semiotic_pirate (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
semiotic_pirate) wrote2015-01-04 12:08 pm
semiotic_pirate) wrote2015-01-04 12:08 pm
Entry tags:
Veteran Not Found Wanting
Fair warning - heavy seas ahead. This be a long, rambling journey across the sea, and storms have wracked the ship.
In the process of getting an application package together for a new job prospect. Between payments to student loans and other things, what I'm making now isn't enough. I've done the research and I know that I'm making below the median for my profession in my area, and that I'm more qualified for the position (education and time in grade) than the median person represented by that bell curve. I've had enough with dealing with a position that has no opportunities and comes coupled with the need to deal with a passive-aggressive, workaholic manager that expects me to sacrifice home life obligations and balance of any kind because (a) that's what he does, and (b) because I don't have children.
While in the process of getting that application process together I've dredged up all kinds of new and old information about what had previously been packed up and put away from my past, in order to document it for the future (because modern, online application processes are more rigorous, and because of needing to figure out the details of my veteran status).
It's been interesting, parsing exactly what it is that I do at my current company, how much work I've been putting in and the many hats I've - over time - been handed to wear. All this while expected to keep up with my primary duties and not complain. I mean, I always JOKED about doing the work of two people, but... I REALLY WAS, ALL THIS TIME, DOING JUST THAT.
I thought that this would be my main stumbling block. Getting just the right amount and combination of words put into those little text boxes, to describe me as the most promising candidate. Nope. Not even close.
I got into the weeds of the application, and noticed that they not only want you to identify as a veteran, but they now have all these special types of veteran status now. It didn't just have an Employment Eligibility section (are you a citizen, etc.) it also had an expanded Equal Employment Opportunity/Affirmative Action Information section. The usual suspects where there - race, gender, ethnicity - for the usual expected checkboxes for a company to use to say it's "diverse." However, there's now a series of drop down menus (even more serious than checkboxes, eh?) concerning veteran status. They not only want to know if you were a veteran, they also want to know if you are:
- Non Veteran
- Non Protected Veteran
- Active Duty Wartime or Campaign Badge Veteran
- Armed Forces Service Medal Veteran
with an added ask as to whether you qualify as a Disabled Veteran (which, by the way, you can be, but without that status being officially recognized, it doesn't count).
Now I'm thinking... I was activated back during the first Gulf War. I think that qualifies. I follow some links like this one that describes what would qualify you as an Active Duty Wartime or Campaign Badge Veteran via the first Gulf War. Specifically, this section:
With me so far? Okay. In order to discover if I qualify for this, I needed to review my service record. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CONFUSING ONE OF THOSE THINGS CAN BE? No? Neither did I.
I wasn't even sure if I had the records that would be necessary to figure this out, let alone prove my eligibility. To make an even longer story a bit shorter. Yes. I'm eligible. But I had to dredge through a pile of paper I never want to look at again in order to do it, and remember what a shit my command structure during my first stint of service.
Here's a story: Girl, grown in the inner city in a life of dirt poor poverty (don't even get me started on this, as I've got some horror stories, yeah?), after getting a 60% scholarship for a brilliant private school in northern New England, for political science and bright horizons, realizes there's no way she'd be able to pay for all the remainder of what she'd have to shell out in order to actually attend. Plan B ends up being the Army National Guard and a promised G.I. Bill. The last thing that decided her was her new Step-Monster attempting to beat the shit out of her. The Army was seen as an escape from an abusive situation and as a path to college and out of a life of poverty. Our newly minted private will soon get sent off to here. Of course, I didn't know at the time that I was being sent to what 60 Minutes called the most toxic place on the planet, which is the location that is at the top of the EPA's Superfund Site list.
But wait! There's more. Prior to getting sent off for my first of two summers at what is affectionately known as Fort McMuffin, I met the members of my unit. This unit was full of great people. They embraced me as a new member of the unit, as a new soldier, as a sister, a daughter, as a human being to be respected. They promised to be there to help me out, to get me rides to monthly drills, to be my community and family. My Master Sargent took me out in an old Army Jeep and, while roaming all over the base, taught me how to drive (and drive a stick, at that) and we fell into a ditch and laughed, and I drove back out of the ditch, and the moon was high in the sky with silver clouds chasing across the star swept sky, and it was glorious. I was so full of enthusiasm and hope.
