My story begins at the end of my high school career. A thriving career which I was the leader of the band, a JV football player, a 1 & 2 mile track runner, Powerlifter, and all around fairly cool guy. (That's what my mom said at least...) All these things were possible because my graduating class consisted of 36 other boys and girls, so they would take anyone for any team. Regardless, I still only graduated with a 2.7 GPA and the 4 college classes I managed to squeeze into and passed with C's. There's no doubt, I was not the best student and when it came time to acceptance letters, my list was very short. I could attend the Junior College in College Station, TX which was 30 minutes from my small town or I could travel to Texas A&M Galveston. This is where those who aren't good enough to go to the main campus in College Station get accepted. This school was 4 hours away from home and on the beach in Galveston. Needless to say at the end of summer 2012 my bags were packed and I was headed to Galveston.
Tragedy struck though about three weeks into the semester, when doctors told me that I needed to have a surgery done to correct a deficiency with one of the most vital organs in the body. I had my small time of fun but it was time to move back home for treatment. I got home and almost immediately got a job flipping burgers and other slabs of meat a local BBQ joint called Mallet Brothers Barbecue. Which I had eaten since it's inception in my small rural town. I made 8-9 bucks an hour and I worked over 40 hours a week every week. Midway through October, I think, I had my surgery done and then began a month of recovery which involved pretty much doing nothing and taking it easy. (No complaints here) I lost 20 pounds and was very skinny after not going to the gym every day like I usually did, so after the recovery that's what I did, work, workout, eat, sleep, repeat.
This cycle repeated itself till the following January when I added 12 hours of college classes to my plate two days a week. The work and working out took priority once again as it did in high school and I failed a few classes and barely passed a few more. I knew this was going to happen midway through February, which is about the time I met a recruiter for the first time.
I wanted to be a Marine, or so I thought. My buddy joined the Marines halfway through his senior year of high school and got to leave a whole semester early. I walked into the Marine recruitment office and told the first dude I saw I wanted to be a rifle man. I was 5'7" and 165lbs of all muscle at the time so I was a pretty good looking candidate for the military. The guy took one look at my left wrist, which had a small wrapping tattoo that said "Watch me live my life." and he said "It's too close to your hand, you won't be able to join. Even with a waiver.". Being a little more timid back then compared to now, I bowed my head and left. They missed out on a decent soldier because I would have left the next day given the chance.
The Army wasn't even my second choice. The Air Force seemed like a good place to go. After all, it was right next to the Marines office. The Air Force took a look at me, asked for my grades, which of course were terrible, and then they strung me along for a few weeks about how I could go be a Para-rescue cool guy if I could swim. They stopped returning my calls and things weren't looking to good after I tried swimming for a few weeks. Running came easy but like many others, I'm a rock in the water.
Staff Sergeant whatever his name was, was the first face of the Army I saw. Probably a little under 6 foot, stocky, Military cropped blonde hair and cutting grey eyes made this guy look like a guy who you want on your side. He was professional, shook my hand and asked what I wanted. I told him I wanted to join and he said he could help. The very next day I went to MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) in Houston where they poked at you, asked you lots of questions (which many of us lied, having some common sense.), and you took the dreaded ASVAB. A test that measures your knowledge of many things and is the almighty score you want to be high so you can pick a good job in the Military. Score bad, and you could end up being a truck driver or some ground pounding grunt, which isn't a bad life but it can be better. Thankfully I scored pretty well for a guy who almost failed out of high school and college. a 134 GT score will get you any job in the Army it turns out, and of all those jobs I picked combat medic.
This cycle repeated itself till the following January when I added 12 hours of college classes to my plate two days a week. The work and working out took priority once again as it did in high school and I failed a few classes and barely passed a few more. I knew this was going to happen midway through February, which is about the time I met a recruiter for the first time.
I wanted to be a Marine, or so I thought. My buddy joined the Marines halfway through his senior year of high school and got to leave a whole semester early. I walked into the Marine recruitment office and told the first dude I saw I wanted to be a rifle man. I was 5'7" and 165lbs of all muscle at the time so I was a pretty good looking candidate for the military. The guy took one look at my left wrist, which had a small wrapping tattoo that said "Watch me live my life." and he said "It's too close to your hand, you won't be able to join. Even with a waiver.". Being a little more timid back then compared to now, I bowed my head and left. They missed out on a decent soldier because I would have left the next day given the chance.
The Army wasn't even my second choice. The Air Force seemed like a good place to go. After all, it was right next to the Marines office. The Air Force took a look at me, asked for my grades, which of course were terrible, and then they strung me along for a few weeks about how I could go be a Para-rescue cool guy if I could swim. They stopped returning my calls and things weren't looking to good after I tried swimming for a few weeks. Running came easy but like many others, I'm a rock in the water.
Staff Sergeant whatever his name was, was the first face of the Army I saw. Probably a little under 6 foot, stocky, Military cropped blonde hair and cutting grey eyes made this guy look like a guy who you want on your side. He was professional, shook my hand and asked what I wanted. I told him I wanted to join and he said he could help. The very next day I went to MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) in Houston where they poked at you, asked you lots of questions (which many of us lied, having some common sense.), and you took the dreaded ASVAB. A test that measures your knowledge of many things and is the almighty score you want to be high so you can pick a good job in the Military. Score bad, and you could end up being a truck driver or some ground pounding grunt, which isn't a bad life but it can be better. Thankfully I scored pretty well for a guy who almost failed out of high school and college. a 134 GT score will get you any job in the Army it turns out, and of all those jobs I picked combat medic.