Ok, the last time I talked with a US Army person wearing a rank of SFC, I was a Pvt, and decidedly subordinate to him. Also, I was 5’8″ tall and about 135 pounds fully dressed and soaking wet. He was 6’2″ and about 250 pounds – all muscle.
So, fast-forward nearly 25 years, and today a woman walked into my office wearing standard issue BDU’s (battle dress uniform). As I was doing her taxes, we chatted about how long she’d been in the Army, where she’d been stationed, etc. I told her I joined back when Ronnie was President, and she said she did too. It turns out, I enlisted about 6 months before she did.
Which means, she treated me as a peer, not a subordinate. Even more, I’d probably be a SFC (or an officer) if I hadn’t developed a bone tumor 24 years ago and had my whole career trashed by a 3 hour surgery.
I guess I’m not really going anywhere with this, but it seemed strange that I was talking as an equal with a SFC when the last one I knew could reduce me to molten goo under his boots just by looking at me.
Boy, I’m getting old. 😉