”). It is simply an opportunity to use up whatever leave (vacation time for non military types) that you have accrued before you get out. This is actually a pretty big deal, because taking your leave instead of selling it back to the government offers some significant advantages. If you use your leave you continue to receive all of your other pay and benefits, such as housing allowances, subsistance stipends (for food), medical care, dental care, and so on for as long as you are on leave. If you sell your leave back, which is the other option, you receive a lump sum payment for your your prorated salary. In other words, you are handed a check (not really, nobody gets checks anymore- your bank receives an electronic deposit) that totals the amount of salary you would have made had you taken leave, but with the huge difference that no other benefits or payments are included. Considering that a significant amount of the benefits package in the military is not part of your salary, you stand to lose out on some money as well as medical coverage and such. Sooo……nearly everyone takes some terminal leave.

Permissive Temporarily Assigned Duty, or PTAD, is another way that you can get some time off with pay before you get out. PTAD is mil-speak for Paid Time Off (PTO) in the civilian world, and it is allowed in a number of instances and for a variety of reasons. Examples include time off for the father when the little ones arrive (great for when your kids are born while you are able to be there instead of being off fighting the Taliban or Al Queda), for military families who are adopting children, jury duty, and the countless other events in life that occur that require you to be absent from work yet should not require you to use up your leave to attend them. How it works is you, the Marine, are assigned a set of orders that direct you to go do what you need to do and report back in when you are done. Using the example of paternity PTAD, when the child is born the father is granted ten days off to bring the newborn into the family. During that time, he is free to care for his family without having to come into work or put on a uniform, which is good because he probably won’t be at his best at work anyway! At the end of the ten days, he needs to come back to work and check back in. When he comes back he must be within grooming standards and wearing his uniform. (Before I get angry comments on how sexist the paternity policy is I must point out that mothers in uniform receive 42 days of maternity leave after birth, and that can be extended if medically required, so the benefits associated with parenthood are actually pretty good!)

Getting back to what Terminal and PTAD have to do with my desire to grow longer hair…

In my case, I had a significant amount of leave on the books. Leave in the military accrues at a rate of 2.5 days per month, so you earn 30 days of leave a year. Nice! If you take it all, then you have none left over, but if you don’t take it all you build up a leave balance that grows monthly. The regulations state that you can maintain a balance of up to 60 days of leave, but any leave in excess of that number on the change of the fiscal year is lost. What that means is that if you have 65 days on the books on September 30th, five of them are “lost” (meaning deducted from your balance with no payment to the leaveholder) and the new Fiscal Year starts on October 1st with your balance reduced to 60 days.

Well, there are a couple of wars going on and it can quite often be extremely challenging to take all of your leave. For me, I had completed four deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan in the five years leading up to my transition, so I had not been able to take much leave. In fact, since leave accrues until your EAS, I was looking at over 90 days that I could take as Terminal Leave. Because there are literally thousands of people like me out there the 60 day annual limit on leave was temporarily increased to 75, and up till October 1st you could carry a balance of 105 days (because you lose excess leave on that day). Anyway, I had to request for approval to use 95 days as terminal leave in order not to lose the time I had accrued because my terminal leave would bridge the fiscal year. The request was approved, and so half of the equation was complete.

The other half is PTAD. As a retiring servicemember I am authorized to take 20 days of PTAD to facilitate househunting, looking for a job, and other transition related tasks. Similar to leave, every day that you are on PTAD counts- even weekends and holidays. That means that 20 days PTAD is 20 consecutive days on the calendar that may be taken in conjunction with your terminal leave. Pretty nice benefit! You still receive your pay and allowances and can take care of the millions of things that need to be done as you transition. For those moving away, they can take the 20 days with their terminal leave, which in effect allows them a nearly three week head start on their new lives. And they get to start using haircare products that much sooner…..

