The Army Wants You! (But They're Not Sure Why)

It never hurts to be open to job opportunities that have the potential to raise your monthly earnings enough to cover luxury items, like Girl Scout cookies. Or the rent.

Unless the job is with the Army.

Recently I ran across an advertisement for a civilian position at a local Army base. I tried to read the job description, but these guys did things with the alphabet that Sesame Street never dreamed of. It took a Navajo Code Talker just to understand the Job Title.

Fortunately, I’m multilingual. I’m fluent in Southern Baptist, High School Football, and, since Dad served on a submarine in WWII, I have a feel for Navy lingo (port is left, starboard is right, don’t let on that you don’t know which way is north, and NEVER call it a boat). None of this helped with Army dialect, but I took a chance and filled out the application anyway. From what I could tell, I was pretty sure I was flirting with a spy mission to Honduras.

I did okay until I got to the part about claiming Military Spouse Preference. While I appreciate the increase in benefits, I’m partial to the spouse I already have. If he would just kick his underwear directly into the laundry basket instead of straight up in the air like a lunar-bound space shuttle, I wouldn’t even consider a trade. And to be honest, I couldn’t upgrade my present spouse to military status. A milking stool has better knees than he does, and if a hawk had eyes like his, it would starve.

By the time my resume was submitted and approved, I felt like I had been granted Officer status and promoted to Director of Homeland Security. (I don’t know how you feel about the color coded crisis system they came up with, but I can never figure out if orange means to hide under the house or that there’s road construction on Pennsylvania Avenue. The first thing this Mom is going to do in the Official Security Office is install a Threat Level System based on emoticon stickers. If you get more than two Mr. Yuks in the same week, you’re on the no fly list.)

All the same, I let the opportunity go. I never did find out what the job was for. I know now why the army had to give up on that “Be All That You Can Be” slogan.

Nobody could figure out what the "Be" stood for.

Not Working

I’ve been watching the deal Conan O’Brien made with NBC and I’m not afraid to say that he’s an inspiration. He’s gathering millions of dollars to leave his show and not be the Tonight Show host. He might be allowed to take a late-night seat as early as September, but until then he’s hauling in big bucks like a half-ton hauls manure, not to work.

I’ve decided that for my next career move, I'm going to not be a secretary. I thought about not being a late-night talk show host, but there appears to be too much instability in the field. Not to mention competition for the unavailable openings. And I could use some of the secretarial experience I've saved up during the last 20 years fighting the copier wars in my new position of not being one.

There also appears to be a lot more people interested in where you'll be doing your "not a late night talk show host" work as opposed to people who are interested in the activities of your "not secretary" work, who are mainly the people who call on the phone to offer you insurance or sell you a copier or ask you to change your phone service. As far as not being a secretary goes, I'll make less money, but I feel there will be less stress in not filing than in fretting about career advancement opportunities that are not available in television. I’m not sure how long you have to be Conan before you get to be Oprah, and I don’t want to find myself lying around the house moping about the whole thing.

I thought about not being an accountant, but I really don’t care for higher mathematics. I don’t even like to carry in the groceries, much less a carry a one over into the tens column. That’s just too much responsibility for me.

I could not be a waitress, but what if I didn’t drop the Lobster Ferragamo in somebody’s lap? I’d probably end up not getting fired and not going broke and not losing my house. I’d never get over it.

So before long, late night TV will be back the way the good Lord and NBC intended, Conan O’Brien will be cashing his unemployment checks, Jay Leno will be in his old chair, and David Lettermen will be cashing in on the whole deal.

Meanwhile there are worse things. The late-night talk show brigade could not be the head programmers at NBC. Come to think of it, neither should the folks who really are.

Perhaps they could all get jobs not working in Homeland Security.