I am a Slave. F*CK YOU Army.

*for this post I have decided not to edit the forceful language to better and clearly express my strong feelings towards the military.

(enter the neighbor who comes and passes Greg a brown envelope.)
(Greg takes envelope from friend, has small talk.)

*ding dong*. FINALLY. My Certificate of Service from the army is here. Blah blah blah.. Infantry Officer.. blah blah.
Courses attended: Chem Defence.
Medals, Clasps, Decorations, Distinctions Awarded: NIL
Quality/Productivity-related Activities: NIL

(exuent friend)
(Greg proceeds to go to his room and begins typing.)

We were warned, before the darkest ours of commissioning that we would be highly unappreciated, slaves to the units we were going to. Being a PC was lonely. So hey, maybe 2IC was worse. I'd be sitting in the corner, with a cigarette, counting the wrinkles on my right fourth finger, looking busy sms-ing on my phone but actually on MSN talking to Al in Boston. But it wasn't like that. The 20 hour days were spent opening and closing and coming in and out of the office door so much I think when they get a replacement they gotta get it "prison quality" certified. And you weren't counting wrinkles on your fingers or cleaning out the sock lint from the corners of your big toe. You had men, asking you for advice, sometimes related to whatever the f*ck you were doing in camp, sometimes not. Sometimes just a conversation about life plans, etc. You had to be responsible for their lives, happiness, welfare, anything and everything.

"Um... Sir... you've been chosen to be the Ensign for the unit." In case you didn't know, the Ensign is usually the youngest Junior Officer in the Battalion. He is chosen to carry the Battalion's flag, or Colors. (C O L O U R S. for you British ones. Yes, you, you know I'm talking about, the avid blog reader lady.) As much as I hate drills, I did it anyway. I mean, hey, you get to carry a $5000 flag and get yelled at my Warrant Officers. How much more fun can it get right?

Hmm... What else. I went to Brunei and went for my "Lose 10kgs in 10 days" diet. And went to Provost to learn how to fire a semi-automatic pistol and use handcuffs (well, HELLO...), and went for some other courses.


DO ALL THESE THINGS COUNT FOR "NIL"?????????????? F U C K I NG H E L L N O ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! The clerk who prepared this said "Oh, that's the best we can do. We're really busy." LOOK AROUND YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!!!! ISN'T EVERY OTHER FUCKING PERSON IN THE WHOLE FUCKING CAMP BUSY TOO???? IF YOU CAN'T DO YOUR JOB WHY DON'T YOU GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY HIDE-AND-FUCK-YOURSELF!

(exuent Greg who goes off to have his dinner)