You Might Be a Transitioning Veteran If...

The Transition Assistance Program (TAP) is great. It teaches you how to write a resume, how to negotiate a salary, and how to not wear your service uniform to a job interview. But what about the other stuff? The weird, awkward, and hilarious moments that make you realize, with startling clarity, that you’re not in Kansas (or on base) anymore?

This is for that. If you find yourself nodding along, just know: you're not alone.

...You've tried to use your CAC card for something completely non-military. You’ve confidently slapped it on the counter at a movie theater to ask for a discount. You’ve tried to scan it at a civilian gym. You may have even held it up to a police officer during a traffic stop out of pure muscle memory before realizing your catastrophic mistake.
...You've had a 10-minute conversation in a corporate meeting before realizing no one knows what "O-5," "E-4 Mafia," or "NCOIC" means. You use acronyms like they're oxygen, and you're met with blank stares. You then have to awkwardly translate "I was the senior enlisted advisor for a forward-deployed infantry company" into "I was a... team manager."
...The first time you grew a beard, you checked a non-existent regulation to see if it was allowed. For the first month, you felt like a fugitive. You measured it, checked for patchiness, and wondered if your old First Sergeant would somehow appear in your bathroom mirror to yell at you.
...You refer to your morning commute as "movement to contact" and your grocery run as a "logistics package." Your spouse asks you to pick up milk, and you reply with "Roger, executing resupply mission." You can't help it. Everything is a mission.
...You're genuinely shocked by the price of health insurance. You see the monthly premium and deductible for a family plan and think, "For this price, it must come with a helicopter." Welcome to civilian healthcare. It’s like TRICARE, but with more paperwork and crying.
...You've accidentally called your new boss "Sir" or "Ma'am." The word flies out of your mouth, and you both freeze. You feel like a boot, and they look around for their long-lost parent. It's a rite of passage.
...You find yourself standing at a civilian parade, judging everyone's marching. "They're not in step. Look at that spacing. Is that an unauthorized haircut? Disgraceful."
...You analyze the "synergy" and "bandwidth" in corporate emails like you're decoding enemy transmissions. You're certain "let's circle back on this" is code for "prepare to be ambushed in the next meeting."
...You've created a PowerPoint presentation for a family vacation. It includes a mission statement, a timeline with color-coded phases, a risk assessment matrix (Aunt Carol's political rants: High Probability, Moderate Impact), and an after-action review.
...You're the only person at the company picnic who knows how to properly set up the grill... and you organize the potluck line by order of arrival. You find yourself directing traffic in the parking lot and establishing a designated smoking area 50 meters from the main gathering.
...You still cut your food into perfectly symmetrical, bite-sized pieces. Your plate looks like a geometric art project. You can't help it; years of chow hall discipline are hard to unlearn.
...You're horrified by how inefficiently civilians load a dishwasher. There's no system. No spatial reasoning. Just chaos. You have to resist the urge to take over and demonstrate the proper technique.
...You've woken up at 05:30 on a Saturday, wide awake, with a vague sense of panic that you're late for something. You lay in bed for an hour, trying to remember what formation you're missing, before realizing you can just... go back to sleep.
...You've given your new civilian friends a "safety brief" before a night out. "Okay team, here's the plan. Hydrate. Have a designated driver. Here are the primary and alternate rally points. Any questions?"
...You feel a deep, spiritual connection to the person who refills the coffee pot at work. That person is a hero. A patriot. You make a mental note to recommend them for a non-existent award.
...You've tried to "volunteer" a coworker for a task they didn't want to do. In your head, it's just delegating. In their head, you're a monster.
...You see someone with a military-style backpack and immediately try to identify their branch and rank based on their posture and haircut. It's an involuntary response. You're like a bird-watcher, but for veterans.
...You've used the phrase "too easy" in a professional setting and were met with confusion instead of camaraderie. They don't get it. They will never get it.
...You have a closet full of perfectly folded t-shirts that you haven't touched in years. Each one is a perfect rectangle. You can't bring yourself to just "toss" them in a drawer like a savage.
...You've built a mental pros-and-cons list for every item in the cereal aisle. "This one has high caloric content but poor morale value. This one has good fiber but questionable long-term sustainability."
...You read an article just like this one and laughed because you've done at least half of them. The transition is weird, but it's a shared weirdness. If you've done any of these, congratulations—you're part of the club. It's okay to laugh about it. Now go make sure your gig line is straight... even though you're wearing a hoodie.

