Service selection 2.0

Since my son commissioned back in 2020 … good grief, has it really been 4+ years? … I’ve written several times about how the four years along the Severn also served as training for me as a parent.

Whether it’s long stretches without being able to communicate or not having a clue where they are or what they are doing, I am reminded again and again how much of an education I received while my son was earning his degree and the title, Ensign.

The latest reminder came during his last deployment aboard the USS Florida. As the time neared for him to complete his time with the boat, he turned his attention to his upcoming shore duty. Once he began describing the process, it was déjà vu all over again.

Command would give him a list of available options and he would list them in order of preference. Parents of recent grads will recognize the similarities to service selection at the Naval Academy. Yes, there are/were some differences but the basics were certainly familiar.

It presented an opportunity to make use of a strategy I learned since we began this journey – prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

I first really paid attention to service selection during Noah’s Second Class year. While my Facebook feed was flooded with a “he/she got their dream job” or “they’ve wanted to be [insert job here] since they were 5, now they are,” my son shared stories with quite a different vibe. Though a huge majority of Mids got exactly what they wanted, some did not. Some, in fact, received jobs that were several notches down their list.

Noah would learn about this firsthand. He was target-locked on his top choice, cyber. He made a point to talk with as many people “in the know” as possible to get perspective and he said he was consistently told he was a shoo in.

Except he wasn’t.

As I watched my Facebook feed fill with excited posts about fellow Firsties getting the good news, my text messages went unanswered and his social media feeds fell silent. It wasn’t until a full 24 hours later I learned the needs of the Navy determined he would be a submariner. For an avid outdoorsman and longtime computer geek, this one hit hard.

Yet his USNA training helped him move forward through his training over the next 18 months when he went through another similar process, filling out a “wish list” for his boat and base assignment. The slight twist here – he would list six preferences – boat and base – in descending order. He heavied up his choices on the West Coast (that filled the top 5; without other West Coast choices, he picked Kings Bay, Georgia last, knowing one of his top five would come to pass) and wrote an impassioned essay explaining why he needed to be as close to his sister at the Air Force Academy as possible. Side note: It’s often pained me that neither of my kids share my passion and joy for writing, but in this case, he crafted a paragraph I would have proudly called my own.

Then the word came down. The needs of the Navy landed him in, you guessed it, Kings Bay, Georgia.

Raising my kids, I preached a simple lesson about major disappointment – give yourself 24 hours to feel sorry for yourself and have a self-pity party. Then, move on. It’s a variant of the brilliant Dale Carnegie’s three-step approach: Determine the worst-case scenario, learn to live with the worst-case scenario, and figure out how to improve upon the worst-case scenario.

And so he did.

Some three years later, here he was again staring down another wish list. Like he did the times before, he thought about it, then overthought it. During the process, he would check in with me, using me as a sounding board for his logic. He was ecstatic about his first couple choices but already mentally preparing for everything else.

This time was different because this time the needs of the Navy lined up with his desires. And so, the roller coaster ride that began when he first said he wanted to attend the United States Naval Academy continues.