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By SARAH SMILEY
Your Spouse's Detailer: The Ultimate Bogeyman
When my husband, Dustin, mentions his “detailer” (aka, the person who has the power to find me a new zip code), I picture a large man hunched over his desk with cigar smoke swirling up toward a bare, flickering light bulb in the ceiling. He is something like the Godfather, and he’s just as powerful and scary.Of course, this is only my imagination. I may never know what my husband’s detailer really looks like because they are as elusive as my neighbor’s one-eyed cat who slinks around in the bushes and pops out now and then when my back is turned. Why else do you think the military keeps these people in places like Millington, Tenn.?
I’ve only heard of one couple who knew and eventually became friends with their detailer, and I’m not sure this wasn’t “illegal” in the same way that one can never know the true identity of someone in the Witness Protection Program.
From a spouse’s perspective, the detailer is the ultimate boogeyman. You never see his face, and you probably don’t know his name. But on any given day, he can change the course of your life – or at least change your address – for the next 18 months.
The detailer might also be your husband’s scapegoat: “Honey, what could I do? The detailer told me that an unaccompanied tour in Diego Garcia was the best option right now.”
Dustin wants me to add here (possibly because he is currently up for new orders) that detailers try very hard to meet the needs and desires of the servicemembers to which they are assigned. Indeed, Dustin’s detailers always have been gracious enough to grant all our wishes and desires that suit Uncle Sam.
A servicemember’s conversation with the detailer might go something like this:
Detailer: So what did you have in mind for your next career move?
Servicemember: We’d like to stay on the East Coast if possible.
Detailer: Did you say you love the weather in San Diego?
Servicemember: Um, no. I mean, well, I do love the weather in San Diego, but what I said was that my wife really wants to stay…
Detailer: Great, so it’s settled. We’ll put you down for something in San Diego or Everett, WA. Unless you’d like to go to Guam instead?
Servicemember: Guam?
Detailer: Yeah, I’ll get back to you on whether or not you want to go there.
After a conversation such as this, the servicemember is left in the unfortunate position of playing mediator between his wife and the detailer when he gets home. He will begin this talk with something like, “So, I talked to my detailer today…” and visions of a big, scary man – or a one-eyed cat, if you prefer – will pop into your head. You know it’s bad news if what comes next is any of the following:
“You always said you wanted to be adventurous, right?”
“When you said you like cold weather, how cold did you mean?”
“How far west does the ‘East Coast’ extend?”
“Living far away from my parents is a good thing, right? Would Iceland be far enough away from them?”
“I hear they have great schools in [insert your least desirable place to live here].”
“I saw an article about the best and worst places to live in America, and did you know that [insert city and state] wasn’t one of the worst?”
“The good news is that we’re all healthy and happy, and whatever happens next, we will do it together.”
And the number one worst way your husband could begin the conversation?
“How fast do you think we could sell this house?”
Eventually, you will begin to cry or hyperventilate, at which point your husband will say, “Before you get upset, let me talk to the detailer again tomorrow.” This is only to buy himself more time. Husbands never call their detailers the next day and say, “My wife cried when I told her about [city and state]. Do you think we could work out something else?” No, he will call the detailer and say, “My wife is on board to do whatever the military asks of us.”
None the wiser, when you end up getting orders to [insert undesirable city and state], you will hate that big, mean, scary detailer even more for not listening to your requests. And your husband will just smile and say, “Don’t worry, the detailer promised that my next set of orders will be whatever we want that makes Uncle Sam happy.”
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Sarah Smiley is the wife of a Navy pilot and daughter of a retired Navy pilot. She is the author of “Going Overboard: The Misadventures of a Military Wife” (Penguin/NAL), and her syndicated column “Shore Duty” appears weekly in military and civilian newspapers across the country. Read more about Sarah at her website, www.SarahSmiley.com.