Unfiltered Story #284758

In Singapore, every male has to serve 2 years in the army as part of mandatory conscription. Some of us (like my brother and half my cousins) absolutely dread and loathe it. Others (like me and the other half of my cousins) look forward to it. I was elated to do my duty to the country and serve as a soldier.

So imagine my horror when I get told that due to my (minor) peanut allergy, I got downgraded into mostly non combat vocations. Worse, it’s right after quarantine, so a lot of the fun stuff, like grenades, gets cancelled.

And I got assigned a bunk made up of childish and loud recruits, and the sergeant just seems to like bullying me and another recruit as we’re Bi. Then my bunk got assigned to suicide watch duty as the other Bi guy snapped under the bullying and tried to commit suicide twice.

Then after boot camp, I was shipped off to a new unit, and of all the choices available, I got saddled with the absolutely worse one. It was a desk job where you are actually expected to work hard. It’s not like I don’t mind working hard, but working hard at a desk job wasn’t my thing.

It is at this point I realised that my luck was beyond horrible and I could bank on it to consistently draw the shortest straw possible in every occasion. Ironic, considering that my childhood nickname was “Lucky”, as I used to consistently have good luck.

Sure enough, when bunks were assigned, I got the dirtiest one on the highest floor. Our assigned toilet broke within the week and was never completely repaired. The bunk right opposite us held many female soldiers so modesty was a big thing and strictly enforced, which meant no more walking to and back from the showers in nothing but a towel. And our new superiors seemed to have something to prove as they thoroughly upped discipline standards and punishments.

Tired of being stuck in that horrible desk job, I tried to arrange to leave for a combat vocation, but the medical officer told me that I needed a doctor to certify that my peanut allergy wasn’t severe enough to warrant an epipen. It didn’t, I knew that, but they needed confirmation. But the doctor claimed that based on the preliminary tests, I had only a 5% chance of passing the requisite allergy test. And unless I completely passed, she couldn’t certify that I was combat fit.

Regardless, out of stubbornness, I decided to go for it anyway. I passed with flying colours, to everyone’s bafflement. For a period of time, I felt like my bad luck had finally broken. I was free of that horrible desk job!

Then my A level results came back (I studied overseas, which is why they only came back after I enlisted for some time) and I had screwed up badly. I needed to retake my A levels and would not have the time to study if I left my desk job and went to a way more time consuming and exhausting boot camp and combat vocation.

In short, my bad luck literally made me pass a 95% chance of failure test just to screw me over with it. The combat vocation I wanted was right in my grasp and I couldn’t take it.

Honestly, I am impressed in the worst possible way at my bad luck. Even my childhood good luck was never so potent.