Well Hiya (bonjour),
This happens to be my first post here, though as a frequent lurker I think I have the rules and regs hammered into my brain. So bare with me, and if I step out of line at any point I will gladly accept constructive criticism. For the record, this is not intended to be an educational post, just one man's experience thus far.
I began my application process about 2 months ago in the same manner of many young hopefulls. Regretfully, it wasn't any flashy ad that sold me on the idea, nor was I influenced by some grizzled old vet spinning tales of "back'in Bosnia...things wuz different". I really don't know how I came upon the idea to finally go through with it and try to sign my life over. At the time, I was working in a bar in downtown Vancouver and getting increasingly frustrated with the kind of society I found myself around. The term "functioning alcoholic" was tossed around like a badge of honor and depending on the season my friends would sway to the "fucnctioning" aspect far less than the later. More to the point, I felt I was going nowhere, and I was frustrated.
Vancouver, great city that it is, is simply not a military orriented place. There is a large and beautiful armory there, but when mentioned 90% of the population will have no clue what you are talking about. It is better known as "that building beside the Molson Brewery". My decision to join up took my friends quite by surprise, but troopers to the end, they thought about it over a quick drink (ie. Jager-bomb) and wished me luck. I decided to move back to my hometown of Calgary before going through the full process because I genuinely no idea what an ordeal it was. So, clicking my heels as I quit my job, I was soon on a plane home. I spent the next week returning my friends calls to remind them that no, I count not go out tonight, as I am in a totally different province. Good work guys.
My first day in Calgary I found my cleanest shirt that was not given to me by a Liquor rep at work to march down and hand in my application papers. Now as an avid reader, and more importantly a fan of military literature, I have to explain my thought process at the time. The majority of the books out there about the military experience are American, the prominent ones anyways. In those a recruit typically walks into the office, or is pulled off his feet outside one and is surrounded by menacing sergeants stuffing brochures in his face. I've had a friend in michigan tell me it seemed like he barely had time to finish the sentence "I think I wanna join the ar-" before the magic genie behind the desk snapped his fingers and he was at formation in bootcamp. Obviously, since we lack the necessary thirst to give rifles to teenagers and encourage them to "Go Git'em", things are done much differently. As you can all probably attest to.
This dissapointed me to no ends, at first.
Luckily, I got my vaccination for Rambo Syndrome at an early age and realized that this process was a very smart thing indeed. This realization was brought upon by a conversation I was lucky enough to find myself in while waiting to take an appitude test.
Fellow recruit (FR) : "I've been trying this military thing for a while you know, The wouldn't let me in a few years ago. Then I tried the French Foreign Legion, but they wouldn't have me either...I think this'll be my lucky time though"
Me: "Oh...wow, yeah good luck man...So, uhh, why didn't they let you in the first time?"
FR: "Well they said I'd have to stop smoking weed, and I wasn't really ready for that at the time...I think I want to drive a tank."
Me: "Neat. So have you ever thought of maybe like...working?"
The conversation ended at that. He looked really upset after his interview, all 5 minutes of it, and walked out without even saying goodbye. How rude eh? I thought we really started to develop a bond.
The interview was a blast too. I had a rather large framed French-Canadian greet me with a slew of Franco blah-blahs. He seemed a little frustrated after recently talking to my new buddy, but it wasn't any of my business to go into it. I made the mistake of answering in the only French words I know when he asked me how I was. Which would be "Bien sir, oui, tres bien...sir". He then proceeded to ramble for what seemed like 10 minutes though i'm sure it wasn't anywhere near in a dialect I wouldn't have any hope of understanding even if I was French. Actually at that point he was likely speaking English, and I just needed to adjust. So after we tuned our babblefish's to the same frequency we got along with the business at hand. This was the easiest part for me, I am young, in great shape having done martial arts my whole life, infrequent drinker, and only have tried drugs in high school. I came clean about everything, made sure to keep eye contact as much as possible without seeming like I was undressing him in my mind, and gave him an accurate profile of who I was, and what my ambitions really were.