Which brings me back to my coiffure related dilemma. Since I was not moving away, I was actually eligible for a little more time off because I would be allowed to take my 20 days of PTAD in five day increments. Locals like me can check out on PTAD on Monday morning and use five days that week, with the orders expiring on Friday at 1700 (five o’clock in the afternoon, which is the end of the work day). The weekend would be “liberty”, which is naval terminology for time off that is not chargeable as leave or PTAD. I would then go back in the next Monday and pick up a new set of orders…..and my 20 days became 28. Excellent!

But……that’s where the signs plastered all over the transition office come in. I would have to pick up my orders in uniform, or in appropriate civilian attire. And within grooming standards, which meant I still have a few dates with my barber. D’oh!

That’s OK though. He is a great guy, and he knows just how low he can go and still keep my hair within regulations…..

__________

Lessons learned:

– Read the small print, or in this case, the signs that adorn the office. I had never paid any attention to them because they never applied to me before, but now that they do their significance rocketed to the top of the chart.

– Pay attention to when you are getting out. If you are not careful you can lose some of your leave when the fiscal year ends at midnight on September 30th, and once those days are lost you cannot get them back. Your administrative section can help you get the waiver request together.

– If you are taking local PTAD then expect to go in every week to pick up your orders. I had never heard of this requirement before, but I should have expected it because that is simply the way things are done. As a result, I have a few more haircuts to take, but that is no big deal. What is a big deal is if you don’t go in to pick up your orders you can get in trouble for Unauthorized Absence, which is the modern term for being AWOL.

– Terminal leave and PTAD must be approved by your commanding officer, and in some cases the service headquarters. It is not a right, but is a benefit that may not be approved in some circumstances. The rub is that while you are on terminal leave and on PTAD your unit goes without your replacement- he or she usually doesn’t show up until your EAS and you job is gapped. Depending on what you are doing or what is going on, you may be too important to let go.

Back to class, part 2: the 25+ Pre-Retirement Seminar

Posted by Mike Grice on August 26, 2011

“The phonebook’s here! The phonebook’s here!”

Well, this isn’t the phonebook and I am not Navin R. Johnson, but this is the much anticipated and often promised posting on my second foray into education on transition. This is the second of three posts about the transition classes and seminars which was fortunate to attend. The subject today is the 25+ Pre-Retirement Seminar, which is a week long symposium that focuses primarily on training us, the soon to depart active duty set, on the finer points of changing careers. Specifically, this course is intended to provide jobseeking training on a more senior level than the previous TAP/TAMP classes. Consistent with the title of the course, the student body was comprised with career Marines and Sailors who had served over a quarter of a century in uniform- a truly distinguished (at least we liked to think so!) group of about forty men and women.

Unlike the TAP/TAMP curricula, this seminar did not meet the requirements mandated by the Department of Defense for a transition class. As such it is truly voluntary but proved to be well worth the time spent! TAP/TAMP was a broad array of briefs and classes that centered on the mechanics of transition and is intended to educate the nation’s newest veterans on the rights and entitlements that they had earned through their service. Since all of those subjects were thoroughly covered in the TAP/TAMP classes, the 25+ Pre-Retirement Seminar could focus on what each and every one of us was most worried about: how to get a job.

The course spans an entire week, with an introduction on the first day by a retired Marine named Dan from the Marine Corps Community Services Personal and Professional Development center located aboard Camp Pendleton. We were shoehorned into a smallish classroom in a building that was new sometime around the Cuban Missile Crisis, but the air conditioning worked so we didn’t really have anything to complain about. After Dan went over the schedule and the administrative details (like where the heads, I mean bathrooms, were located and more importantly where we could find some coffee), he introduced Chuck. Chuck would be our teacher, mentor, and confessor for the succeeding days of the course, but the first day belonged to Dan.

Dan’s portion of the class covered some of the same topics from TAP/TAMP, but from a more senior perspective. For example, one of the guest speakers was a businessman from the local area who discussed entrepreneurship and the exciting possibilities of owning your own business. “When you own your own business,” he observed, “you are realizing your own dreams. When you work for somebody else, you are helping them realize theirs!” True enough! The concept of being an entrepreneur was more in line with our “older” class, because most young guys and gals getting out after a few years aren’t going to be in the position to go into business for themselves, but the education level and practical experience garnered over a few decades in uniform lend themselves to entrepreneurship. Hmmm…..food for thought.

