Dear Officer Tan
Hi,
How is your sorry life in the army going? I sure hope you're still as sore as you were 2 years ago while we were in the same unit. I really do hope that fresh recruits and privates still cower in fear whenever you walk into a room with that stern, impassive and "I totally can't be bothered with bloody low-lives just because I'm an officer" look. Me? I'm fine. I didn't overdose myself on Panadols after my unfortunate encounter with your wrath. Nor did I prove to be one of those problem cases you always figured clerks to be.
Now, where shall this lead? Shall I begin with my first impressions of you? How about that single encounter with you that, in my eyes, put you forever in bad light? Or the times I could have sworn I knew you were laughing in your heart as you whispered my inadaquacies to Chiefy?
Being posted to a stay-in unit after 3 months of staying out was bad enough. Having to make new friends when enemies seemed to be everywhere was bad enough. Trying to prove myself to be good enough to stay in Chiefy's good books was bad enough. Having to take over the whole Regimentation and Discipline section in 1 month was bad enough. Learning all the tricks of the trade by making phone calls, being diverted here and there was bad enough. And then you came along.
Despite being in the army for only 6 months then, I had already seen some officers with faces like yours. What was I to do? I was just a clerk, a private. I was not a plastic surgeon. I wonder how the clerks in your branch felt. You never seemed to look happy. It was as if your whole life was ruined by this workplace, by the very essense of being in a Headquarters company. It was as if you had no future, only the humdrum office work day-in, day-out.
Then came one of my first weekend duties. You know, the Ops room doesn't exactly require three people sitting and staring at the phone, willing it to ring and picking it up before the third ring. Anybody within 5 metres of the phone can do it. Even lowly clerks. We're not dumb, you know. We even know how to spell telephone. T-E-L-E-P-H-O-N-E. It was a Sunday. People naturally relax on Sundays. The camp only had duty personnel (and probably some workaholics). So I visited the I-net room to check my email. So I stayed to watch some confinees play some games on the computer. What's wrong with that? I was still contactable: my handphone was in my pocket. If the DO wanted me back, I would be back in a matter of seconds. We're clerks, some of us might not be able to run, but we have not regressed to crawling either. Puh-lease... 20 metres? How long do you expect us to take to cover that distance?
And what did you do? You knew that this was the one place I could be. You barged in. You hollered at all the soldiers playing computer games. You don't think they should be having fun while you had to send urgent emails on a Sunday afternoon. You think that they would make better use of their time rotting in their bunks, thinking that taking 20 Panadols at a go is much better than being cooped up with nothing to do. And you shouted at me. You hollered. You threw profanities. (I was not so surprised by the latter. Everyone does that all the time in the army.) You think that just because a person is on duty, he must be in the room at all times. You think that Singapore was being attacked then. You think that the 3 people in the Ops room could actually prevent a terrorist attack in the US. Fine. I cooped myself in the room. I created a character for the short story I was writing then. I gave him all the negative qualities I could think of. Then I killed him in the story. (Killed by 6 x 0.45 cal bullets. But not before he killed one of his most brilliant proteges.)
That wasn't bad enough. You had to gloat to Chiefy on your find. As if Chiefy doesn't know how duty personnel behaved on weekend duties. Chiefy had to oblige by reprimanding me. You smirked away. Why? Why? Have I ever jumped your queue? Have I ever stolen some job interview from you? Did I make away with an inheritance that was supposed to be yours? And what's so wrong with a wrinkled uniform? Why gloat over that too? I don't wear my uniform into camp; I have to fold it up and bring it in when I book in on Sunday evenings! Of course it'll be wrinkled when I fold it! Why? Does your eyebrow twitch uncontrollably when you see a wrinkle on a uniform? Perhaps it's the lack of a rank sewn there. You hate a totally clean uniform? You treat recruits and privates with disdain? Is that why?
Or maybe you're jealous. You think that all clerks should suffer their first 3 months. They should hate the clerk life so much that they'd rather become riflemen. You were jealous that I somehow got into Chiefy's good books so quickly. But the reason I got in so quickly was because she thought that my A level results might prove helpful in grooming me to become the assistant chief clerk. If you were jealous of me getting into her good books, you're jealous of the reason I got there. Working backwards, does that mean that you're jealous of my A level grades? Or do you think that we A level holders are just too soft? That we always find ways to get office jobs? That I'm faking a right knee injury?
Congratulations, officer Tan. You are one of the characters that made my army life worse than what I was. For that, you will always be remembered, and you also get your fifteen seconds of fame in my blog. I hope you enjoy your days in the army. I hope your mannerisms make the army a better place for all.
Regards
Cpl (NS) Jimmy
ORD lo!