Training was training. It wasn't horrific, it had plenty of moments of fun, of strangeness, of everything you'd normally expect. Then I was home again.
The first couple of months of drills with my unit were great, I think this lasted through October 1990 or so. I learned a bit about the job that I'd be going back my second summer to get formally trained on. I was drilling as a Military Police officer, the kind that did the work of a normal beat cop anywhere in this country. It was a great job. I worked with great people. I'm not sure how it went wrong. What happened was some higher up decided that my unit needed to die and that the remaining members would be absorbed into what I will refer to (and many of you will be familiar with in this current environment) as a militarized MP company. These were the guys who trained in "the field" meaning a tent in the woods playing war games and setting up mock POW camps, NOT the ones who work as beat cops on the bases. I'm pretty sure the Gulf War Desert Shield may have started by that point, but the exact details of the timing elude me. I know that during the disbanding of my existing unit, the ceremony itself, I locked my knees and passed out right there in formation. I woke to the concerned faces of my squad leader. I should've taken it as a sign.
Shortly after our absorption into this militarized unit, we went on our first drill. I remember being cold. I remember the big tent we all slept in the first night. That's it. Then my unit was notified that it was activated for Desert Shield. I thought I was going. I notified my school - it was just past the first week of classes - I was going to a local community college for Electronic Technology because I thought electricity was cool and that it would be a well-paid, blue collar profession I could be proud of. I thought, as I helped my unit get packed up, missing my the remainder of my entire second semester, that I would go and bravely serve, duty, honor, country. Nope. I was all packed up, along with everyone else, and I and a couple of my fellow privates were brought into the Staff Sargent's office. We were told, in a bit of a disdainful tone, that we couldn't be used, that we couldn't go, that we weren't fully trained, and that we were going to miss out.
When I went back to the school. My professors gave me excellent marks for the semester rather than incompletes. They told me they knew I could catch up and that I had excellent potential... I had lost hope. I knew that the amount of information that was imparted in JUST ONE DAY would be difficult to catch up on, never mind a whole semester's worth. I also assumed that I wouldn't have the time to catch up, that after my second summer's worth of training, if the Gulf War was still ongoing, I would be going to join my unit. You know what I switched my major to? Criminal Justice. I think it was because my subconscious yearned for that beat cop MP company that I'd started out with.
Second summer of training. Mostly interesting. The usual set of obstacles and classes and field exercises. But there was an overlying tension on the whole situation, with extra attention paid to POW camp training exercises. And extra grimness on the part of the Drill Sargents as they emphasized "Do this, or it could get you killed" especially during the chemical warfare portions of the training. All this, and my DS's and platoon mates had to hold me down to keep me from deserting a week or so before graduation, when I was told over the phone that my Step-Monster had severely beaten my Mother when she was eight months pregnant with my second of three younger siblings. Yeah. Still in poverty here. Maybe I should've listened to the voice that told me to switch over to Active Duty while there in training rather than staying NG, since I was pretty sure I was getting shipped off anyway.
Got back to the hovel apartment that I shared with my family, at least I had my own room I could shut myself in to partially escape the screaming. Reported in with my unit, and damn was I proud of my first car. It was a 1979 Ford Mustang, primer grey, but it ran well. All this time, I'd been exchanging letters with friends in the unit, sending care packages of needed items. All this time I was hoping for my chance to be a part of my team, to serve honor, duty, country.
I was told in no uncertain terms that the unit would not need those of us who remained behind because of training, that they would be coming back soon (it would be over three months until their return) and that it would've be worth it to send us over. We were devastated, to say the least.
Criminal Justice was interesting. Constitutional Law was my favorite subject. I was in my penultimate semester when the shit hit the fan. A number of unfortunate circumstances occurred:
My car's engine seized after coming back from a road trip because the person who did the oil change just prior to the trip hand tightened the oil pan cap which ended up falling out, allowing the oil to drain out of my engine all over the highway at 2am. I was fortunate to be found by a state trooper (in my party dress) and he waited with me while we waited for a tow truck to arrive. I never saw the car again, as, being then ignorant about the workings of a car I had no idea that it was something I could've gotten remunerated for, getting the engine rebuilt and the car back on the road.
