FAREWELL SPEECH

Farewell Speech

Got farewelled at a dinner. I’m retiring. The following is the general gist of what I said or ought to or ought not to have said in my wee speech:

Introduction

I’d like to cover the following three points. Don’t panic! I will be brief. However, the three points are to help you keep me on track. I have the tendency to go off on tangents. Therefore, if you think I’ve wandered away too far, you can yell out the point so that I can come back to it. The three points are Rope, Resuscitation, and Retirement.

Rope

Before I start talking about rope, actually it’s string I want to talk about, but string doesn’t start with the letter “R”, so rope will have to do. Anyway, before we go there, let me soften you up with a wee song, or a bit of a wee song, just to see how you are as a crowd. (Starts singing):

And now, the end is near, (the crowd join in)

And so I face, the final curtain.

My friends… (back to talking):

A wee peice of string was thirsty and wanted to go into a pub for a drink. However, there was a sign at the entranceway to this pub which said: “Pieces of string will not be served on these premisis”. But this was a smart wee piece of string. Brainy! He tied a knot around his neck and did his best Laurel and Hardie and tousled up his hair. He swaggered up to the bar and said, “Barman. Gie’s a pint o lager. Tennent’s lager.” This was a Glasgow pub. So, the barman eyes the wee piece of string up and down and says to him, “Are you no a wee piece of string?” The piece of string stands up tall, he had his kilt on, he was tartan piece of string, and says, “No. I’m a frayed knot.” (Crowd laughs)

How long is a piece of string? Or as we say in the army, how long’s a hoochie cord? We know all about hoochie cords, don’t we? I remember the good old days when we used to go on field exercises with all sorts of fancy swags. There we were at Shoal Water Bay with blue swags, green swags, pink swags, swanky swags at swanky swag hotel! Now it’s all hoochies. Tie your hoochie cord to this gum tree, tie another end to this branch over here and crawl under your hoochie and into your sleeping bag. It’s all great until it rains through the night. Then you’re out there in the pitch blackness trying to put your hoochie on an angle so that you won’t get wet.

In the army we’re supposed to be rough and tough. I’m reminded of the toilet paper (Izal) we used to have in the toilets when I was at primary school. We called it John Wayne toilet paper, rough, tough and took no… aye well, enough of the toilet humour.

How long’s a piece of string? Where does it begin? and where does it end? How long is an army career?

Resuscitation

I retired last year. I did! I did all the SHE stuff. The Separation Health Examination. I went to the doctor, you know, he hits you on the knee with a hammer and you retaliate by kicking him on the shins. I did all that. I even went to the dentist. “Padre” he says, “Do you know that you only have six teeth left in your mouth that have not had any work done on them?” I replied. “Well, don’t stand around. Go to it. There’s still time to get something done to them!” Anyway, I had done Transition Seminars and all the rest of it. I was just about out the door when I was resuscitated. Or as we chaplains would say, resurrected. You know the bit when they put the paddles on people, the defibrillator, and they say, “Clear!” Bang. Well they, as it were, did a few of these on me, “Clear?” bang! “Clear?” bang. Anyhoo, they gave me another year in the full time army.

I started this year (2019) like something out of The Walking Dead, (raspy gurgling sound, dragging dead leg). I was like a zombie. Then I crashed! And they sent me to see the psych.

I asked the psych after about the third session, “What are you treating me for?” “Burnout’, came the reply. I had the double whammy of burnout and compassion fatigue. I Googled burnout. I had all the classic symptoms. Watch out for burnout.

See all you sergeants? You think other sergeants are your mates. Well, they’re not. Like you, they’re competing for the Warrant Officer job. See you Captains? You don’t have mates who are other Captains. They are in competition with you for the Lieutenant’s job, correction, the Major’s job. We can burnout due to competition. Look after yourselves. I didn’t. I thought I was, but I wasn’t.

Retirement

The good news is that I’ve come good. I can now retire from the army all sorted. I write books. Lots of them! I read books. Lots of them. So, don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I have grandchildren to enjoy. I’ll be doing stuff when I retire.

Oh, I feel a song coming on:

… The record shows, I took the blows,

And did it (crowd joins in and starts to sing “my…”, but I butt in and shut them down, pointing to heaven while singing): God’s way.

Thank you.