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The most unforgettable sentence ever said to me consisted of 3 simple words.I was training to be a Navy jet pilot. It was the only thing I had wanted to do for as long as I could remember, and I was actually on my way.The first phase of pilot training is called “Primary”, where brand new pilot candidates strap on a plane for the first time and are introduced to Naval Aviation. Back then, all new Student Naval Aviators cut their teeth on the T-34C Turbomentor (fondly remembered as the “Tormentor”), a tandem seat turboprop trainer.After about 70 hours of instruction including solo flight, aerobatics, rudimentary instrument flight, and some basic formation flying, students were divided into several pipelines with different training aircraft: helicopters, maritime (land-based), and jets.I had great luck in Primary and managed to earn high enough grades to grab the only jet spot during my selection week. Life was sweet. The next stage of flight training (called “Advanced”) culminates in an important addition to one’s uniform bling:Assuming one can make it that far . . .Advanced jet training, for lack of a better phrase, thoroughly kicked my ass. Transitioning from the pokey T-34C to the sleek T-45A Goshawk was quite the adjustment, similar to graduating from a Volkswagen Beetle to a Ferrari right after completing drivers training, then being expected to immediately take it to its limits. It was so much faster than the T-34 that my brain could simply not keep up with it at first.The very first flight in this trainer is made from the back seat, under a canvas hood that completely blocks all outside reference, flying purely on instruments. I actually took off without being able to see the runway, with the instructor up front giving me verbal cues to stay on the runway (“check left”, “check right” etc). I was already past 250 knots and climbing at 10,000 feet per minute before I was even past the far end of the runway. Total insanity!The luck that served me well in Primary deserted me for quite a while during Advanced training. I had some instructor issues and some tough breaks that didn’t go my way. I failed some flights that I should not have. To be fair, I also passed some flights that I should not have. Regardless of the luck aspect, this is graduate-level, extremely challenging training requiring students to dig deep. Washouts are common.If I had been a better “natural” pilot, it wouldn’t have mattered as much. But in some areas the light bulb took a little longer to turn on compared to some of my more capable colleagues, and I was barely treading water with my cumulative flight grades. It was one of the only times in my life I was unable to compete near the top of my peer group, despite my absolute best efforts, a personal barrier I was quite dismayed to encounter. It was a dark time in my life.At the end of training, Navy jet students have to land at the carrier. Unlike every other phase of flight training - where the first time trying something new is always with an instructor - the first carrier landing is performed solo, with no instructor in the jet.Soon enough, it was my turn to get kicked out of the nest . . .I headed to my carrier qualification along with 10 other nervous students. Over the course of two harrowing days, we completed 10 exquisitely graded arrested landings on the USS George Washington. The required landing grade GPA to qualify at the carrier is 2.40.My grade: a 2.39.I found out later that my LSO - or Landing Signal Officer (a really great guy) - wanted to pass me, but was overruled by a senior LSO. They got into a huge argument on the LSO platform for about 15 minutes before my LSO was overruled. Hence the 2.39.Above: Landing Signal Officers “Waving” a T-45 Goshawk passThis was my 3rd failure in advanced jet training (I had none in primary - go figure). It’s sort of a “Three Strikes” system, but you get some special consideration if the third strike is at the carrier. I had to sit before a board to decide my future. I told them I would only quit if they physically removed me from the building, and they gave me another chance. I’ll always remember what the board chair (a senior jet instructor) said to me afterwards. “Don’t worry Hooch, you’ll have better luck on your next trip to the boat. I know I did.”Back to the boat I went. I was confident. The 10 landings are split over 2 consecutive days. Having already experienced the absolute terror of the first carrier landings a few months before, I had an airtight plan.I’m going to have a good first day back at the boat, having already seen it before I thought to myself. I had to have a good day, since for second-timers like myself, we needed a 2.6 GPA to pass instead of the normal 2.4. Fair is fair . . .I had a terrible first day back at the boat.I woke up on the second day and slowly dressed. As I pulled on my flight suit, I tried not to think about the fact that this was THE DAY. All the work I had put into gaining acceptance to Annapolis, working hard to get a flight billet after graduation, busting my butt in Primary for Jet Grades, and being ground down for the past year and a half in jet training - over 8 years of my life - was all coming down to events that would unfold in the next 5 or 6 hours. There would be no more chances. I would either pass and go on to great things, or fail and possibly never fly again. I am the type of guy who likes to stack the deck in his favor, with plenty of margin just in case.At this point, my margin was razor-thin.I took off and proceeded to the boat, where I somehow managed to compartmentalize the massive consequences hovering over my every move and just go with the flow. I was flying decent passes for once and I could feel it. But I had to fly good passes to make up for my atrocious performance the day before and have enough schlitz left over for a 2.60 average.I was feeling good because my LSO had nothing to say to me. This is a very positive thing. All the students in the pattern, the LSOs on the ship, the Air Boss in the tower, and the instructors flying high perch watching the show are all on the same radio frequency. Communications brevity is paramount, and every radio call is kept as short as possible, with each word carefully chosen. It is an extremely crowded, varsity radio environment. Despite this, it is common for LSOs to talk to students during Carrier Quals in between landing attempts when they need a little help. Something like this (206 is the jet ID number, “Paddles” is the universal LSO call sign, the “Ball” is a glide slope reference on the ship used by the pilot during the landing approach, “WILCO” is an abbreviation of “Will Comply”):“206, Paddles”“Go ahead”“Your starts are on the low side. Fly those approach turn numbers and don’t accept a low ball”“206 WILCO”While I could hear various LSOs talking to their own students, NOTHING was directed at me, landing after landing. So far so good.Eventually, I launched off the USS Truman catapult for my last pass. As I was starting my downwind turn, I heard the radio crackle, addressed to me this time. Aww crap . . .“217, Paddles”“Go ahead”“You’re doing great so far, just show me a good start this pass”“217 WILCO”Sweet! “Doing Great!” It was really cool of him to give me a little pep talk before my last pass. Now it’s time to put a little frosting on this cake and call it a day! As I completed my turn to final (called the “Groove”), I saw the ball dead-center, right where it should be. I called the ball and heard an enthusiastic “Roger Ball!” from the LSO. I could tell from his voice inflection that I had a good start.I flew what felt like a good pass, topped off my gas, and launched for the last time with a big grin on my face. Even the Air Boss (master of everything on the flight deck and within 10 miles of the carrier) gave me a little love, calling out “Nice work today, 217” as I screamed out at 500 feet above the waves accelerating to 500 knots straight in front of the boat for 7 miles before yanking the stick back to climb above the landing pattern and point my nose back towards the coast for a 30 minute transit back to base.I was busy in the climb with various checklists, but once I leveled off, there was time to think. WHAT A DAY! So generous of my LSO to give me a little shot to the arm, especially since radio discipline is so important around the carrier. Hmm, I can’t believe he took the time to just build me up on the radio like that . . .After a few minutes, my grin started to fade.Uhhh, wait a second. Why would he take up that valuable radio time JUST to say I was doing well? Uh oh. What if I WASN’T doing that great? How could he let me go that long without talking to me? How could he lie to me if I actually NEEDED a really good last landing to qualify?Well, what was he supposed to say? “Hooch, your entire flying career depends on this next pass. Try not to think about the soul-crushing ramifications of your EVERY MOVE. Don’t screw it up or you’ll be flying a desk for the next 10 years!”Holy crap, that bastard was blowing smoke up my ass!By the time I was ready to land back at MCAS Beaufort, I was 90% sure that I was right on the razor’s edge once again, that my LSO had told me what he thought I needed to hear to fly a good last landing, because that was the only way I could pass. There was no way to know if that last landing was good enough until he finished grading his other students and flew back to the beach to give me my score.I decided to come in for a 500 knot “Shit Hot” break, since it could