Then he started mumbling in French under his breath and I experienced my first minor heart attack. Of course, this was just me being high strung and nervous on account of having drank 4 cups of coffee to wake up in the morning. Remember, I am used to working in bars, 8:00am is a very unfamiliar time for me. In the end, to my relief, he deemed me an excellent candidate. The interview took close to an hour though I barely remember a word of it I was so nervous. I had come to revere the man by the end of it, he was like the perfect cross of Samuel de Champlain and Smoky the Bear, in uniform! At one point I deemed it necessary to learn this man's language and join the Vandoos. Baptism by fire I thought...we'll see how that goes.
I was back again the next day, the guy at the desk even looked like there might possibly be the vaguest chance that maybe, at somepoint, he could almost recognize me. Success! My medical went great as well. I work out 6 days a week, and average 30k of running, so I wasn't sweating it. My eyes are a little off and I don't wear glasses but I was assured that I could be issued a pair of Buddy Holly's at basic. At this point I decided against getting a regimental tattoo as well, since this guy had a big blue blob on his arm that I first mistake for some type of parasite. Although, once again this was at 9 in the morning, and I wasn't up to peak performance yet. My application for the Infantry went through on his end and he congratulated me, saying it should only be a matter of time. I didn't get a drug test, I have awesome hearing which surprised me after two years of constant boom-tsk boot-tsk at work, and I found out there is no good way to cheat on an eye exam. Fooled again.
So thats me up to date, I have been waiting for a month for a security clearance. Consoling myself by looking at every thread on here mentioning those two words. I also make it a point to call my File Manager every week just to make myself known. Pretty soon i'm going to start leaving interesting factoids about everything I have ever done on the answering machine. Persistance is key in these situations.
All in all I am happy with my progress so far, it went really quickly up until the clearance, but that should come in this week. I have never been so excited about anything in my life as I am for joining the Canadian Forces. It's a life long dream coming true (unless they uncover my dad is a closet terrorist, which I swear I never knew about officer), and I am training as hard as ever in preperation. Covering my six in case something goes wrong, I have just enough saved up to go join the Legion. I mean hey, I want to be a solider, and I want to learn French. Mind you that is a last resort, I'm not so sure if I can pull of a Keppi Blanc.
I'll fill you in as this progresses, If you actually took the time to read this whole thing then we are now best friends. You are all invited to my birthday party.
This happens to be my first post here, though as a frequent lurker I think I have the rules and regs hammered into my brain. So bare with me, and if I step out of line at any point I will gladly accept constructive criticism. For the record, this is not intended to be an educational post, just one man's experience thus far.
I began my application process about 2 months ago in the same manner of many young hopefulls. Regretfully, it wasn't any flashy ad that sold me on the idea, nor was I influenced by some grizzled old vet spinning tales of "back'in Bosnia...things wuz different". I really don't know how I came upon the idea to finally go through with it and try to sign my life over. At the time, I was working in a bar in downtown Vancouver and getting increasingly frustrated with the kind of society I found myself around. The term "functioning alcoholic" was tossed around like a badge of honor and depending on the season my friends would sway to the "fucnctioning" aspect far less than the later. More to the point, I felt I was going nowhere, and I was frustrated.
Vancouver, great city that it is, is simply not a military orriented place. There is a large and beautiful armory there, but when mentioned 90% of the population will have no clue what you are talking about. It is better known as "that building beside the Molson Brewery". My decision to join up took my friends quite by surprise, but troopers to the end, they thought about it over a quick drink (ie. Jager-bomb) and wished me luck. I decided to move back to my hometown of Calgary before going through the full process because I genuinely no idea what an ordeal it was. So, clicking my heels as I quit my job, I was soon on a plane home. I spent the next week returning my friends calls to remind them that no, I count not go out tonight, as I am in a totally different province. Good work guys.
My first day in Calgary I found my cleanest shirt that was not given to me by a Liquor rep at work to march down and hand in my application papers. Now as an avid reader, and more importantly a fan of military literature, I have to explain my thought process at the time. The majority of the books out there about the military experience are American, the prominent ones anyways. In those a recruit typically walks into the office, or is pulled off his feet outside one and is surrounded by menacing sergeants stuffing brochures in his face. I've had a friend in michigan tell me it seemed like he barely had time to finish the sentence "I think I wanna join the ar-" before the magic genie behind the desk snapped his fingers and he was at formation in bootcamp. Obviously, since we lack the necessary thirst to give rifles to teenagers and encourage them to "Go Git'em", things are done much differently. As you can all probably attest to.