The boyfriend, who's apartment I'd moved into partway into the semester (let me be honest with myself, I liked him but it was mostly an escape route from my Step-Monster), lost his job. He was laid off by the lumber yard he'd been working at for years.
My unit came back.
Someone in my chain of command decided it would be better to reorganize the unit. All of the people who were left behind got mixed into the rest of the unit. I don't know if this was done purposefully or not, but the platoon and squad I was assigned to didn't even have ONE person from my old, original unit.
There I was. Practically penniless, without transportation, surrounded by people who looked down on me, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get out there on the sand and join them in whatever they were doing out there. I couldn't get a ride in to drill because it was decided to drill the unit, not as a whole, but in components of partial platoons. I couldn't convince any of the people that I was drilling with to get me a ride. The closest one to me lived twenty miles away and he was an entitled, suburban bred piece of shit. I didn't know who to talk to.
When it comes down to it, I don't know the exact reason why things were done or why things happened this way. I just know that I didn't know how to find my way out of my situation or how to make things better. Did you know that if you fail to appear at nine drills within a 365 day period, they'll discharge you from the service?
I was given a General Discharge for failing to appear and unsatisfactory.
I was unable to complete my Associate's in Criminal Justice because I couldn't afford the fees and to buy books, even if I was willing to walk the miles it took to get to campus every day, hoping I wouldn't get kicked out of the apartment I was living in with said unemployed boyfriend.
Life went on. I occasionally found happiness. I got a job. I had a son. Got married. Lost my son. Lost my husband. Life was empty and meaningless. I received funds from an insurance policy. I found myself in a relationship with someone who was mentally and emotionally abusing me.
I left the asshole and re-enlisted. Are you noticing a pattern?
This time around I went to Texas for training. I became a medic. I got top marks and commendations in my record. I got extra training to specialize in hearing testing. I got licensed and started working as an EMT. These people, the ones in my new National Guard unit, they wanted to be my family. They were ready to embrace me, but I couldn't feel enough to want to be embraced or to get up the courage to embrace them back. Major Depression had me in its clutches.
I was given an Honorable Discharge, with a reason for separation being "Incompatible Occupation" because being an EMT was vital, etc. Etc. Even on my way out, they protected me and made sure that I would eventually be okay (as far as my military records went) if I could find my way out again.
With that insurance money I started building a life, on the bones of my loved ones. I went back to college. I got a degree. I had another brush with depression. I got another degree. I've got a Master's Degree now, and I'm telling myself I'll never go back to a life of poverty, even as student loan debt weighs me down and sucks away a great deal of my take-home income every month.
That's how I got to the point I'm at now. Several years into the job I got before I even graduated with that Master's, I'm realizing that I'm being underpaid and I'm not feeling respected and valued - even though I was a key person in getting record profits from our "unit" for the past three years. Yeah. My department calls itself a Unit... I'm just noticing how bizarre that is and the dissonance I feel thinking about it in relation to the other units I've been involved with.
So. After all that... I ask you to wish me luck. Thanks for listening. It felt good to get that out after all this time. Maybe I'll get an interview. Maybe I'll get a new job. I've got a few plans on how to navigate the next few months and years. I've still got dreams for my future. Let's see what happens next.
In the process of getting an application package together for a new job prospect. Between payments to student loans and other things, what I'm making now isn't enough. I've done the research and I know that I'm making below the median for my profession in my area, and that I'm more qualified for the position (education and time in grade) than the median person represented by that bell curve. I've had enough with dealing with a position that has no opportunities and comes coupled with the need to deal with a passive-aggressive, workaholic manager that expects me to sacrifice home life obligations and balance of any kind because (a) that's what he does, and (b) because I don't have children.
While in the process of getting that application process together I've dredged up all kinds of new and old information about what had previously been packed up and put away from my past, in order to document it for the future (because modern, online application processes are more rigorous, and because of needing to figure out the details of my veteran status).
It's been interesting, parsing exactly what it is that I do at my current company, how much work I've been putting in and the many hats I've - over time - been handed to wear. All this while expected to keep up with my primary duties and not complain. I mean, I always JOKED about doing the work of two people, but... I REALLY WAS, ALL THIS TIME, DOING JUST THAT.
