Having a best best friend. Like in junior high. Someone you could call 14 times in one day and they wouldn't get tired of you. OK, maybe not 14 times every day.
Oh, I have tons of acquaintances. People that, if I call them or see them at church or school, seem genuinely pleased to hear from me or see me. But our phone is not exactly ringing off the hook here at home. We're not turning back s flood of invitations.
And I'm just feeling sorry for myself today, for some reason. I'm a social person, I like to be busy doing things, seeing people, out and about. And that hasn't been happening much lately and it's bothering me. For some reason.
On another note, I had drill this past weekend and I heard something that has really given me something to think about. I thought I knew where I was going with this history degree, and that I loved my job in the reserve as a historian. I do love what I do, in theory at least. I love history and I love the task of documenting things and writing things down so that people will know what we did, what we accomplished. That is so important!
But at the same time, it sure doesn't feel like anyone gives a crap about my work. Unless the history is late...then when the commander and the MAJCOM is breathing down our necks, yeah. But otherwise, no one seems to care all that much. And, I am in a position to never get promoted again.
The way manning works in my unit, there is one historian authorized in my office. That would be Cathy. And she'd have to leave and vacate the position for me to slide into it and be promotable. It's a MSgt slot and she's a SMSgt while I am a lowly TSgt. I get it. But I'm what is called an overage, and as such, I'm an extra person. Extra people should quit complaining and be glad they have a job. It can be pulled out from under you at any time. In theory, anyway. There have been people in overage slots for years and years and they never get pulled. But, it could happen. Extra people also can't get promoted. Even if they deserve it. I get that about being an overage. I've pissed and moaned about it often enough, I get it. If I love what I do, it shouldn't matter to me about what rank I hold. Right?
Except that it does.
So anyway, at Commanders' Call yesterday, the recruiters got up to give a presentation, and I would never have thought of myself as recruiter material, and maybe I'm not, but there are some really good things about it: it's an AGR tour (basically, it's active duty) for 4 years (a FULL-TIME job!), there's a position that covers the area where I live so I could possibly work right here in town, AND the best part....I could do four years, retire at the end of those four years, and get an active duty retirement. That's huge. I would start collecting my retirement immediately instead of waiting until I'm 60.
I've got a call in to the guy here in town to find out more.
Why is that stripe all of a sudden so important to me? Why am I allowing that stripe to define the character of my service, the worth of my almost 20 years in uniform? I don't know, but it sure feels like it matters a lot right now.