This is for that. If you find yourself nodding along, just know: you're not alone.

...You've tried to use your CAC card for something completely non-military. You’ve confidently slapped it on the counter at a movie theater to ask for a discount. You’ve tried to scan it at a civilian gym. You may have even held it up to a police officer during a traffic stop out of pure muscle memory before realizing your catastrophic mistake.

...You've had a 10-minute conversation in a corporate meeting before realizing no one knows what "O-5," "E-4 Mafia," or "NCOIC" means. You use acronyms like they're oxygen, and you're met with blank stares. You then have to awkwardly translate "I was the senior enlisted advisor for a forward-deployed infantry company" into "I was a... team manager."

...The first time you grew a beard, you checked a non-existent regulation to see if it was allowed. For the first month, you felt like a fugitive. You measured it, checked for patchiness, and wondered if your old First Sergeant would somehow appear in your bathroom mirror to yell at you.

...You refer to your morning commute as "movement to contact" and your grocery run as a "logistics package." Your spouse asks you to pick up milk, and you reply with "Roger, executing resupply mission." You can't help it. Everything is a mission.

...You're genuinely shocked by the price of health insurance. You see the monthly premium and deductible for a family plan and think, "For this price, it must come with a helicopter." Welcome to civilian healthcare. It’s like TRICARE, but with more paperwork and crying.

...You've accidentally called your new boss "Sir" or "Ma'am." The word flies out of your mouth, and you both freeze. You feel like a boot, and they look around for their long-lost parent. It's a rite of passage.

...You find yourself standing at a civilian parade, judging everyone's marching. "They're not in step. Look at that spacing. Is that an unauthorized haircut? Disgraceful."

...You analyze the "synergy" and "bandwidth" in corporate emails like you're decoding enemy transmissions. You're certain "let's circle back on this" is code for "prepare to be ambushed in the next meeting."

...You've created a PowerPoint presentation for a family vacation. It includes a mission statement, a timeline with color-coded phases, a risk assessment matrix (Aunt Carol's political rants: High Probability, Moderate Impact), and an after-action review.

...You're the only person at the company picnic who knows how to properly set up the grill... and you organize the potluck line by order of arrival. You find yourself directing traffic in the parking lot and establishing a designated smoking area 50 meters from the main gathering.

...You still cut your food into perfectly symmetrical, bite-sized pieces. Your plate looks like a geometric art project. You can't help it; years of chow hall discipline are hard to unlearn.

...You're horrified by how inefficiently civilians load a dishwasher. There's no system. No spatial reasoning. Just chaos. You have to resist the urge to take over and demonstrate the proper technique.

...You've woken up at 05:30 on a Saturday, wide awake, with a vague sense of panic that you're late for something. You lay in bed for an hour, trying to remember what formation you're missing, before realizing you can just... go back to sleep.

...You've given your new civilian friends a "safety brief" before a night out. "Okay team, here's the plan. Hydrate. Have a designated driver. Here are the primary and alternate rally points. Any questions?"

...You feel a deep, spiritual connection to the person who refills the coffee pot at work. That person is a hero. A patriot. You make a mental note to recommend them for a non-existent award.

...You've tried to "volunteer" a coworker for a task they didn't want to do. In your head, it's just delegating. In their head, you're a monster.

...You see someone with a military-style backpack and immediately try to identify their branch and rank based on their posture and haircut. It's an involuntary response. You're like a bird-watcher, but for veterans.

...You've used the phrase "too easy" in a professional setting and were met with confusion instead of camaraderie. They don't get it. They will never get it.

...You have a closet full of perfectly folded t-shirts that you haven't touched in years. Each one is a perfect rectangle. You can't bring yourself to just "toss" them in a drawer like a savage.

...You've built a mental pros-and-cons list for every item in the cereal aisle. "This one has high caloric content but poor morale value. This one has good fiber but questionable long-term sustainability."

...You read an article just like this one and laughed because you've done at least half of them. The transition is weird, but it's a shared weirdness. If you've done any of these, congratulations—you're part of the club. It's okay to laugh about it. Now go make sure your gig line is straight... even though you're wearing a hoodie.

You Might Be a Transitioning Veteran If... (21 Hilarious Truths They Forgot in TAP)

You Might Be a Transitioning Veteran If...

You Might Be a Transitioning Veteran If... (21 Hilarious Truths They Forgot in TAP)

You Might Be a Transitioning Veteran If...