I thought that this would be my main stumbling block. Getting just the right amount and combination of words put into those little text boxes, to describe me as the most promising candidate. Nope. Not even close.
I got into the weeds of the application, and noticed that they not only want you to identify as a veteran, but they now have all these special types of veteran status now. It didn't just have an Employment Eligibility section (are you a citizen, etc.) it also had an expanded Equal Employment Opportunity/Affirmative Action Information section. The usual suspects where there - race, gender, ethnicity - for the usual expected checkboxes for a company to use to say it's "diverse." However, there's now a series of drop down menus (even more serious than checkboxes, eh?) concerning veteran status. They not only want to know if you were a veteran, they also want to know if you are:
- Non Veteran
- Non Protected Veteran
- Active Duty Wartime or Campaign Badge Veteran
- Armed Forces Service Medal Veteran
with an added ask as to whether you qualify as a Disabled Veteran (which, by the way, you can be, but without that status being officially recognized, it doesn't count).
Now I'm thinking... I was activated back during the first Gulf War. I think that qualifies. I follow some links like this one that describes what would qualify you as an Active Duty Wartime or Campaign Badge Veteran via the first Gulf War. Specifically, this section:
A word about Gulf War Preference
The Defense Authorization Act of Fiscal Year 1998 (Public Law 105-85) of November 18, 1997, contains a provision (section 1102 of Title XI) which accords Veterans' preference to everyone who served on active duty during the period beginning August 2, 1990, and ending January 2, 1992, provided, of course, the veteran is otherwise eligible.
This means that anyone who served on active duty during the Gulf War, regardless or where of for how long, is entitled to preference if otherwise eligible (i.e., have been separated under honorable conditions and served continuously for a minimum of 24 months or the full period for which called or ordered to active duty). This applies not only to candidates seeking employment, but to Federal employees who may be affected by reduction in force, as well.
Questions and Answers about Gulf War Preference
Public Law 105-85 of November 18, 1997, contains a provision (section 1102 of Title XI) which accords Veterans' preference to anyone who served on active duty, anywhere in the world, for any length of time between August 2, 1990, and January 2, 1992, provided the person is "otherwise eligible." What does "otherwise eligible" mean, here?
It means the person must have been separated from the service under honorable conditions and have served continuously for a minimum of 24 months or the full period for which called or ordered to active duty. For example, someone who enlisted in the Army and was serving on active duty when the Gulf War broke out on Aug 2, 1990, would have to complete a minimum of 24 months service to be eligible for preference. On the other hand a Reservist who was called to active duty for a month and spent all his time at the Pentagon before being released would also be eligible. What the law did was to add an additional paragraph (C) covering Gulf War veterans to 5 U.S.C. 2108(1) (on who is eligible for preference). But, significantly, the law made no other changes to existing law. In particular, it did not change paragraph (4) of section 2108 (the Dual Compensation Act of 1973), which severely restricts preference entitlement for retired officers at the rank of Major and above. When the Dual Compensation Act was under consideration, there was extensive debate in Congress as to who should be entitled to preference. Congress basically compromised by giving preference in appointment to most retired military members (except for "high-ranking officers" who were not considered to need it), but severely limiting preference in RIF for all retired military because they had already served one career and should not have preference in the event of layoffs.
So, "otherwise eligible" means that the individual must be eligible under existing law.
With me so far? Okay. In order to discover if I qualify for this, I needed to review my service record. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CONFUSING ONE OF THOSE THINGS CAN BE? No? Neither did I.
I wasn't even sure if I had the records that would be necessary to figure this out, let alone prove my eligibility. To make an even longer story a bit shorter. Yes. I'm eligible. But I had to dredge through a pile of paper I never want to look at again in order to do it, and remember what a shit my command structure during my first stint of service.
