So in 2000 my mother was dying from cancer. Her organs were starting to shut down. I was overseas and the Red Cross and my First Shirt got me, my wife, and my three kids on a plane from Germany to Phoenix within 12 hours of notification.

We missed a connecting flight and had to spend the night in Cincinnati. Got on the first flight out the next day, but had a long layover in Dallas. Eventually got to Phoenix, got to see my mom, say my goodbyes. My daughter took a picture of me and mom.

Later, after the funeral, I sent the pic to my First Sergeant and said, "thanks for helping my family get home in time."

The Shirt was touched, and showed the pic around the office. Our section commander (a 1Lt) said, "He's growing a beard? Plus he looks drunk." (I hadn't slept in over 36 hours when the pic was taken, and I'd been doing some crying.) "Should he keep his line number?"

So yeah, this asshole was going to keep me from sewing on a stripe because I was photographed out of regs with my almost-dead mother. The Shirt laughed at him and assured him the Commander would laugh even harder.

Some people really are that big of a douchebag.

(Sorry about the too-long story... My mom's birthday was last week, and I've been thinking a lot about her lately.)