One of the most interesting and useful parts of the first day centered around a couple of sheets of paper held together with a standard government issued staple in the corner. Starkly white with black text (in true government fashion- no fancy graphics or glossy paper for us!), its’ title grabbed my attention right away:

How Prepared Are You to Become a Civilian Again?

Great question! I read on.

“How prepared do you think you are for the rest of your life? There are many things to consider as you prepare to leave military service. Think over each of the questions below and circle the answer that is most applicable to you. The more “Yes” answers you have, the better prepared you will be.

Hmmmmmmmm. How ready was I?

“1. Do you discuss you upcoming retirement freely with your spouse, children, friends?”

Yep. So far so good!

“2. Do you know what community, state, and federal resources are available to help you make the transition from military to civilian life?”

Feeling a bit perplexed, I wasn’t so sure that a solid “yes” was the best and honest answer. I circled “yes” anyway because I wanted to make sure my score at the end of the questionnaire was a good one.

“3. Do you have a support system – friends, family – away from your work place?”

Whew! Another easy “yes”!

“4. Have you thought about meaningful off-duty roles that will prepare you now for civilian career opportunities?”

“5. Do you have a lawyer with whom you are comfortable?”

“6. Is your will up to date?”

“7. Do you have a psychologist, religious adviser, or other professional to whom you can turn for sound personal advice?”

Gulp. The questions were getting harder, or at least less easy to convince myself that I could continue to happily circle “yes”. I didn’t realize that having a shrink or a priest was part of transition. Needless to say, I wasn’t as prepared as I thought, but the exercise of completing the questionnaire did admirably serve to focus my attention.

Not long after being humbled by a simple 25 question questionnaire another lecturer took the stage. He was a youngish looking guy with a nice suit, and the initial impression was that he was another businessman here to tell us what we needed to do with our lives. His introduction, though, changed that misguided perception!

It turns out that he was recently one of us, and had made the transition to the other side a couple of years ago. He was also a graduate of this exact seminar, and was standing before us to spread the gospel of hope and positivity- he was the “after” that we all wanted to become. Dapper, smart, and articulate, he told us his story, which in a nutshell was that 1) transition is confusing and daunting at times and 2) once you transition, life can be pretty good. It is the tweener time bookended by getting out on one end and getting a job on the other. Not to worry though, he said, because we were in this course. He credited his success to the lessons that he learned in the same seats that we were keeping warm- all we needed to do was pay attention and do everything that Dan and Chuck said.

Not long after his pitch we finished for the day. Happily, the remainder of the week would be held at the old Officer’s Club, which was much more spacious and comfortable than the Hobbitlike warren we occupied on the first day. An added piece of happiness was provided as well- we each got our very own copy of the book “What Color is Your Parachute” by Richard Nelson Bolles. A good class and free stuff to boot! Not bad!

Promptly at 0800 the next morning we all piled into the O’Club and got ready for Chuck to show us the way to our collective futures. Before I go into the fine course he gave us, let me give you a little of his background.

Chuck enlisted in the Marine Corps back in the 1950’s. He did four years on active duty and then got out. One thing that has always followed him is that his transition from the Marine Corps was not as genteel as it should have been. More of a “don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” than “thanks for your service”. It always bothered him.

Chuck had a very successful career despite the failure of the service to prepare him for life on the other side. He was a salesman and later an executive in the medical devices industry, and after retiring from that line of work he opened his own practice as a career consultant. He has helped literally thousands of people prepare for interviews and snag successful jobs- including Marines and other servicemen and women. At a Marine Executive Association meeting (MEA is a great networking association- more on that in another post), Chuck was asked if he could put together a transition seminar for more senior folks (like me!), and after putting a significant amount of diligent work in, he created this seminar.

