Never Trust Navy Counselors, or How The Navy Fucked Me This Time

[tspencer227]

Often- told Navy Joke:

Q: "How can you tell when a Navy Counselor (NC) is lying?"
A: "Their lips are moving."

Remember back this past fall when I first received my orders to Navy Recruiting District San Diego, and was being told that I'd be staying here in San Diego, working at Headquarters 15 minutes down the road, and just proccessing future navy nukes? I should have remembered that old joke. After all, the NC's are the ones in the Navy who are professional recruiters, both for getting kids to join up, and for duping us to stay in the Navy. Politicians to the core, and VERY much out of touch with reality, since all they know is what they read in the various instructions, and see in the Pro-Navy propaganda videos that come down from Washington. 

So after I flew off the Reagan and made my way back to the states, and after my long, monotonous cross- country trek back to the East Coast, I finally reported to Pensacola (aka the Armpit of Florida, or "Gumpville", depending on who you ask) to spend 5 weeks learning how to sell the Navy to you, impressionable high school juniors, seniors, and recent graduates. Isn't it amazing what a sailor will do for a little bit of stability and a way off the ship? (but that's yet another long story...) 

So the first big thing we did at recruiting school after we finished the check- in procedure was to get our Ultimate Duty Assignment (UDA) letters from our respective districts. Now, after I'd talked to the Chief Recruiter back in November (a Master Chief NC- remember that), I hadn't heard a whole lot from the district. I tried calling several times after I got back to San Diego, and left a butt- load of messages, but nobody ever seemed to be around to answer the phone.  Strange, but I'd seen stranger things....

For some reason, my district wasn't returning phone calls to either myself or the other 3 guys in my class who were heading to San Diego with me- we needed those letters badly, as we counldn't really get much done without them, in terms of planning where to move, etc- but not that I was worried, of course- after all, based on what I'd been told, I'd signed a lease on an awesome pad in PB right across the street from Mission Bay- all ready for the coming summer.  It was miday through our second week of school before we finally got a call through to the Chief Recruiter's desk- and only after the upper chain of command at the schoolhouse got involved.

So what did I learn when Master Chief Leslie finally answered the phone?

"Oh Spencer, oh yeah, I'm sending you to our station in Santa Ana."

I hit the brakes hard on that note. I knew Santa Ana was somewhere in Orange County, but not exactly where. That meant a long- ass drive. 

"Hang on a second, can we back up there? When I talked to you in November you told me I was coming to headquarters."
"...We talked back in November? I don't remember that...are you sure you were talking to me then?"

She was starting to sound a lot like my old ship's namesake during the Iran Contra Investigations. One of my old favorite tactics to avoid culpability. 

"But I've already got a place in San Diego all lined up, and I've got everything ready to go-"

"But I need you in Orange County, so that's where I'm sending you."

Nice. Meanwhile, of the other guys that were in my class heading back to San Diego, one was going to National City, one was going to El Cajon, and one was staying at headquarters to work with ROTC programs. And I know that one of the two Nuke Recriuters there is due to leave in September, so wouldn't it make sense to send me as a replacement (especially considering that it's supposed to be a 3 man office, but is being run by 2 people)? 

Great. 

Then I looked up Santa Ana on Mapquest. 83.4 miles from my house to the station, up I-5, deep into Orange County. Could things get any better?

The most fun part was telling Amy- after all, one of the main reasons I was looking forward to getting the billet at headquarters was that it would give us a chance to actually have a somewhat normal relationship- I'd be home every night in San Diego, and we'd be able to have all of our nights and weekends together. To say that she wasn't happy (and still isn't) would be a vast understatement. Add in the fact that Southern California has the highest gas prices in a country where the cost of gas has skyrocketed out of control thanks to our money- hungry Vice President and Bush's other puppeteers, and the picture's looking more and more like I'm going to have to move to Orange County.

Which has some of the most expensive real estate and highest rent prices in California. Awesome.

Figures.

Comments

[randomuser.livejournal.com]

Geez, you really are getting the raw end of the deal.

On another note, how long did it take you to get from the West to the East coast?

[tspencer227.livejournal.com]

To say I'm getting the raw end would be an understatement, my old friend. :) As for getting from West to East, I went to NY first, so about 5 days...I've got a VERY long bit to transcribe about that later- I got some...interesting perspectives on the states I passed through. Going back, now, I left Pensacola around 11 am Friday and made it back here about 5 pm Sunday evening. And if I'd been able to push myself farther than Tuscon Saturday night, I would have made it back 2-3 hours sooner. Why do you ask?

[randomuser.livejournal.com]

Because we will be driving from here to Washington. We are then going to board a ferry, and end up in Alaska. Matt got orders to Alaska!

[tspencer227.livejournal.com]

Oh shit! Are you serious?? My dad spent several years there as a kid when my grandfather was stationed there- loved it. Who'd he piss off to get orders to Alaska?

[randomuser.livejournal.com]

Yep, no one, we voluteered for them, and got lucky enough to be picked for them. It was on his dream sheet.