from the Korean Army to being published

the blog of an "ex-patriot" writer in Korea

Entry #19: Being a DJ Isn’t as Nice as It Seems

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One of my recent commenters, Fermentation, is a blogger and is currently doing his military service. He calls himself a desk-jockey and I guess that’s what I was, too, a desk-jockey. To be honest, I wasn’t really at my desk much. Fermentation pointed out that desk-jockeys are really just glorified janitors. Because I couldn’t type well, read what the officers wrote, or answer the phone, pretty much all I did was clean, run errands, and occasionally shred documents before I escaped to Afghanistan.

Actually, my MOS was 3111.E. 3111 stands for administrative assistant (slave/janitor) and the E stands for linguist. It’s amusing that I was given that specialty since I could do neither. What’s more absurd is that they stationed me at Second Army headquarters, where I had unfettered access to secret and classified documents. Granted, I was pretty much a deaf mute and so I had no idea what the documents I was shredding meant, but to stick a guy who was forced into the Army against threat of imprisonment in such a place didn’t really make sense. That’s the Army way.

I would much rather have been an ordinary infantryman. While most people wouldn’t mind a cushy office job, those that know me know that I could never survive in a desk job. It’s just not my thing; I’d be miserable. Miserable, a fitting adjective for my Army career. Who really wants to be surrounded by officers that all rank above major? There is a correlation between rank and how big an asshole you are.

I bet the slaves that worked near the pharaohs got worked the hardest. Our base commander was a four-star general. There were many times I wished he was blind. Every time he walked out onto his balcony to survey his kingdom, he would see something that wasn’t to his liking and the order would come all the way down the chain of command to our company. On Arbor Day, we spent the whole day planting 3,000 trees because they were trees he was fond of. I’m sure the members of other units spent the day playing soccer. When he left and was replaced by the next asshole, members of my company were assigned to move his stuff in. The asshole had a huge safe, at least five by four by four. Is it possible to herniate both testicles at once?

To be continued (in Entry #20)…


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