Becareful what you sign for

Let it always be said that you should only fill in a form if you know what your are filling in. Never more is this true than when you walk into the Army Careers office.

Back when a certain college was giving me the silent treatment, not telling me whether I'd be spending the next year with them, my former boss's sister (whose husband is in the army) convinced me to go to the army careers office. I'd been thinking about the Royal Engineers for a little while since:

a) it's a good way to get trained up in practical things (carpentry, metalwork, brickwork etc)

b) I probably wouldn't have to think about money matters at all

c) it would get my life going somewhere

d) they take anyone

So I hopped on the train and trundled down to see them hoping to get some information on the Royal Engineers and army life in general.

The place was very post-modern-castle-esque with two glass portcullises and arrow slots in the wall between them. Having been buzzed in the gatekeeper hobbled around and said "Want a chat eh?" told my to sit down and pulled out a form from the bowels of the desk separating us. As he was explaining what this form was, I spotted the assault rifle above his head on the wall and for the next thirty seconds imagined myself taking on all of the armed bastards in the world singlehandedly (if you're male this shouldn't come as a surprise to you, if you're female, well you've learned something about male nature). A pen thrust into my hand broke my reverie and the gatekeeper hobbled off to finish the bun he was eating. But no ordinary bun: a MAN bun, an army bun, a bun made of six tonnes of gravel and thirteen tonnes of cement iced with a layer of agent orange and napalm.

Though I had vanquished the world of evil, I had no idea what the form was for. Assuming it was for a mailing list and thinking the only consequence of filling it in would be some junk mail every now and then. So I filled the form in.

The gatekeeper returned carrying a sixty gallon barrel of coffee, took a look at my form and said what good grades I had for A-Levels, something I love hearing as I did shite.

As he was talking over the next few minutes, giving me some strange and unasked for information, it finally dawned on me what the form was.

I had just signed up for the army.

Somehow, with out actually saying it (for I didn't want to look like an ignorant idiot), I told the gatekeeper I was only after information. Looking crestfallen as he wouldn't get his commission he ambled around the gatehouse picking up various brochures. Then a gleam of light flashed in his eyes. He clutched the form to his chest and said "I'll keep this and if you're still interested (after reading the brochures) give us a call and we'll get the ball rolling".

After this point I was just trying to get back into the real world and made non-committal psuedo-words to shorten the conversation.

Now back in the real world I'm kind of AWOL. A few weeks after that I got a voice mail from the Army Careers office with a slathering voice saying "Join us. Join us" followed by is the vocal equivalent of small type "If we don't hear from you in seven days we'll assume you are no longer interested in the army".

Definitely more than seven days later I got the same message. And this morning I've got it in writing.

Dear Yeti

I have tried to call you on the given telephone number but there was no reply. Please could you give me a call within the next 7 days to continue with your application for the HM Forces.

Yours sincerely

The Gatekeeper

How desperate can you be? It's not as if we bought a puppy together.

It would seem I'm deeply embedded in Her Majesty's Computer System, so if you don't hear from me in a while you'll know where I am.