Need It A Fair Degree Smaller

, , , , | Working | April 5, 2019

(I attended one of the Military Academies where I earned my bachelors. After exiting the military and taking a year off, I am ready to return to school. One of the schools I’m applying to asks for a copy of my degree. Here’s the thing about Military Academy degrees: they’re the size of a poster! Not something easily scanned. I call the Registrar’s Office at the Academy to ask if they have a smaller size or a digital version they can send me.)

Receptionist: “Hello. May I help you?”

(I get no identification or confirmation of what office this is; they just pick up and say hello.)

Me: “Ah, is this the Registrar’s Office?”

Receptionist: “It is. What do you need?”

Me: *explains* “So, do you have a digital version or smaller, easily-scanned copy?”

Receptionist: “I don’t do that.”

Me: “Okay… Do you know who does?”

Receptionist: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay… Could you please give me the number?”

Receptionist: “Sure. It’s [rattles off the number at high speed].”

Me: “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Receptionist: *sighs* “Yes, it’s [still extremely fast]”

Me: “Okay, just to check, the number is [number]?”

Receptionist: *sounding very much annoyed* “Yes, that’s correct. What else do you need?”

Me: “Nothing. Goodbye!”

(I called the number, only to be informed the Academies do not make smaller copies for graduates. I ended up taking a picture and pasting it to an 8×11 paper via Word. Luckily, it worked.)

Lack Of Military Intelligence

, , , , , | Right | April 1, 2019

(I’m manning the register at a chain drug store. It’s usually slow, but today two customers — a man and a woman — come in and they look over the newspapers for a while until they finally come up to me to buy one. The woman slams the newspaper onto the counter and jabs her finger at the headline. It’s something about the armed forces.)

Female Customer: “We’re in there. That’s us.”

Me: *confused, but ringing them up anyway* “In the article, the picture?” *tells them the total*

Female Customer: *starts to look upset and gestures angrily at the page* “I’m in the armed forces; I served.”

Me: *giving her her change, visibly confused but smiling* “T-Thank you for your service. Would you like your receipt?”

Female Customer: *scoffs, snatches the paper, and starts to walk away* “You have no clue what I’m saying, do you?”

(No. And to this day, I still don’t.)

Unfiltered Story #141656

, | Unfiltered | February 25, 2019

In 1936 my great-grandfather left the Royal Navy with the rank of Chief Petty Officer after 22 years service.  He then joined the Admiralty as a Naval Paymaster.  During the war he was posted to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka).  Much to his chagrin, the authorities insisted that he be given a formal rank and appointed him Lieutenant-Commander. Although he had a uniform, he swore that he would never wear it.

One day a U.S. Sub-Lieutenant needed some information from him and demanded that he presented it to him on board his vessel the following morning.  My great-grandfather went home and asked his wife to lay out his dress uniform.
“But Robert, you said you would never wear it.”
“Olive, tomorrow I am making an exception.”

The following morning he arrived at the U.S. vessel, in uniform, and was piped aboard.  The vessel`s captain, being massively out-ranked by a Naval Lieutenant-Commander, asked very respectfully what he wanted.  My great-grandfather said that Mr ***** had demanded that he bring this information to him and therefore he was doing so.

One hopes that the U.S. Sub-Lieutenant was never again quite so high-handed with a `civilian` worker and also that he recovered from the chewing-out that he will have received from his captain.

Not Clued Up On This Whole Military Racket

, , , , , , , | Working | January 5, 2019

This is a story my mom told me about one of her friends from years ago. Her friend was working part-time on a Navy base giving out equipment to service members using the sporting facilities — tennis courts, pool, gym, etc. The service member would have to sign in with their name and rank.

One time she had an older gentleman come up and he signed his rank as “R.A.” She saw that and said, “You look a little old to be a Radioman’s Assistant.” He looked at her and said, “That’s Rear Admiral.” She said, “Uh, well, here’s your tennis racket, Admiral. Enjoy your game.”

She made sure she wasn’t there when he brought the racket back.

Don’t Bank On The Rank

, , , , | Working | December 7, 2018

Back in the early 2000s I was in the Territorial Army, the UK equivalent of the National Guard. I served for around five years or so before being honourably discharged. One Christmas I put my name down to work as staff for the officers’ and NCOs’ annual dinner.

During the dinner, I ended up working behind the bar in the officers’ mess. One of our “clients” for the evening was a young officer I knew well enough to consider a personal friend. He had just been promoted from Lieutenant to Captain, and so was spending his evening buying drinks for his fellow officers, and having drinks bought for him.

At one point during the evening, this officer staggered up to the bar. I could see that he was very drunk. “Hi, [My Name]!” he slurred, smiling at me. He ordered another drink for himself. “Are you sure that’s wise, sir?” I asked. My officer friend smiled and said it would be fine. I gave him his drink.

A few minutes later, the duty sergeant, who was behind the bar with me, took me aside for a “chat.” He told me that I must never question an officer, that I should have just given him his drink without question. “But sergeant, he can hardly stand!” I protested. The sergeant nodded sadly. “I can see that,” he said. “But you’re a private, and he’s a newly-promoted captain.” I sighed, shrugged and said, “Okay, sergeant.”

The next morning I learnt what had happened to my officer friend. He was leaving the officers’ mess, tripped, fell down a flight of stairs, and ended up in hospital with a fractured skull.

I learnt two things that night: 1. Just because someone wears a rank it doesn’t mean they always behave responsibly or are always right. 2. Rules are often necessary to create order, but sometimes, rules are complete bulls***.

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