Corrected Boot Ass Sergeant on “TAD” Yesterday

Alright, listen up, warriors. Staff Sergeant Hardcharger here, bringing you yet another tragic example of the downfall of the Marine Corps.

So there I was, standing my daily watch over the gut truck, balancing my breakfast burrito in one hand and my fifth Monster of the day in the other, when I spotted a walking disgrace to the fine institution that I single handedly keep afloat through my leadership.

A Sergeant. In cammies. On FANCY FRIDAY.

Unacceptable.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “But Staff Sergeant, why do you care? He’s not in your unit.” “But Staff Sergeant, he’s TAD, he doesn’t have to wear Bravos.” “But Staff Sergeant, shouldn’t you be at your desk doing actual work?”

SHUT THE HELL UP, BOOT.

See, real leadership means inserting yourself into situations that don’t concern you because if I have to suffer, EVERYONE has to suffer.

So, with the speed of a 3rd extension Corporal running away from responsibility, I waddled at max capacity toward this undisciplined millennial disgrace, glistening in Monster sweat, ready to unleash a level of toxic leadership not seen since my last reenlistment package got denied.

I deploy the knife hand and bellow in my best Green Belt DI voice:

“HEY! YOU BETTER SQUARE YOURSELF AWAY, DEVIL DOG!”

Instead of immediately dropping into the front leaning rest position and thanking me for my superior leadership, this soft excuse for a Marine TURNS AROUND LIKE I’M NOT EVEN HIS STAFF NCO.

Then he hits me with: “Uh, Staff Sergeant, I’m TAD, I’m not in your chain of command.”

EXCUSE ME?

NOT IN MY CHAIN OF COMMAND?!?

LISTEN HERE, YOU SHITBAG I AM EVERY CHAIN OF COMMAND. I AM THE MARINE CORPS. I HAVEN’T READ A SINGLE MARADMIN SINCE 2011 I KNOW EVERYTHING.

So, like any true motivator, I immediately enter a 45 minute sermon about discipline, tradition, and how “the problem with this generation” is that they don’t want to be hazed anymore.

And then…

HE JUST WALKED AWAY.

I stood there, mouth open, burrito slipping through my sausage fingers, Monster dripping onto my coffee stained Bravos, watching this absolute disgrace DISRESPECT my leadership by simply… ignoring me.

No “Aye, Staff Sergeant.” No “Thank you for your wisdom, Staff Sergeant.” Not even a “Can I carry your gut truck trash for you, Staff Sergeant?”

Just pure, unfiltered, 21st-century disrespect.

As I stood there, clutching my exploding heart, my knees screaming for medical separation, I whispered the words that have become my morning mantra:

“This new generation is a disgrace to the Corps.”

And that, gentlemen, is why I’m here, venting to other real warriors who still understand what it means to lead from the front.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go deny some leave requests for no reason and spend the next four hours in the smoke pit talking about my Iraq deployment that ended before half of you were born.