Ah, yes. The elusive security clearance. I had one—nice and shiny, too—for about 15 years. I’m not going to tell you exactly what level I had or what classified info I had access to. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? What I can tell you is that I was an Avionics Tech on the E-2C Hawkeye, and later I worked as a tech rep for the same aircraft, as well as the newer E-2D Advanced Hawkeye. Now, for those of you savvy enough to connect the dots, that might paint a clearer picture. For the rest? Well, you’ll just have to use your imagination.

So, why am I bringing up this dusty old topic of security clearances? A recent conversation, combined with a hilarious TikTok video, reminded me of a particularly amusing story from my past. For obvious reasons, I have to be careful with the details here, so bear with me if I sound a bit vague at times. National security and all that jazz.

Now, if you’ve been keeping up with my previous posts, you’ll recall that I once had an LPO (Leading Petty Officer) who, to put it politely, despised me. Really, truly despised me. And yes, I know “despised” might be too gentle a word, but I’ll let you fill in the blanks. We were prepping for deployment, starting workups, and this time around, we were bringing along something a bit… let’s say, specialized. This “something” required a handful of us to have certain clearances in place. Of course, Mr. Sunshine, my LPO, had the privilege of selecting who in the shop would be read into the program. And guess what? He went through the entire roster of guys—every single one—before begrudgingly submitting my name as a last resort. I still get a chuckle out of that.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the guys in the shop were awesome. But my LPO? Let’s just say his leadership style could best be described as… obstructive. So, the funny part of this whole scenario? Out of the entire squadron, aside from the NFOs (Naval Flight Officers), only two people knew what this mysterious “something” was, had the clearance to work on it, and could discuss it with the officers. Those two people? Me, and one other guy. And because the universe has a sense of humor, we worked opposite shifts, ensuring that one of us was always around to keep things running smoothly.

For the entire deployment, my LPO simmered with frustration because—brace yourself—I had clearance for something he didn’t. Oh, the irony. Picture this: I’d get called down to the ready room or maintenance control to talk about said “something,” and no one would tell him why. Not me, not the officers—no one. (We weren’t allowed to, of course, but that only made it sweeter.) The look on his face every time I walked past him, heading off to some secretive meeting, was pure gold. He might have shared a similar clearance to mine, but here’s the kicker: security clearances are tricky, multi-layered things. And as it turned out, I had access to quite a few things he didn’t. Let’s just say that became a point of pride for me—though I suspect it didn’t do much to help our already strained “relationship.”

What made it even better? A few sympathetic officers—not directly in my chain of command, mind you—had taken a liking to me. One of my favorites, LT Cameron Hall, used to call me down to the SCIF or the ready room after flights. Sometimes it was for business, but more often than not, it was just to shoot the breeze. I’m fairly certain they knew how much my LPO’s attitude grated on me, and they took it upon themselves to give me a little reprieve from the shop. That, my friends, was the cherry on top. I mean, if you’re going to have someone hate you, you might as well give them a good reason, right?