Digital Insights
Deep thoughts on the ever-evolving world of new and emerging mediaJamie’s Life Story
Part 1
Life was slow after graduating from Burrillville High School in 1994 through the years leading up to 1998. My future was uncertain. I didn’t know who I was, where I was going, or who I wanted to be. I worked a few odd jobs, trying to excel, but never really knowing where my passion lay. I knew I was very interested in writing, but on the same token, I also knew that college was a nagging prerequisite if I were to take my interest further. After a few sluggish swings at the Community College of Rhode Island (CCRI), I just could not seem to find my academic footing.
In short, I wasn’t ready… for life.
But, at 22, I landed a job at my local newspaper—the Woonsocket Call—working as a full-time classified advertising sales representative. The job was challenging at first, and there even seemed to be a wee bit of prestige associated with working for a newspaper. Sure, I wasn’t a writer per say, but the job paid well. I also had a new girlfriend, my own car, and I was living rent-free with my parents. Life, it seemed for me at the time, was starting.
Then, one day, I mustered the courage to ask the advertising director—my boss—about the prospect of freelance writing for the paper part-time. He respectfully shot me down in an instant, feeding me a line about how the newspaper couldn’t employ one person for two different jobs. Needless to say, I was crushed—all evidence to a quick fact that I needed something more. It was then that I realized having only a pocketful of promise, I needed to do something meaningful with my life—something I could be proud of. And if I couldn’t write—the only thing I felt remotely passionate about—well, then it was going to have to be onward and upward…some way…some how.
That same day, I left work and my car seemed to know I was on a mission, despite the fact that I was unsure as to what that mission was exactly. In 10 minutes, I found myself at the nearest Armed Services recruiting office. Greeting me first was the Navy. It was a short conversation. Something just didn’t feel right. I don’t know if it was the overwhelming feeling of becoming just another number, or if the recruiter was simply trying to call it a day. Either way, something was off. Next, was the Air Force. The recruiter glued himself to the desperation oozing from my words, but he could not promise me anything. He informed me that upon completion of the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB), I would be able to choose seven jobs, of which, only one the Air Force would place me in, according to their needs at the time. So, becoming a journalist in the Air Force could happen, but I had one-in-seven odds. I wasn’t brilliant, but I also wasn’t entirely gullible either. So, I moved on.
The next 30 minutes proved to be critical. I was already at my wit’s end. The Army recruiter sat me down. He explained everything the Army had to offer: the bonuses, the travel, and all the “cool” things I could do—most of all that I could pick the job I most wanted and if there was an opening, it would be mine. So, after sharing with him my sudden ambition to become a journalist for the military, and answering a few basic questions successfully, we closed our meeting with an appointment to complete paperwork the next day. And after a couple more meetings in Rhode Island and Massachusetts, I broke the news to my girlfriend, and then to my parents. Despite their shock, I was scheduled to leave in three weeks to Fort Knoxfor basic training in the U.S. Army. And leave I did. I didn’t get my “dream” job as a journalist. “The job just got filled,” a high-ranking officer informed me during my typing test. But, after scoring highly on the ASVAB, I had five pages of jobs to choose from. Ultimately, I would gear up for a four-year stint in the Army as a Psychological Operations Specialist, or, what is more popularly know in military-speak as a 37-F (thirty-seven foxtrot).
…to be continued
Part 2 (coming soon…)
very interesting profile….It points to success….