Over on Slacktivist there’s been a rather…spirited discussion in one of the Comment threads revolving around college life, which got me to reminiscing about some of my own college days.
Mostly it got me to thinking about the period during my Senior year in high school and the summer prior to my Freshman year at Northern. For a variety of reasons, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that I would go to Northern, but, starting in my Junior year, I got a lot of recruitment materials from a lot of different schools. There was generally a fairly substantial stack of them in the mail every day, and by the end, if piled atop each other, the complete stack probably would have been taller than I was (which isn’t saying that much, I suppose).
I also got a lot of calls from military recruiters. The Air Force gave up pretty quickly, as, at least in those days, they never had much trouble getting recruits. After all, they were still flying high on the success of Top Gun – despite the fact that Tom Cruise and company were actually in the Navy.
In any case, I think they really only made the one attempt:
Recruiter: (Yawning) So, you want to join the Air Force or whatever?
The Navy gave up after the recruiter called one night during dinner, and my mother got annoyed.
Recruiter: Can I speak to Jon, please?
Mom: Who’s calling?
Recruiter: The Navy.
Recruiter: Excuse me?
Mom: You can’t talk to him. We’re in the middle of dinner, and he doesn’t want to join the Navy. He’s going to college.
Recruiter: I think I need to hear that from him.
Mom: You’re hearing it from me.
He then made the mistake of asking her what she had against the Navy, which, given that my brother Brad had been in the Navy for years – and his Navy career was a point of pride for my parents – didn’t go over very well.
Never heard from them again.
I don’t remember what I said to the recruiter for the Marines, but it was sufficiently scathing and sarcastic that he never bothered calling again.
The Army, however, was pretty dogged, and the Recruiter called on a regular basis all the way up until the time I was home from Northern on Thanksgiving break.
Recruiter: So, changed your mind now that you’ve had a taste of college life?
Recruiter: (Sighing) You’re never going to join the Army, are you?
Recruiter: (Sighing again) Do…do you know anyone who does want to join?
Recruiter: (Sounding suicidal) Okay…thanks…
However, looking back, there are things that I wish I’d said back then.
Recruiter: Want to join the [insert military branch]?
Recruiter: Okay, I’ll ask again in a couple – wait, what? You do?
Recruiter: Awesome! Okay, well, do you -
Me: It'll be the perfect environment for me.
Recruiter: How’s that?
Me: Well, I love the cock.
Recruiter: You love…what?
Me: The cock. You know, penises. The cock. Can’t get enough of it.
Recruiter: The cock.
Me: Love it. Loooooooooovvvvvve it. And I figure, you know, I’ll be surrounded by it. All these sweaty men…like an all-you-can-eat buffet!
Recruiter: Are you saying that you’re a fa-homosexual?
Me; What? No! I’m totally straight.
Recruiter: But you said you…love the cock.
Me: And how! What, you think that makes me gay?
Me: Look, just because I happen to love cock – and I love everything about cock – that doesn’t make me gay.
Recruiter: I don’t understand.
Me: That’s okay. But seriously, taking group showers and sharing living quarters with strapping young men and their cocks, and me with my impulse control issues…I’m getting faint just thinking about it!
Recruiter: That’s not – we can’t – you’re not –I have to go.
Me: Don’t you need to set up time to meet with me or something? I mean, I have to sign papers and take a physical, right? And maybe afterwards, you, me, and that cock of yours can -
Recruiter: The United States military doesn’t want or need your kind!
Me: …which is what I’ve been trying to tell you for months, jackass. Quit fucking calling me.