What’s a moment when you realized you were officially an adult?
I stood at attention in the commander’s office.
My left hand clutched a leather satchel. The rolled up map for navigation class stuck out obtrusively from the top.
I had failed a training evolution for the fourth time. By this point, you’re usually done at Navy Officer Candidate School.
Facing failure tells you what kind of adult you are.
Delayed development
But you have to grow up first to get to adulthood.
I grew up with my dad in the Marines. I wanted to join the Marines so I could be like him.
But, after a series of shoulder dislocations in high school and repair surgery, he nudged me toward another path that didn’t take as many pull-ups.
The Seabees seemed great. Build stuff, hang out with Marines. My dad even lined up an interview with an officer he’d worked with to share all the opportunities he enjoyed.
My mind was made up. But the recruiter didn’t take me seriously at first. I had hair past my shoulders, a mediocre GPA, and was physically subpar.
Those were easy enough to fix. Getting my head straight was a different challenge.
Yes, the job I wanted was cool. But the best motivation I had to continue my own story in military was cheap insurance, food, and liquor.
Having such low goals sends a signal, even if you don’t state them out loud. High achievers don’t want those kind of people around them.
Reading the room
That was obvious as I stood on the blue carpet between a wooden desk and two leather chairs. OCS wasn’t college anymore.
The commander in front of me was a formidable man who survived a career in surface warfare. Sunlight from the window behind him bestowed an imposing glow. I remembered SWOs eat their young as he fixed me with his intimidating gaze.
To my right was the navigation class instructor, a Naval Academy grad who disdained OCS. He thought the academic rigor was too low for the responsibility candidates would take on. And I couldn’t even pass the easy version of the exam.
And to my left was the officer for my class. He was humiliated to have to be in the room.
I endured the verbal beating from all three sides.
Unfit…
Stupid…
Lazy…
And I deserved all of it. I had so underestimated how difficult these end-of-course tests would be that I thought I could rely on studying on my own to get by.
They were going to put people’s lives in my hands. It was not something I could make excuses for.
That didn’t stop me from trying.
The wrong idea
As I stood there, I remembered most of the problems I missed were on the map portion of the test.
I had to guide a ship through a body of water using the written directions and the cartography ruler. The ruler was a straight, plastic line with a protractor that attached to a roller so you could slide it at a specific angle across the map.
There was a problem with my ruler, though. The metal roller part the plastic was riveted to had gotten loose. If I pushed down too hard on the ruler, it would throw the measurements off by a couple degrees.
And my desire for precision kept me pressing way too hard. Each measurement got farther off from where I need to go on what should have been the easy part of the test.
I raised this to explain my performance. They called me a liar on top of everything else.
Except I had it in my satchel. The one I was still clutching in my left hand. A man with his wits about him would should have asked: “Sir, permission to demonstrate.”
Instead, I froze.
I just took the accusation. I waited to see if this was indeed my last hurrah before finding something else to do with my life.
The commander ordered me to spell “failure”…
…then gave me one last chance.
Another chance
So, I rolled again to the next class.
But this time, I wouldn’t fall into the same traps. Because being an adult means learning from your mistakes.
Instead of relying only on studying, I went to the navigation instructor for remedial lessons. His disposition at the meeting gave way to eyes lighting up while he walked me through the physical meaning of what I couldn’t make sense of in the book.
Instead of reading with the assumption the content was easy enough, I started writing everything down into guides. My classmates asked to look over them, too, which gave me the chance to be a team player instead of a lone wolf.
And…that ruler had to go. I borrowed one from a prior classmate before retaking the test. This time, I aced the map portion.
That paved the way to my commission and a satisfying start to my career.
Ripples keep going
But that also came with other consequences of being an adult.
I stayed in training a month and a half longer than I should have.
I disappointed friends back home to whom I promised an appearance.
Later commanders would tell me don’t let too many people know that story. I wouldn’t want to be known as less than for barely making it through OCS.
But there were people there who saw something in me and I couldn’t let them down. I owed it to them to push through to the end. I had to acknowledge my mistakes and stand firm with the evidence when the time came.
That was a high enough calling to make a better effort on the next chance I got. Something that’s carried through even now that I don’t have to stand at attention.
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Learn from more of my mistakes. Check out these related posts before you go:
Liberty Begins At Home 
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