There’s No Such Thing as a Former Marine
Have you ever lent a hand to someone who asked for your help and then they criticized the way you helped them? They remind me of a having sex with a whore. At first you’re happy to be getting laid, but by the time the burning sensation sets in you’re wondering, why did I do this again?
The bad thing is I knew that this person would bitch no matter what I did. First of all, he’s a former Marine. “There’s no such thing as former Marine,” he’d say, “Once you’re a Marine, you’re always a Marine,”; except he was in the Marines twenty years ago and still is hanging on to it.
So knowing this, I decided to take the hard-line, which was difficult because the guy is the person who trained me for his old job. But because of this, he calls me every other day with some random request that has nothing to do with me. So I said, “No, I won’t look for the file that you saved, ‘Sometime last year.’ You can come down here and look for it yourself if you want,” and I then literally hung up on him.
I knew that all I had to do was type in the name of the file he wanted into to search bar and in a minute or so, I would find the document. So blind guilt led me like a Seeing Eye dog down this path of an evitable argument.
I printed up the document that the guy asked for and rode the elevator up three stories and handed the document to the guy. He looked at it and said, “What happened? Don’t you have a color printer?”
I knew the lack of color was going to be an issue, but since I never use color for any documents, I’ve never changed the cartridge. So I said, “I don’t use color.”
He then began to tell me all the documents that I have to use color for. When I kept saying, “I don’t use color for that.” He said, “Well what about…,” and he began rattling off other documents. “I don’t use color for that,” I kept saying, but he was like a pit-bull who latched on to a bone.
I finally lost my patience and yelled, “God damn it! I’m taking time out of my fucking day to give you this shit and now you’re chewing my ass for not having it in color! Fuck that shit,” and I turned and started to walk away.
He said, “What? I’m trying to say thank you.”
I thought to myself, that must be the way a Marine says, “thank you.” First he asks you (or the Navy) for help, then chews your ass for not doing it his way, and then gets offended that you didn’t know that’s his way of saying, “Hey buddy, thanks. Thanks a lot.”