Here's a story: Girl, grown in the inner city in a life of dirt poor poverty (don't even get me started on this, as I've got some horror stories, yeah?), after getting a 60% scholarship for a brilliant private school in northern New England, for political science and bright horizons, realizes there's no way she'd be able to pay for all the remainder of what she'd have to shell out in order to actually attend. Plan B ends up being the Army National Guard and a promised G.I. Bill. The last thing that decided her was her new Step-Monster attempting to beat the shit out of her. The Army was seen as an escape from an abusive situation and as a path to college and out of a life of poverty. Our newly minted private will soon get sent off to here. Of course, I didn't know at the time that I was being sent to what 60 Minutes called the most toxic place on the planet, which is the location that is at the top of the EPA's Superfund Site list.
But wait! There's more. Prior to getting sent off for my first of two summers at what is affectionately known as Fort McMuffin, I met the members of my unit. This unit was full of great people. They embraced me as a new member of the unit, as a new soldier, as a sister, a daughter, as a human being to be respected. They promised to be there to help me out, to get me rides to monthly drills, to be my community and family. My Master Sargent took me out in an old Army Jeep and, while roaming all over the base, taught me how to drive (and drive a stick, at that) and we fell into a ditch and laughed, and I drove back out of the ditch, and the moon was high in the sky with silver clouds chasing across the star swept sky, and it was glorious. I was so full of enthusiasm and hope.
Training was training. It wasn't horrific, it had plenty of moments of fun, of strangeness, of everything you'd normally expect. Then I was home again.
The first couple of months of drills with my unit were great, I think this lasted through October 1990 or so. I learned a bit about the job that I'd be going back my second summer to get formally trained on. I was drilling as a Military Police officer, the kind that did the work of a normal beat cop anywhere in this country. It was a great job. I worked with great people. I'm not sure how it went wrong. What happened was some higher up decided that my unit needed to die and that the remaining members would be absorbed into what I will refer to (and many of you will be familiar with in this current environment) as a militarized MP company. These were the guys who trained in "the field" meaning a tent in the woods playing war games and setting up mock POW camps, NOT the ones who work as beat cops on the bases. I'm pretty sure the Gulf War Desert Shield may have started by that point, but the exact details of the timing elude me. I know that during the disbanding of my existing unit, the ceremony itself, I locked my knees and passed out right there in formation. I woke to the concerned faces of my squad leader. I should've taken it as a sign.
Shortly after our absorption into this militarized unit, we went on our first drill. I remember being cold. I remember the big tent we all slept in the first night. That's it. Then my unit was notified that it was activated for Desert Shield. I thought I was going. I notified my school - it was just past the first week of classes - I was going to a local community college for Electronic Technology because I thought electricity was cool and that it would be a well-paid, blue collar profession I could be proud of. I thought, as I helped my unit get packed up, missing my the remainder of my entire second semester, that I would go and bravely serve, duty, honor, country. Nope. I was all packed up, along with everyone else, and I and a couple of my fellow privates were brought into the Staff Sargent's office. We were told, in a bit of a disdainful tone, that we couldn't be used, that we couldn't go, that we weren't fully trained, and that we were going to miss out.
When I went back to the school. My professors gave me excellent marks for the semester rather than incompletes. They told me they knew I could catch up and that I had excellent potential... I had lost hope. I knew that the amount of information that was imparted in JUST ONE DAY would be difficult to catch up on, never mind a whole semester's worth. I also assumed that I wouldn't have the time to catch up, that after my second summer's worth of training, if the Gulf War was still ongoing, I would be going to join my unit. You know what I switched my major to? Criminal Justice. I think it was because my subconscious yearned for that beat cop MP company that I'd started out with.
Second summer of training. Mostly interesting. The usual set of obstacles and classes and field exercises. But there was an overlying tension on the whole situation, with extra attention paid to POW camp training exercises. And extra grimness on the part of the Drill Sargents as they emphasized "Do this, or it could get you killed" especially during the chemical warfare portions of the training. All this, and my DS's and platoon mates had to hold me down to keep me from deserting a week or so before graduation, when I was told over the phone that my Step-Monster had severely beaten my Mother when she was eight months pregnant with my second of three younger siblings. Yeah. Still in poverty here. Maybe I should've listened to the voice that told me to switch over to Active Duty while there in training rather than staying NG, since I was pretty sure I was getting shipped off anyway.
Got back to the hovel apartment that I shared with my family, at least I had my own room I could shut myself in to partially escape the screaming. Reported in with my unit, and damn was I proud of my first car. It was a 1979 Ford Mustang, primer grey, but it ran well. All this time, I'd been exchanging letters with friends in the unit, sending care packages of needed items. All this time I was hoping for my chance to be a part of my team, to serve honor, duty, country.