Fast forward again a couple of years and there I was, sitting on the edge of my seat learning lesson after lesson on what transition was like. Each and every transition seminar is fantastic, and they are variations on the theme of transition and job hunting. Chuck’s seminar focused on the hiring process, and most telling was his perspective as a businessman. He started by handing out a workbook of sorts which contained the entire slide package for his classes along with space to take notes. This proved to be very useful over the next few days, and my only regret is that I didn’t take more notes! He used anecdotes from his experience as an employee and employer as well as a wealth of statistical data and research to teach us the ins and outs of how to conduct a successful job search.

There are four specific topics from Chuck’s seminar that were more in depth than the other seminars, and I learned a ton by participating. Here they are in no particular order:

1. The importance of professionalism. Chuck has interviewed literally hundreds, if not thousands, of job candidates. One of the things he does in his practice is to act as a professional interviewer for companies on the other coast. He performs initial interviews for professional “C” level (CEO, COO, etc.) candidates- interviews that, if successful, will get them in the door with major companies at senior levels. Chuck shared with us what it is like to interview senior people. Some of the vignettes were hilarious, some were a little uncomfortable, but all were lessons in how to put your best foot forward when interviewing. It isn’t just your resume and a new suit that makes an impression, but little things like cleanliness of your fingernails (engine grease under the nails is only acceptable when applying for a job as a mechanic), the condition of your shoes (ever heard of polish and a brush?) and your breath (is roasted garlic for lunch a good idea before an interview?) His perspectives really showed that it takes a lot of hard work and diligent effort to make an interview go well. Likewise, it only takes a little laziness a little inattentiveness to make it go poorly. Long story short- put the work in ahead of time and you will do fewer interviews and land a job. Don’t do so an you will become a professional interviewee!

2. Clothes. The indefatigable Mark Twain observed that clothes make the man, and today I am sure that he would include women in that statement. In this case it is absolutely true. Too many of us have terrible wardrobes from decades ago or have a skewed perspective of what businesspeople really dress like (what? I can’t wear my khaki tie with blue shirt?) The first impression is critically important in a job interview, and if you look like an idiot things probably won’t go well when you try to dazzle the interviewer with your brilliance. All they will see is a fashion disaster that they don’t want representing their company.

Chuck doesn’t just wax eloquent with anecdotes in the realm of haberdashery- he brings in the experts. At the request of the seminar coordinator, the general manager from a nation-wide and well respected clothier gives a lengthy presentation on attire. Far from a sales pitch (and Chuck doesn’t get a kickback!), it is an in-depth education ranging from how suits are made (pretty interesting, really!) to the importance and differences between fashion and style (fashion being the trendy thing that is in this year, and style being timeless…for example, four button suitcoats were fashionable a few years ago, but the two button coat never goes out of style). They went into great detail on the quality levels in clothing as well as how to dress, which surprisingly has a lot more to it than just slacks + shirt + tie + jacket. Colors matter (I knew that) and textures do too (texture? huh?) Belts should match your shoes. No bling- that nifty but obnoxious aircraft carrier tie tac is probably not a good idea…and best of all, they had a sale going on that weekend on clothing. I went shopping and after a personal consultation I like to think that I am, indeed, a sharp dressed man!

3. Resumes, cover letters, and other job related documentation. Each seminar has a different take on resumes, and this one is no different. Chuck preaches the merits of all of the various resume formats, but focuses on the chronological resume over the functional or combination formats. In his words:

“I have a worksheet for the chronological resume that makes it easier to start. We have to start somewhere and filling in the blanks is easier than saying ‘let’s write a resume what kind of a resume do you want?’ Initially I took this approach [while teaching the seminar] and I had 40+ Marines and Sailors looking at each other. They honestly didn’t know where to start. We are all good at filling in the blanks and each person in the class knows the chronology of their own career. So if you fill in the blanks with your entire career we have a starting point. The chronological is easy for the class because they all have more than two decades of material to work with. When they finally decide on what they would like to do, then we can start discarding irrelevant information. But we had a lot of information to start with; at this point we can make the determination of what type of resume do I want to produce. Resumes are a very personal thing; the resume that you submit to an employer is the one that you decide is the best portrayal of you on paper. It is YOU in the absence of the real and physical you.”