very well be my last flight at the controls of a military aircraft. I had something like this in mind:I checked the airport weather - 400 foot ceilings, 3/4 of a mile of visibility, and rain. CRAP! I had to shoot an instrument approach instead to a dreary, soaked runway. Kind of like this (different aircraft type, but similar boring approach without getting to look cool and pull Gs):Perfect . . .I shut down the jet and dripped my way into the VFA-86 ready room, which we temporarily occupied for the Carrier Qualification detachment. I slumped down in a chair and considered my fate. It would be hours until all the rest of the students were finished, allowing my LSO to fly back to the beach to deliver my sentence. I tried to stay calm, but I had nothing to distract me from the sheer enormity of my future hanging overhead, a massive weight tilting precariously in different directions.A future that had already been decided several hundred miles east of me.I thought about the phone calls I would soon be making to my wife and extended family. How could I possibly break the news if this did not go my way? What the hell would I do with my life? I took solace from the fact that - no matter what happened - for the rest of my days I would still be able to say I had landed a jet on an aircraft carrier 20 times, even if it was not pretty.After a while, one of the training squadron XOs sauntered over and sat down next to me.“How did it go out there today?”“Sir, I can’t say. I think it was really, really close.” I explained to him how events had unfolded, and why I was concerned to an alarming degree.He digested this for a few heartbeats, perhaps taking a moment to remember how he felt in my shoes 15 years previously. Then he looked me in the eye, smiled, and said the most unforgettable sentence I have ever heard.“You made it.”I think I melted into my seat at that point, having never felt a greater sense of relief in my entire life. I let out more air from my lungs that I thought physically possible as I tried to keep my body from puddling off the seat. Various quantum Naval Aviation probabilities collapsed into a single definitive future, the ponderous load crashing down all around me in the best possible - but still overwhelming - way. I was Schrodinger’s cat, finally observed and surprised to be alive. I was going to be a Navy Pilot! Apparently a phone call had been made from the boat to the beach with the student results (no trivial matter in 1999).Another hour elapsed. Finally my LSO burst through the door in a shower of raindrops and locked eyes with me.“Hooch, MY MAN!” he cried out.“I needed a good last pass, didn’t I?” I asked.“Yes. Yes you did!” he replied.Apparently - with the typical hectic carrier environment and many students to keep track of - he had found himself a little behind the power curve during my passes running cumulative GPA calculations. Eventually he ran my numbers and let out a low whistle as he realized I was in trouble - with only one landing left!“So how did I do?” I asked, wondering how close I came to the 2.60 minimum.“2.62”The strange thing is, I never had trouble landing on the boat again. No issues on my first deployment and usually had the highest landing grades in my squadron during my second cruise. It just took a little longer for me to figure it out, and the Navy can only afford to wait so long.I often think about those 15 second in the groove (where the grading happens). My entire future riding on slight movements from either hand. It’s a remarkable inflection point in my life - such a close, close call.As it so happens, I went on to do All The Great Things, and had the adventure of a lifetime. My years flying for the Navy were unforgettable, and I feel exceptionally privileged to have been one of the lucky (or perhaps deranged) few who dream about something outrageous when they are 5 years old, then actually end up doing it.I’ll always be grateful to my LSO “Mange” and the shameless lie he told me that day!Update: Thanks for the compliments and support. For any interested in more of my writing, or US Navy Carrier Aviation in general, here are a few other answers:Mike Turner's answer to Can pilots play a prank on passengers, mid air?Mike Turner's answer to How do Navy Pilots practice aircraft carrier landings before they actually land on an aircraft carrier?Mike Turner's answer to Do any real-life naval aviators actually get a cool callsign? It seems that all non-movie call signs are tied to some embarrassing screwup or personality trait of the pilot.Mike Turner's answer to How does a fighter pilot know when to drop bombs to hit a certain target?I also recommend Tim Hibbetts Navy Fighter pilot posts - his writing really jumps off the page. John Chesire churns out some great posts as well.