I was told in no uncertain terms that the unit would not need those of us who remained behind because of training, that they would be coming back soon (it would be over three months until their return) and that it would've be worth it to send us over. We were devastated, to say the least.
Criminal Justice was interesting. Constitutional Law was my favorite subject. I was in my penultimate semester when the shit hit the fan. A number of unfortunate circumstances occurred:
My car's engine seized after coming back from a road trip because the person who did the oil change just prior to the trip hand tightened the oil pan cap which ended up falling out, allowing the oil to drain out of my engine all over the highway at 2am. I was fortunate to be found by a state trooper (in my party dress) and he waited with me while we waited for a tow truck to arrive. I never saw the car again, as, being then ignorant about the workings of a car I had no idea that it was something I could've gotten remunerated for, getting the engine rebuilt and the car back on the road.
The boyfriend, who's apartment I'd moved into partway into the semester (let me be honest with myself, I liked him but it was mostly an escape route from my Step-Monster), lost his job. He was laid off by the lumber yard he'd been working at for years.
My unit came back.
Someone in my chain of command decided it would be better to reorganize the unit. All of the people who were left behind got mixed into the rest of the unit. I don't know if this was done purposefully or not, but the platoon and squad I was assigned to didn't even have ONE person from my old, original unit.
There I was. Practically penniless, without transportation, surrounded by people who looked down on me, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get out there on the sand and join them in whatever they were doing out there. I couldn't get a ride in to drill because it was decided to drill the unit, not as a whole, but in components of partial platoons. I couldn't convince any of the people that I was drilling with to get me a ride. The closest one to me lived twenty miles away and he was an entitled, suburban bred piece of shit. I didn't know who to talk to.
When it comes down to it, I don't know the exact reason why things were done or why things happened this way. I just know that I didn't know how to find my way out of my situation or how to make things better. Did you know that if you fail to appear at nine drills within a 365 day period, they'll discharge you from the service?
I was given a General Discharge for failing to appear and unsatisfactory.
I was unable to complete my Associate's in Criminal Justice because I couldn't afford the fees and to buy books, even if I was willing to walk the miles it took to get to campus every day, hoping I wouldn't get kicked out of the apartment I was living in with said unemployed boyfriend.
Life went on. I occasionally found happiness. I got a job. I had a son. Got married. Lost my son. Lost my husband. Life was empty and meaningless. I received funds from an insurance policy. I found myself in a relationship with someone who was mentally and emotionally abusing me.
I left the asshole and re-enlisted. Are you noticing a pattern?
This time around I went to Texas for training. I became a medic. I got top marks and commendations in my record. I got extra training to specialize in hearing testing. I got licensed and started working as an EMT. These people, the ones in my new National Guard unit, they wanted to be my family. They were ready to embrace me, but I couldn't feel enough to want to be embraced or to get up the courage to embrace them back. Major Depression had me in its clutches.
I was given an Honorable Discharge, with a reason for separation being "Incompatible Occupation" because being an EMT was vital, etc. Etc. Even on my way out, they protected me and made sure that I would eventually be okay (as far as my military records went) if I could find my way out again.
With that insurance money I started building a life, on the bones of my loved ones. I went back to college. I got a degree. I had another brush with depression. I got another degree. I've got a Master's Degree now, and I'm telling myself I'll never go back to a life of poverty, even as student loan debt weighs me down and sucks away a great deal of my take-home income every month.
That's how I got to the point I'm at now. Several years into the job I got before I even graduated with that Master's, I'm realizing that I'm being underpaid and I'm not feeling respected and valued - even though I was a key person in getting record profits from our "unit" for the past three years. Yeah. My department calls itself a Unit... I'm just noticing how bizarre that is and the dissonance I feel thinking about it in relation to the other units I've been involved with.
So. After all that... I ask you to wish me luck. Thanks for listening. It felt good to get that out after all this time. Maybe I'll get an interview. Maybe I'll get a new job. I've got a few plans on how to navigate the next few months and years. I've still got dreams for my future. Let's see what happens next.