Chuck’s point is a very valid one- the audience (including myself and 30 of my newest and closest herd-mates) have little to no experience with resume writing, and the chronological resume is a logical place to start. I will devote no shortage of electrons to screen on resumes in the future, but in a nutshell the chronological resume is just that- a lineage of your career that starts with today and stretches back into the past. How far depends on how much grey hair you have; if you are fresh out of college, then how you did in high school is relevant. Not so much for the “experienced” crowd. In our case, the last ten years is the most important. The functional resume is based on your skill sets and is not tied to a timeline. This is good for situations where qualifications and certifications are important, such as the healthcare field (for example, a specialist in podiatry would probably address their ability to get around a foot pretty well). The combination is just that, a combination between both of the other formats with the occasional other bit thrown in. Cover letters are likewise important, because after all, you want to get a job, don’t you? A mimeographed copy of the same resume sent to a multitude of firms won’t get you very far, and especially if there is not a cover letter to go with it. The cover letter is a more specific introduction of you to the company you are submitting the resume to. If you don’t have one, or if it is obviously a generic one, then you are guaranteed to feed the recyclable paper shredder without a second thought. Other items are business cards, thank you cards, references…..all in all an extensive list of things about which I knew very little but that Chuck educated me on! Again, I will be writing at great length about all of these in the future. I promise!

4. Negotiating salary and benefits. Now this is important because it is something that all of us uniform are really terrible at. We come from a background where our salary and benefits are the same for all of us: you can look it up on the internet. If you want to see how much I make a year, Google “2011 Military Pay Chart” and look up Lieutenant Colonel (paygrade O-5) with over 26 years of service. Not so much in the civilian world! You can get fired for telling everyone how much you make! Biiiiiiig difference between the civilian world and the military, let me tell you. Getting back to negotiating, Chuck breaks it down in easily understandable chunks that we can use to negotiate our salary and benefit with a potential employer. Little things like 37% of people who ask for something get it, while 100% of those who don’t ask for anything get nothing. Another gem is doing your homework- how much is the position worth? More specifically, how much is the position worth where you want to live? A salary in the midwest is simply not the same as one in New York or San Francisco- you really need look into the background in order to determine what is right for the job, for you, and for your family. He also goes into great detail about benefits, perks, and the like. Company car? Parking? Mileage? All of those things that I had not thought of were laid out in a logical and thoughtful manner. There are literally dozens of resources just a few keystrokes away- try an internet search for the average salary and benefits for the type of job you are looking for. Search several sites and average them together, and that will give you a benchmark from which to negotiate. After all, the person with whom you are negotiating does this for a living, so you had better be diligent!

I learned a tremendous amount about transitioning from Dan and Chuck, and I am truly in their debt. If you are on the West Coast, then start breaking down doors to get into the course. If not, hopefully their seminar will be established at a base near you….

__________

Lessons learned:

– Find out if a senior level retirement seminar is available in your area. The successful implementation of Dan and Chuck’s hard work here at Camp Pendleton has resulted in bases far and wide trying to copy the program. Also, sign up early as there are only so many seats per class.

– First and foremost, calm down and get yourself organized as you begin your search for a job. It’s easy for me to say calm down, but when you are faced with the prospects of finding a job in today’s market, it’s a daunting task. Organization will make it a little easier.

– Do your planning in a logical order. Don’t try to do everything at once. You want to make a time-flow chart with all of your tasks laid out. Each entry should have a start and finish date. You can follow the workbook and lay out your projects in logical order. Some of these tasks should be: Resume, Cover Letter (Each one should be personalized but you should have a plan) Reference Page, Networking plan in writing, Practice interviewing skills, Research employment possibilities, put together your interviewing wardrobe, develop ideas for thank you notes, and spend only 15% to 20% of your time contacting employment agencies and headhunters because that is the percentage of jobs that they tend to provide.