Government jobs are the greatest illusion for the youths of India.The common impression about government service is that once you join a government service, your struggle is over as your career is secured for life.Most people visualize government officers enjoying their power, perks and paisa (including corruption money) throughout their lives without any worry.Hence, for most youths in India, government services are like a lottery, which you win by successfully clearing the competitive examinations conducted by UPSC, SSC etc.Imagine that you have to spend just Rs 2000 and you dream to become a multi- millionaire.You think of becoming rich quickly and hence you bought this Rs 10 crores lottery. [1]You don’t understand that the lower is the price and the higher is the payoff of the lottery, the lower is the chances of your success.Hence, every person who buys a lottery of Rs 2000 expects to win Rs 10 crores and hence get disappointed when he fails to win the lottery.While the competitive examination is not like the lottery as your merit and performance also plays an important role, yet luck plays a very important role in selection of the candidates in government jobs.It is, therefore, common for a candidate who fails to qualify Prelims (hence fail to come in top 10,000) getting top rank in the very next year in the Civil Services (IAS) Examination. Similarly, there are many who have already been selected in Civil Services failing to qualify even Prelims next year.Since more than 5,00,000 candidates appear every year for less than 800 seats in UPSC CSE, the chances of selection is less than 0.2% and the remaining 99.8% students are bound to get disappointed.Unfortunately, you only hear the success stories of these 0.2% successful candidates and never know about the stories of pain and misery of the remaining 99.8% candidates.If you would have taken a balanced view of the reality, you would not have been so much disappointed.I wish to advice you that you must not waste rest of your life thinking about the past as no one (not even God) can change the past.You can still make a great career in corporate world or you can do something of your own.I also wish to advice the other government services aspirants to please listen to the stories of the candidates who fail, because they are in vast majority and you too may be one of them tomorrow.It is always a good idea get the realistic picture of the government jobs (its pros and cons) beforehand and to plan for your failure.Please don’t keep all the eggs in one basket, but keep a backup option while preparing for government jobs where the probability of selection is quite low.Footnotes[1] Gandhi Brothers Lottery

5 Simple Steps To Get Into The Olympics:1. Pick the easiest Olympic sport to compete in.For the Summer Olympics, the arguably easiest sports are equestrian, archery, shooting, or sailing. Personally, I would pick shooting, since you can be in similar physical shape as Jabba The Hutt and still be a good shot. There are 10 different events in shooting. I’d pick 10 m air pistol. Some might say equestrian would be easier, but it requires more time and costs (like owning an actual horse).For the Winter Olympics, I would say curling is the easiest. Why? Because the captain of the current World champion Norwegian curling team is a 44-year old guy employed as a manager. He does curling part time. He is also a friend of my dad, and I’ve met him myself.The guy sliding the rock is the one I’m talking about.However, curling is a team sport with only 12 participating nations. If you don’t have citizenship in those nations, then I’d opt for cross country skiing (I’ll explain why later).2. Once you’ve picked your sport, select a small nation to represent in that sport. Or simply represent your own nation.For shooting, there are 390 participants at the 2016 Rio Olympics. Some nations received more spots than others. For instance, China got 24 spots, while Portugal got 1. The number of spots are based on previous competition results. There are 97 participating nations, so chances are you are from one of them. Interestingly, there were a total of 400 spots available, which means that some nations did not fulfill their quota. This is good news for you.For curling, as mentioned, there are only 12 participating nations. In the 2014 Sochi Olympics, these were Canada, China, Denmark, Germany, Great Britain, Japan, Norway, Russia, South Korea, Sweden, Switzerland, and the USA. If you are from any of those nations, then I’m confident that you stand a good chance of getting on the team with a little sweeping practice. Additionally, each nation send up to 10 athletes. So get a full time job that involves sweeping and practice curling part time.If you’re not from any of those nations, I’d select cross country skiing. Say you are representing a nation who does not have any other participating athletes. Select either the sprint and/or classical events. Make sure you have a maximum of 300 FIS distance points. What are FIS points and how do you get them? It’s not important right now. Just know that the less points you have, the better. And you get less of them by participating in a few competitions. Look, in 2014, there were participants from Peru, Togo, and India. So you should be able to qualify.That’s Philip Boit from Kenya at the 1998 Nagano Olympics.3. Practice a bit.Start practicing your shooting skills. Since we picked 10 m air pistol, get any .177 caliber air gun and start shooting stuff.For curling, get a job as a street sweeper, janitor, toilet cleaner, or any other job that involves sweeping surfaces. In your free time, go to the local ice rink and slide stones around.If you opted for cross country skiing, then get some skis and find a snowy area to practice. If you are in a tropical climate you can get roller skis. Or just do any cardio exercises. Endurance is key in cross country skiing.4. Nail the qualifications.For 10 m air pistol just do your best. Make sure you are from an under-represented nation to maximize your chances.For curling, become buddies with the team and prove you can sweep. Shouldn’t be that hard.If cross country skiing, then just make sure you have a maximum of 300 FIS points. Don’t ask what those are. Just enter a bunch of competition and try not to finish too far behind the winner.5. You did it!Travel to the Olympics and enjoy the likelihood of finishing last. You’ll likely get ridiculed by international media, but who cares about your reputation… you’re at the Olympics!