Around Halloween 1989 I had moved to Pittsburgh and landed on my feet to an extent. I found a job framing houses. In mid December I was laid off for the winter and wanted to go visit my parents around the holidays.
I wasn't married yet but we were planning on it. Much to her credit she was frugal and wondered if we could afford it. I pulled out an atlas, laid out the route and said I would hitchhike if necessary.
She crunched a few numbers and said we could afford a train ticket so I hopped onto the choo choo and off I went, with a change of trains in Philly.
On the train headed to Boston I met a couple of guys and we started talking and found out they were tug guys. I was interested in working on the water again so I asked if they were hiring. One of them gave me an 800 number to call and I put it in my wallet. He said I could call and find out.
It was a good visit with the family and when I got back to Pittsburgh I noticed the number in my wallet and decided to give it a try. I asked if they were hiring and the voice on the other end asked me questions on my background of working on the water. I told her I had been an Alaskan fisherman for several years.
I was told to pick up a ticket at the airport the following day and pack my seabag and bring it with me in case they hired me. I tossed my passport in the bag as an afterthought. It wound up saving my bacon. My other half was dubious but dropped me off at the airport and wished me luck. I boarded the airplane and flew off to Philly and was picked up and taken to the tug company's office.
I reported in and was handed an application to fill out. It was about an inch thick and started filling it out. I noticed that the bulk of the pages were for my work history. They seemed to want to know everything. If I had been a paperboy they wanted to know how many customers and how thick the paper was.
As I filled it out I started looking around at others who were doing the same thing and realized I really didn't have much of a chance. They all had seaman's papers and licenses. I had only a passport. I was screwed.
In addition to that, I ran my work history through my head, especially my decade plus in Alaska. I had broken into the fishing business by starting out on a trip by trip basis. I'd work over for someone that got injured or wanted a trip off for whatever reason. In one year I realized I had gone through about 20 different boats.
In Kodiak that could easily be explained and would not have raised an eyebrow but something like that in the states could not be explained. It was lethal. In Alaska it meant I was in demand. Stateside they would read it to mean I couldn't keep a job.
I also knew I'd play hell trying to be honest. I was down in points and the only way I could win was by a knockout. I needed something that would stand out. Something that would draw attention to me and get me in the other room for an interview. As I sat there I saw two long faces leave.
It was time to go for broke.
I got a flash of inspiration. Between July, 1978 and August, 1983 I simply omitted everything and covered that period of time by writing in 'French Foreign Legion, Highest rank: corporal'.
When I had finished I handed it to the woman who scanned it. Her eyes opened wide for a second and she looked at me and said, "presumably you speak French."
"Oui, madame je parlez Francais." I answered. Thank God for junior high French class.
She got up and took my application into another room and returned. A couple of minutes later someone left the room smiling. He had been hired. I was summoned in next and realized I had bucked the line. There were people ahead of me.
As I entered the woman behind the desk said, "Parlez vous Francais?"
"Oui, madame, je parlez Francais. Je suis Piccolo, caporal la deuxieme regiment entrangre de parchutistes," I said. I finished by saying "And I have not spoken a single word of French since I got out of Legion Etrangere almost ten years ago."
She asked me what I had learned in the Legion and I told her that I could clean anything and clean it fast. She chuckled. "Good thing to know," she smiled.
She asked me several other questions about the Legion and I do believe she was expecting a Beau Geste tale of fighting in the desert and Arab maidens but I disappointed her by telling her I had spent most of my time maintaining much of the regimental equipment and that my few deployments had been pretty much uneventful. I figured I didn't want to lay it on too thick and have the whole thing come crashing down.
Never set yourself up. My lie had done its job. This was not the time to get greedy.
Besides I was concerned of the stolen valor issue. I didn't want to be a fake hero and what I had done was odious enough.
Then she asked me about what licenses I had and I said I only had my passport. When she asked for it she opened it and a piece of paper fell out. It was a lifeboatman course diploma I had forgotten about. She looked at it. I explained I had taken the class at the community college out of boredom in case I wanted to apply on the Alaska ferry system.
"Well, that's a damned good start," she said and picked up the phone and called someone. A minute later someone walked in.
"Lou, take this man to Baltimore and get him a Z-card. We'll drug test him tomorrow and he sails Wednesday. Get him a room at the Ramada."
She turned to me, "Behave yourself at the Ramada. You will report here tomorrow for a urine test and you'll sail Wednesday morning."
That was when I knew I had won by a knockout. I had the job!
She got up and as I was leaving she shouted, "Hey, Jeff! Guess who we got working for us now? A real, live French Foreign Legionnaire!"
Everyone looked at me and inwardly I cringed because I knew I was going to have a whole trainload of questions to answer when I got to the fleet.
We drove to Baltimore. Along the way I had my picture taken and entered the exam center there. It was here the passport saved my bacon. The Coast Guard needed more ID than a simple driver's license. I whipped out my passport. The petty officer took one look at it and said I was good to go.
An hour later I had an entry level Z-card in my pocket. I knew it was a valuable document and even if things didn't work out for the tug company I had a very valuable credential and could find decent work elsewhere.
The next day I peed in the cup, filled out the necessary tax papers and hung out, making myself small but available and about noon I went back to the hotel. I did not hang out at the bar. I knew a trap when I saw it. When I called home my other half was stunned and happy for me. She knew if I got my foot in the door I'd run with it and do well.
The following day I set sail on a tug as an entry level ordinary seaman.
I didn't get home again for five weeks.
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Aftermath.
Six months later the tankerman trainee program opened up and I didn't have enough time in company to be eligible. If I recall you had to have two or three years. I asked to take the test, anyway and the instructor humored me and let me take it.
I was already aware the program was going to open and had one of the tankermen coach me beforehand and I wound up getting 100% on it. I had taken the test after I had finished my tour. After it was graded I went home.
About a week later I got a call from the instructor. He was embarrassed. "I just got asked why I didn't accept the only guy that got 100% on the test. Report here in a week to start the course." It proved to be another knockout. I reported in as requested and did well in the course.
I had saved all of my fishing sea time on the proper forms and when I went to the Coast Guard to test for my tankerman's endorsement I sat for not only the tankerman's test but the whole battery of Able Seaman's tests and on top of that, All the tests for my 100 ton master's license, complete with a sailboat and towing endorsements! I passed them all and was issued a new Z-card and a license certificate.
When I turned all of this in to the office they were stunned.
In under 11 months I had almost doubled my pay!
A couple of years later I had made a friend in the office. I had gotten another application and filled it out and quietly handed it to him and asked him to replace my original, citing I was tired of all the questions.
He quietly did and I never heard about it again. He also removed the note stating I was fluent in Mandarin Chinese. How the Mandarin Chinese note got there is another story.
Some time later the company folded and I found myself working for another outfit. I got lucky again. I was nervous as hell and interviewed poorly but got hired on the say-so of another person I knew from the old company.
The application if I recall was fairly simple and I filled it out honestly. By now the internet was up and running and I knew things could be researched easily enough. After the interview and hiring I drove home and met the most interesting person I have ever met in my life which is yet another story.
I have never been laid off or missed any time other than an injury.
This has been an excellent career for me.
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