– Be comfortable in talking about yourself at an interview. Your interviewer really wants to know two things about you (1) What are your qualifications for the job and (2) based on your qualifications what are your accomplishments.

– Follow-up on all leads! Networking is where most jobs come from, and one of the follow-ups that you do may be the job that you are actually seeking.

– Job search is the worst job in the world. The sooner you get going on all aspects the sooner you will get a job and a paycheck!

I would like to extend a hearty thank-you to Chuck, as he helped with this post!

Crisis avoided!

Posted by Mike Grice on August 24, 2011

Ack!

Again, Ack!

Yesterday was one of those days that starts out just fine and ends up just fine, but the middle of the day felt a little like I swallowed a blender stuck on “liquify”. (For those keeping track, this is yet another post that is not the 25+ Pre-Retirement post, but I swear that one is coming- I just had to share my gut-wrencher from yesterday first).

It all started in the morning. My routine is a little different now that I am transitioning than it was when I was gleefully shoving my face into the career grindstone. Back then I was up at 0500 or so and on the road to work before 0600, draining a cup or two of coffee in the dark as I drove to the base. After checking emails, I was out running and working out by 0630. By 0800 I was showered, at my desk, and slaying each beastly problem that reared its ugly head. Ahhh, the good old days…..

But now I get up a little later (0600 if I am really lucky and can sleep in- after all, a couple of decades of getting up early is a tough habit to break!), I make the kids breakfast, watch a little news, check my personal email, drink a couple of cups of coffee, and then take my kids to school. I still work out, but now I can do it in the daylight (who knew?) and while wearing my iPod and without a reflective belt, the iPod because it is against orders to wear one while you run on base (we can’t be trusted to not wander into an oncoming tank as we dreamily listen to the latest Avril Lavigne album- annoying, that rule!) and sans reflective belt because I am pretty sure I needn’t rely on a strip of reflective vinyl to warn drivers not to run me over. Silly rules….

So anyhow, I dropped the kids off at school and happily drove onto base. I drove past all of the motivated Marines who were out running long distances, clapping their hands, and counting to four in the finest traditions of physical training and started work. After presenting a brief to my erstwhile boss, I headed over to the hospital to knock out a couple of medical appointments. On the way, I stopped by the “retirements” section of our Installation Personnel Administration Center (IPAC- another acronym!). IPAC is where those diligent, yet underloved and undervalued administration types work. They are responsible for getting us paid, ensuring our orders are correct, and every other arcane bit of administrivia that pertains to our service. In typical Marine Corps fashion, the office is squirreled away in a byzantine and somewhat decrepit old converted barracks located in a part of camp that I rarely get to.

After scaring a few young Privates First Class with my shiny Lieutenant Colonel’s silver oak leaves (my shiny rank insignia- they gave their best salutes and inwardly prayed that I would just keep walking and not say anything other than “Good Morning” to them), I wended my way up the ladderwell (stairs for you landlubbers) and hit the retirements office. It was about lunchtime, so there were only a couple of people there instead of the normal half dozen or so.

I saw my smiling retirement counselor and gave him a wave. “Just stopping by to make sure everything is OK with my retirement request,” said I, “is there anything I need to do?”

Even though it was his lunch hour, he set aside what looked like an algebra textbook (never too late to go back to school!) and cheerily said “I’ll take a look!” This is why I love working with former Marines (a “former Marine is a civilian who used to be a Marine- retired or not), because he could have just pointed to the “closed for lunch” sign and made me come back later. Marines help Marines, former or not.

After a little banter, his brow furrowed a bit and he let me know that my request for 95 days of terminal leave had never been approved.

I think that the explosive pressure that instantly filled my head caused the earthquake on the Eastern Seaboard yesterday, even though the epicenter was some 3000 miles away. My knees nearly buckled and I almost started to feel faint.

