July 1, 2024
The Subpar Group received the following reader submission as part of a SUBPAR SkillBridge application. We’re looking forward to bringing on a new member to the team. This post is brought to you by the same writer who wrote Dear Subpar Group - How Should I Spend My Bonus
I woke up this morning to go run (read: jog) with my roommate and enjoy the 62-degree weather in DC. It didn’t occur to me until after our cooldown that today marks ten years in the Navy for me and those of us who showed up for boat school on July 1, 2014. And before you shout at me that “college doesn’t count as time in service,” I’m well aware of that, but it’s been ten years since we raised our right hands and put a uniform on for the first time, so forgive me for feeling a little nostalgic.
Let’s make a few comparisons between July 1, 2014, and July 1, 2024. For starters, I’m on the rooftop of my apartment complex enjoying a glass of wine, and ten years ago I was sick to my stomach with nerves and nursing a yellow Gatorade in King Hall. My hair is a lot longer, my nails are pink, my sense of humor has darkened, and I’m qualified in submarines. The list goes on but you get it.
I also realized that some things don’t change - and that applies to something I heard on my very first day, yelled in my general direction by my Company Commander: plebe summer never ends.
I’ve been in denial for a while. You finally make it past plebe summer to the academic year and you think “WOW life is GOOD.” Maybe not GOOD but at least BETTER. Milestone after milestone comes and goes and it’s taken me ten years, but after some careful observation, I’ve finally accepted that plebe summer never ends.
Examples:
I work for an Admiral and he stands duty. The guy has been in the Navy for almost forty years and he’s still expected to sign up for a week on the Admiral Duty Watchbill. Plebe summer never ends, watchbills don’t either, and I’m still finding myself trying to get on the good side of the adjutant.
I watched the same admiral get back late from a meeting today and change from khakis to whites in under two minutes.
I had to get my khaki pants altered today. Will I ever have a uniform that fits me correctly? Doubtful.
A couple months ago one of my plebe summer detailers walked past my office, and I swear to you my heart rate skyrocketed. We were both LTs, I had no reason to fear him and he’s a very nice person, but I still couldn’t bring myself to correct the mistake on his uniform. He had walked away from my desk before I realized I was standing at attention.
I called a Master Chief “sir” in the hallway the other day. No excuses for that one.
That first day feeling of “holy shit I have no idea what I’m doing” resets and recurs every couple of years. First day at power school, first day on the boat, first day on watch, first day on shore duty. I haven’t had my first day out of the Navy yet, but at least that uncomfortable feeling won’t be unfamiliar.
Whatever I’m holding, however much it is, I still subconsciously try to hold it all in my left hand. Even when I’m not uniform, embarrassingly enough.
My beloved wristwatch, my constant companion, broke a few weeks ago and I realized that the last time I didn’t wear one consistently was plebe summer. A particular quirk of plebe summer is that plebes are not allowed to wear a watch. We don’t know what time it is until someone tells where to be, and the uncertainty of it was unnerving. I prefer to be in control of my life (I think a lot of type A people who join the Navy do too), and after ten years I’ve realized that the uncertainty of plebe summer also never goes away.
In the uncertainty of making a DH decision, to sign or not to sign, I had a moment a few months ago where one of my dearest friends and I looked at each other and had an “I’ll sign if you sign” moment, which actually almost came to fruition. We wanted to be stationed together and go to the same SOAC class to better facilitate us living together. That was it. One of my senior mentors asked PERS-42 if it would be possible, and they agreed to put it in writing. In writing, that these two JO’s SHALL go to the same SOAC class and SHALL be stationed together… but. But if we need one of them somewhere else, we will write them different orders.
That was it for me. No mentors, promises, or written contracts take away the uncertainty that we’ve been juggling for ten years. I respect the people that stay in and handle that uncertainty with grace; it’s just not me. I want to wear a watch, know the time, and make my own decisions about how to manage it. That part of plebe summer needs to end.
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Hitting 65 and going on to TFL is the next bonus. Healthcare with no premiums and no copays (except meds and the VA gives me those) is the deferred bonus. I didn't understand it back then either.