Maybe he’s a former Superstar who crashed and burned. Maybe he was a talented officer who didn’t know how to play the game. Nevertheless, assuming he’s reached sanctuary and has his retirement locked up, he’s reached a nirvana few officers ever truly reach: actually, truly running out of shits to give.
He has campaign medals that no one even recognizes.
Where the hell is Kosovo, or for that matter “Southwest Asia,” anyway? They think it’s cool as hell that someone went from enlisted to officer.
Because of this, it doesn’t necessarily make once normal individuals into lobotomized morons, but it often reveals the moron inside.
Promotion to major breaks up the once mighty pack of company-grade officer peers into several distinct breeds, each with unique characteristics.
And one of those lieutenants also wants to stab the Weirdo in the eye because she kicked back the training schedule twice for corrections because it didn’t use “Lean 6-Sigma” principles and show awareness of the “theory of constraints,” whatever the hell those are.
Carl Forsling is a senior columnist for Task & Purpose.
But as with the stations of the cross, the Superstar knows he must pass through all that suffering for the greater good.
After suffering through the staff jobs, one day he will ascend to heaven with an office in the E-ring, probably while Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” sounds in the background. The Company Man believes that if he does everything right, he still might make it to the top.
The senior enlisted troops are not nearly as enamored, because the Mustang doesn’t fall for their bullshit. If you need time off, how about you just freakin’ say it?