Before I continue with the story, let me explain a few of the particulars in the case. Let’s start with “Terminal Leave”. Terminal Leave is leave (“vacation” in civilian parlance) that is taken at the end of your service and before you officially transition back to civvie street. We earn 30 days of leave each year, and in cases where you have some left over you can take it at the end of your time in uniform, which in effect gives you time off with pay before you get out. In my case, I had accrued over 100 days of leave (which is a lot, but thanks to a lot of time in hot, brown, and angry places I had not been able to take all of my vacation for the last five or so years) and I wanted to use up 95 days of it just before my retirement date. That would give me an opportunity to transition at a leisurely pace and maybe put a dent in the scoll-like “honey-do” list that hangs above my married head like the sword of Damocles.

Well, to get 95 days requires one to ask for a waiver from the Marine Corps headquarters in Quantico, Virginia, and the waiver must be requested in standard Naval format using an arcane system that hearkens from the days of clattering teletypes. In my case, the timing is critical because my request crosses over the end of the fiscal year (September 30th), and any leave that I had in excess of 75 days would be lost without the waiver. So, in a nutshell, if the request was not approved I would have to work for about another month before I could go on terminal leave.

That would not go over well at home. Trust me.

My friendly retirement counselor saw my consternation and asked if I had a copy of the message. Nope. Did I have an email, perhaps? Yes! Taking his generous offer to log into one of their office computers, I pulled up a months-old email from my monitor (the monitor is the Marine who determines your assignments and issues orders that send you to places like Alaska if he doesn’t like you or Hawaii if he does in addition to approving terminal leave waivers from people like me) that said he had no problem with me taking 95 days of terminal leave. Unfortunately, the email did not have the formal approval, so it wasn’t quite enough.

D’oh!

“Call your monitor,” said my counselor, “he should have the message.”

My head was spinning. Surely there was a copy of the message! I asked if he could access it from his computer. He looked, but it wasn’t there. Again, he advised me to call my monitor.

Reaching for the phone, I didn’t call my monitor but instead called the administrative shop at my unit. The request had gone through them months ago, but because it was lunchtime the only one there was the poor low ranking sap who had to sit there and answer idiotic question from knuckleheads like me who call during lunchtime. After baffling the poor Marine with questions that way outside his lane, the sweat started to break out on my forehead.

A little more insistantly, “sir, call your monitor!”

So I dialed up Quantico and asked for my monitor. He wasn’t there, but the assistant monitor was. He had just re-entered his office after being evacuated by the earthquake, but in admirable Marine Corps fashion he immediately got back to work by helping me, a distraught officer on the other coast. He confirmed that they had never received the request, but he was able to pull up the email where his boss had agreed to my retirement plans.

“Sir,” he said, “If you can get the date-time group of the message I can pull it up and approve it immediately. You’ll have it tomorrow.”

Ahh, the date-time group of the message. That is how these messages are tracked. The date-time group is just that- the date and time that the message was sent by the originator. Since literally thousands of these messages are sent every day it is the only way to make sure that you have the right one, and without having the date-time group it would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Part of the problem is that the request does not go directly from the originator (me!) to the approver, but instead it has to go through several levels of command (bureaucracy at its finest!) and then it finally arrives on the desk of the person who can approve or deny it. In my case, the message was lost somewhere between California and Virginia, even though it is an electronic system. At any rate, I had some sleuthing to do in order to find the information he needed.

I thanked him as well as my counselor, who waved and went back to his algebra homework. I left the office and headed for my appointments, making calls as I went. Since it was still lunchtime, they were in vain. So, off to the hospital I went, and after a couple of hours getting poked and prodded by various medical personnel I was able to resume my quest for the most important message in the Marine Corps (at least in my opinion!).

I called my administrative section and finally got connected to a Marine who knew how to work the messaging system. I explained my dilemma, and after answering a few questions, he announced that he had found it. Hooray! He quickly read me the date-time group from the message, and I was back in business.

I emailed the information to the assistant monitor, and sure enough I checked my email this morning and he had done just as he promised- the request was formally approved and all was again right with the world.

