It happens to all of us, doesn’t it?

My father spent his entire career as a Marine. He started fresh out of high school and college as an ROTC Officer, went to Vietnam in 1969, was in Okinawa when I was born and I didn’t even meet him until I was six months old. He retired when I was 29 years old. Most of his adult life, at that time, was in The Corps.

Now that he’s into his 70’s, I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing this story. (Although everyone in the USMC knows each other, so I am sure some part of him will worry.) It’s about when he was younger than I am now, and nearing retirement. My mom begged him to retire at 20 years, but they kept getting better duty station offers, and better at delaying gratification for the larger pension, and better at just staying in, so he didn’t retire until he’d served 33 years to our country.

At one point near the end of that long run, he reported directly to a FourStar General who was not quite up to snuff. If you ask Mom, that is putting it mildly. This guy was breaking every rule in the book. Not living with integrity, cheating on his wife, abusing government funds, flouting protocol at every turn. My folks had to decide what, if anything, to do about this. It affected everything in their world, their dinner conversation, their day to-day activities, their moods, their attitudes. The Marine Corps is a way of life and there is a proper way to be a Marine and not much wiggle room there. That’s the life we knew, that’s the life they led for (at the time) 20+ years.

Dad ultimately decided to report the General up the chain of command. He had to travel to DC to meet with the commandant, and give examples of how, exactly, the General hadn’t lived up to the standards of The Corps.

Dad had to feel good about that, right? Doing the right thing?

If only it were that easy

What you say to yourself when Reality sets in

I think the true disappointment came in living with the decision that the USMC handed down. Sure, the General had to retire early, but they only docked him one-star. Dad felt he should have been stripped of all rank and dishonorably discharged. That’s quite a gap.

Everyone I know who’s been in a career for more than 20 years has had these moments of realization. Moments of true reflection; when the workplace is most definitely NOT your savior.

In America, that’s hard to metabolize.

For me, I thought that perhaps I was supposed to be researching the inside of a psychiatric ward, because I was a user experience researcher. That’s far too much to go into here, but let’s just say that Dad’s career as a Marine, through and through, sort of had a little bit to do with defining me and my career persona. I was constantly investigating, researching, taking notes on things, even when I wasn’t “on-duty” – when I had no client, so to speak.

Later, after he retired, (and 16 years before I went into the psyche ward,) Dad found work as a consultant, working for EDS. (Ross Perot’s tech consulting firm that had tons of gov’t contracts.) Dad also worked for the Louisiana Police Department. All of his Marine training played into his various roles post-retirement.

Now I guess it’s important to say that I was only in the hospital for a week, and Dad came from Florida to help me get checked in. He stuck around until I got out, and then went on home when he felt certain that I could, of course, take care of myself. But even though I proceeded to lose that one job as a user experience researcher, I got several more, and continued to work in the field for another six years before dedicating myself to writing.

I don’t know what my point is, and I guess it doesn’t matter since this is just a public blog that no one reads anyway.

Special thanks to 愚木混株 cdd20 on Unsplash for the cover photo.