How is your sorry life in the army going? I sure hope you're still as sore as you were 2 years ago while we were in the same unit. I really do hope that fresh recruits and privates still cower in fear whenever you walk into a room with that stern, impassive and "I totally can't be bothered with bloody low-lives just because I'm an officer" look. Me? I'm fine. I didn't overdose myself on Panadols after my unfortunate encounter with your wrath. Nor did I prove to be one of those problem cases you always figured clerks to be.
Now, where shall this lead? Shall I begin with my first impressions of you? How about that single encounter with you that, in my eyes, put you forever in bad light? Or the times I could have sworn I knew you were laughing in your heart as you whispered my inadaquacies to Chiefy?
Being posted to a stay-in unit after 3 months of staying out was bad enough. Having to make new friends when enemies seemed to be everywhere was bad enough. Trying to prove myself to be good enough to stay in Chiefy's good books was bad enough. Having to take over the whole Regimentation and Discipline section in 1 month was bad enough. Learning all the tricks of the trade by making phone calls, being diverted here and there was bad enough. And then you came along.
Despite being in the army for only 6 months then, I had already seen some officers with faces like yours. What was I to do? I was just a clerk, a private. I was not a plastic surgeon. I wonder how the clerks in your branch felt. You never seemed to look happy. It was as if your whole life was ruined by this workplace, by the very essense of being in a Headquarters company. It was as if you had no future, only the humdrum office work day-in, day-out.
Then came one of my first weekend duties. You know, the Ops room doesn't exactly require three people sitting and staring at the phone, willing it to ring and picking it up before the third ring. Anybody within 5 metres of the phone can do it. Even lowly clerks. We're not dumb, you know. We even know how to spell telephone. T-E-L-E-P-H-O-N-E. It was a Sunday. People naturally relax on Sundays. The camp only had duty personnel (and probably some workaholics). So I visited the I-net room to check my email. So I stayed to watch some confinees play some games on the computer. What's wrong with that? I was still contactable: my handphone was in my pocket. If the DO wanted me back, I would be back in a matter of seconds. We're clerks, some of us might not be able to run, but we have not regressed to crawling either. Puh-lease... 20 metres? How long do you expect us to take to cover that distance?
And what did you do? You knew that this was the one place I could be. You barged in. You hollered at all the soldiers playing computer games. You don't think they should be having fun while you had to send urgent emails on a Sunday afternoon. You think that they would make better use of their time rotting in their bunks, thinking that taking 20 Panadols at a go is much better than being cooped up with nothing to do. And you shouted at me. You hollered. You threw profanities. (I was not so surprised by the latter. Everyone does that all the time in the army.) You think that just because a person is on duty, he must be in the room at all times. You think that Singapore was being attacked then. You think that the 3 people in the Ops room could actually prevent a terrorist attack in the US. Fine. I cooped myself in the room. I created a character for the short story I was writing then. I gave him all the negative qualities I could think of. Then I killed him in the story. (Killed by 6 x 0.45 cal bullets. But not before he killed one of his most brilliant proteges.)
That wasn't bad enough. You had to gloat to Chiefy on your find. As if Chiefy doesn't know how duty personnel behaved on weekend duties. Chiefy had to oblige by reprimanding me. You smirked away. Why? Why? Have I ever jumped your queue? Have I ever stolen some job interview from you? Did I make away with an inheritance that was supposed to be yours? And what's so wrong with a wrinkled uniform? Why gloat over that too? I don't wear my uniform into camp; I have to fold it up and bring it in when I book in on Sunday evenings! Of course it'll be wrinkled when I fold it! Why? Does your eyebrow twitch uncontrollably when you see a wrinkle on a uniform? Perhaps it's the lack of a rank sewn there. You hate a totally clean uniform? You treat recruits and privates with disdain? Is that why?
Or maybe you're jealous. You think that all clerks should suffer their first 3 months. They should hate the clerk life so much that they'd rather become riflemen. You were jealous that I somehow got into Chiefy's good books so quickly. But the reason I got in so quickly was because she thought that my A level results might prove helpful in grooming me to become the assistant chief clerk. If you were jealous of me getting into her good books, you're jealous of the reason I got there. Working backwards, does that mean that you're jealous of my A level grades? Or do you think that we A level holders are just too soft? That we always find ways to get office jobs? That I'm faking a right knee injury?
Congratulations, officer Tan. You are one of the characters that made my army life worse than what I was. For that, you will always be remembered, and you also get your fifteen seconds of fame in my blog. I hope you enjoy your days in the army. I hope your mannerisms make the army a better place for all.
Regards
Cpl (NS) Jimmy
ORD lo!
posted by Jimmy at 1:22 PM
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