So I finally
let the marine recruiters in the door tonight.
In typical fashion, there was much commotion & yelling as Howard and
Coles wrangled the 3 barking dogs into the back yard, while trying to assure
them, we were not under attack.
The words
"oh there are two of you - just swell" tumbled out of my mouth, while
I walked down the stairs to greet the Sergeants, whom we shall call; Care Bear,
& Napoleon. Amanda, who had provided
a moving "thou shalt not kill" lecture earlier, yet pledged her
undying support, pinched my arm.
As the shouts
from the back yard grew intelligible, it became apparent that someone had once-a-freaking-gain,
left the gate open, and Seamus was on the lam. Amanda sprang into action, blocking
my potential escape route, and insisted SHE would go chase down the disobedient, one eyed, hobbling hound. (she had
trouble catching him - but that is another day's story)
She politely
dodged the recruiters, dashed out the front door, & promptly fell down the
front porch stairs, in an exceptional display of unskilled grace and bungling
magnificence. I, however, was left stranded in the hallway, to choke down
laughter, therefore shattering my "I'm from the dark side - fear me"
demeanor (said in a Darth Vader voice), that I had put on, especially for the occasion.
I led our villains
into the dining room, through the tumbleweeds of dog hair, over the dirty
floor, and offered them a seat at the table.
I almost felt a little something, as I watched them set their pristine
white hats down, on my table full of dog hair and various dirt marks.
I sat down with my hands folded, mouth closed,
staring at their leader, Sergeant Napoleon, and waited to be sold my used
car. Napoleon pressed his hands together, puffed
out his chest, and asked "well mam, what questions do you have for
us?" I leaned forward slightly and said, "I'd like to know exactly what it
is you want from me tonight?" And
yes there is a tiny honor a 47 year old woman receives, when she makes a 27
year old pale at her dining room table.
Sergeant
Care Bear took the lead and started explaining what the recruitment process
was. I had done my own research, didn't really have questions, but was
anxious to see what was in the "Now Get The Mom To Sign" hand book, so
I just listened. I think Napoleon took
my silence as it not going well, and commandeered the conversation.
As he gave
me the "sign now - you'll get better choice of the jobs" propaganda, I started to
lose interest. But when he used the
"I am a recruiter, but I don't care about the numbers"
line, my car salesman hating - alter ego took over, and I said in a polite Sybil voice "well if you don't care about the numbers, then you aren't doing your job".
I swear
I saw the Care Bear hold back a smirk, as Napoleon got a little hot
under the collar and replied, "Well I AM doing my job mam, and blah blah
blah". And since NO WHERE in the mommy
rule book it says you need to fight fair, - I pretended to listen intently, as I
got up, went over to the door, and let Max the giant Great Dane inside, to
sniff his slobbery jowls all over them.
I told my dining room jar heads, that I respected what they
did, believed they would make an independent, successful man out of my devil
spawn, thought all their bureaucratic BS was nuts, that I have grave concerns
about their superiors ability to make good decisions, and that they will never
have my permission to talk to #4. I signed the necessary paper, and my son is
now an official US Marine Recruit
(who has the option to change his mind up until 30 days before deployment .... just saying .....)
(who has the option to change his mind up until 30 days before deployment .... just saying .....)
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