This dissapointed me to no ends, at first.
Luckily, I got my vaccination for Rambo Syndrome at an early age and realized that this process was a very smart thing indeed. This realization was brought upon by a conversation I was lucky enough to find myself in while waiting to take an appitude test.
Fellow recruit (FR) : "I've been trying this military thing for a while you know, The wouldn't let me in a few years ago. Then I tried the French Foreign Legion, but they wouldn't have me either...I think this'll be my lucky time though"
Me: "Oh...wow, yeah good luck man...So, uhh, why didn't they let you in the first time?"
FR: "Well they said I'd have to stop smoking weed, and I wasn't really ready for that at the time...I think I want to drive a tank."
Me: "Neat. So have you ever thought of maybe like...working?"
The conversation ended at that. He looked really upset after his interview, all 5 minutes of it, and walked out without even saying goodbye. How rude eh? I thought we really started to develop a bond.
The interview was a blast too. I had a rather large framed French-Canadian greet me with a slew of Franco blah-blahs. He seemed a little frustrated after recently talking to my new buddy, but it wasn't any of my business to go into it. I made the mistake of answering in the only French words I know when he asked me how I was. Which would be "Bien sir, oui, tres bien...sir". He then proceeded to ramble for what seemed like 10 minutes though i'm sure it wasn't anywhere near in a dialect I wouldn't have any hope of understanding even if I was French. Actually at that point he was likely speaking English, and I just needed to adjust. So after we tuned our babblefish's to the same frequency we got along with the business at hand. This was the easiest part for me, I am young, in great shape having done martial arts my whole life, infrequent drinker, and only have tried drugs in high school. I came clean about everything, made sure to keep eye contact as much as possible without seeming like I was undressing him in my mind, and gave him an accurate profile of who I was, and what my ambitions really were.
Then he started mumbling in French under his breath and I experienced my first minor heart attack. Of course, this was just me being high strung and nervous on account of having drank 4 cups of coffee to wake up in the morning. Remember, I am used to working in bars, 8:00am is a very unfamiliar time for me. In the end, to my relief, he deemed me an excellent candidate. The interview took close to an hour though I barely remember a word of it I was so nervous. I had come to revere the man by the end of it, he was like the perfect cross of Samuel de Champlain and Smoky the Bear, in uniform! At one point I deemed it necessary to learn this man's language and join the Vandoos. Baptism by fire I thought...we'll see how that goes.
I was back again the next day, the guy at the desk even looked like there might possibly be the vaguest chance that maybe, at somepoint, he could almost recognize me. Success! My medical went great as well. I work out 6 days a week, and average 30k of running, so I wasn't sweating it. My eyes are a little off and I don't wear glasses but I was assured that I could be issued a pair of Buddy Holly's at basic. At this point I decided against getting a regimental tattoo as well, since this guy had a big blue blob on his arm that I first mistake for some type of parasite. Although, once again this was at 9 in the morning, and I wasn't up to peak performance yet. My application for the Infantry went through on his end and he congratulated me, saying it should only be a matter of time. I didn't get a drug test, I have awesome hearing which surprised me after two years of constant boom-tsk boot-tsk at work, and I found out there is no good way to cheat on an eye exam. Fooled again.
So thats me up to date, I have been waiting for a month for a security clearance. Consoling myself by looking at every thread on here mentioning those two words. I also make it a point to call my File Manager every week just to make myself known. Pretty soon i'm going to start leaving interesting factoids about everything I have ever done on the answering machine. Persistance is key in these situations.
All in all I am happy with my progress so far, it went really quickly up until the clearance, but that should come in this week. I have never been so excited about anything in my life as I am for joining the Canadian Forces. It's a life long dream coming true (unless they uncover my dad is a closet terrorist, which I swear I never knew about officer), and I am training as hard as ever in preperation. Covering my six in case something goes wrong, I have just enough saved up to go join the Legion. I mean hey, I want to be a solider, and I want to learn French. Mind you that is a last resort, I'm not so sure if I can pull of a Keppi Blanc.
I'll fill you in as this progresses, If you actually took the time to read this whole thing then we are now best friends. You are all invited to my birthday party.
(RIP)
