The path to lemonade, part XII

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To add insult to injury, I got a call a couple of weeks after the results of the Force Shaping Board and I was informed that my records were not in order.

Really?  Really? After I went and personally checked on my files? It was training paperwork or something, if my memory serves me correctly, but all my files were in order before I competed, or so I thought.

I had the option to compete for another board. I thought long and hard about whether or not I wanted to compete a second time. I remember the cadre member that was going to have to assume my duties once I left was highly interested in my decision and he regularly asked me what I was going to do.

It took me quite some time to come to the conclusion that I would not compete again. But, in the end, I decided that my fate would have been the same and I would have just caused more stress and misery to myself if I competed again. It wasn't as if the air force was going to look at the fact that I had already earned my master's degree and it wasn't like my rater could rank me higher. I guess I will truly never know the outcome of the second board, but in my heart, I really do know. It's actually not like me to not fight until the very end and maybe this was a cowardly move on my part, but I don't regret it.

As the summer moved on, Craig and I grew closer together, but it was soon time for him to move back to Georgia. In his mind, he had made up the decision to marry me, but he didn't want to propose yet.  So, he drove back to Georgia and things remained as they were. I was disappointed, ahem, really disappointed.

Y'all, he gave me an o-ring!!!! Yeah, those little black ring seals you put on your kitchen sink.  Not exactly a firm commitment, hu?  Craig actually took me to Home Depot and bought me a whole package of 10 and told me to wear one of them. And he was so proud.

Again, I'm totally not kidding.

To him, it was romantic. To me, it was ridiculous.  An o-ring?!?  Yet, I wore the dang thing, especially when I was in front of him. So off Craig went to Georgia looking for a real replacement ring and I stayed back in Texas.

I had planned on taking the rest of my vacation days (the military has, hands down, the absolute best vacation policy. Add "pro" days to that and an individual can be off a substantial amount of time every year with their supervisor's approval. Man, I miss that!). Anyway, I had about 80 days to take off and continue to get a paycheck. I fully planned on taking all days as vacation, but since I wanted to leave with the next freshman class of cadets completely taken care of, I ended up selling back a chunk of my days. I worked with the new instructor and gave him access to all my lesson plans, slides, tests, quizzes and changes I had made to the curriculum. All that work shouldn't just be kept to myself and another round of cadets could benefit. I don't know if he utilized it, but I sure hope he did! Since I stayed at the detachment working on the next year's transition period, I had days to sell back.

But I refused to be at the detachment when classes started up again. By the time the fall 2006 cadets were in class, my office had long been cleaned out and I was hot and heavy on the job search. Apparently, having two degrees with excellent grade point averages, service in the military and experience well-beyond my age didn't exactly scream, "hire me!"  The job search was brutal. I spent every single day looking for a job and I hired a head hunter. Nothing.


I truly loved being in the air force and was beyond crushed when I had to leave. It honestly didn't seem like a job to me. Sure, there were times when I had to wake up insanely early, times when I had to work through the weekend, times when 4:30 came and all of a sudden they needed the resident PA officer to work on an urgent task, and of course I had to wake up early to PT, but I loved it. It was a thrill and I honestly felt like I was making a difference with what I did in my job. I felt lucky to be passionate about my job. It was truly an honor to be in the air force and I was sad to go.

The day came that I out-processed from the air force. I remember driving to San Antonio and driving off a base for the last time. I was technically still in the air force and would be for a little while still, but I never again stepped on a base.  My time was effectively done. The next chapter was about to begin. I had no idea where I was going to go, what I was going to do, who I was going to do it with or how long it would take before I got a job. But God would provide.