Whew! Good thing, too. I think my family would have strung me up had I come home with the news that I needed to keep working for another month….

__________

Lessons learned:

– Always, always, always get copies of every piece of paper that pertains to your transition. In my case, I followed the status of the message up through the chain until I had been assured that it was approved. I didn’t ask for a copy, and since I didn’t I was unable to provide the proof I needed to fix my problem.

– Follow up repeatedly. I tracked the message several months ago, but didn’t follow up again until it was nearly too late. I shudder to think what may have happened if I had not stopped by the administrative office yesterday!

– Listen to the experts. The counselor had to tell me three times to call my monitor. If I had just done as he suggested immediately it would have saved me a few hours of angst and heartache. After all, that’s why they call the experts- they know more about their trade than you do!

Joining the herd

Posted by Mike Grice on August 19, 2011

When I left you with the last post I promised that the next missive would be on the 25+ Retirement Seminar. Well, this isn’t it. I didn’t exactly lie (not just because that is just a bad idea in general, and I promise that I will be giving you, the constant reader, all the inside scoop on the 25+ later) but I am instead going to write about the new group that I have found myself becoming a part of- a group that I had never overtly intended to join but happily ended up in anyway.

I became a member when I began attending transition seminars. Not at all unlike the the first couple of days in a high school I started to see the same faces in the seats to my left and right, except now they had grey hair and wrinkles as opposed to the big hair and RayBan Wayfarers that were the rage when I left the hallowed halls of my youthful education. In a surprising departure from our love affair with snappy uniforms with lots of sparkly trinkets the courses are conducted in civilian clothes, so there were none of the trappings that are part and parcel of martial life; no rank insignia or rack of ribbons to show our standing in the pecking order. Becoming civilians again began with the simple act of dressing like civilians- it made us all equal again, just like we used to be. We were all of similar age and were similarly dressed in the standard collared shirt and khaki slacks which compose the non-uniform that we all wear when we can’t wear a uniform. Much as we leave the world as naked as we entered it, my cohorts and I were decamping from the service in the mufti we abandoned to don the cloth of the nation.

Where before I considered myself carnivorous to a fault, I left the pack and fell in with very different crowd. I affectionately call them (us!) the herd. It is not a pejorative title in the least, but a descriptive observation of the new strata I found myself in. When you are on active duty, you are moving at a million miles an hour in about a hundred different directions. Compartmentalized thinking and multitasking are the norm- you almost never have the luxury of just tackling one problem at a time. As such, when all tend to be in a hurry, may be a bit brusque in our speech, and never have time to sit back and watch the leaves blow in the wind.

Once you drop your papers and announce that you are departing the service your ride on the waves of chaos comes to an end. You turn over flag to the next guy or gal, hand in your blackberry, and lose your parking spot- but you get your life back! All of a sudden you can take your kids to school and plan for holidays with the certainty that you won’t be hanging tinsel on a tree made out of an ammunition crate made festive with olive drab paint. Just as significant as these marvelous changes is your inculcation into a covey of people just like you- recently careworn, stressed out, and career-driven, but now shifting their lives to civilian side of the fence.

No longer part of the rapacious pack, we are all members of the congenial herd. Regardless of our background- pilot, grunt, artilleryman, mechanic, whatever- we are all now taking the same train to the same destination. We are all leaving our chosen profession to pursue life on civvie street, and just as the Unsinkable Molly Brown observed as she watched the Titanic sink beneath the waves, we were all in the same boat-first class and steerage passengers all lumped together. The ride is about to end. But that’s ok. There are plenty of other rides out there, and for a change we get to choose which one we want to try.

Orders to Nowhere…

A career Marine's transition back to the other side

Tag Archives: career

Why I write

Trading tradition for a tuxedo

Checking Out (2): Hello, Checkout sheet!

Completing the arc

Back to class, part 3: the Ruehlin Associates Career Transition Seminar

Reflections

(Almost!) my last haircut

Back to class, part 2: the 25+ Pre-Retirement Seminar

Crisis avoided!

Joining the herd

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: