So you still want to be a mercenary, even after reading part one. What the hell is wrong with you? To recap, this is not the sort of life meant for those seeking fame and fortune. That said, it also isn’t a lifestyle that requires one to be highly qualified in the art of warfare, though it helps. I am not grossly qualified, not bedecked with long tabs, nor was I ever referred to as an “operator” while serving my country in the U.S. Army. In fact, the only special training I have received was during my childhood.

From six to 17, I rode a bus that was shorter than the one the other students rode. That bus took me to the side of my school. From there I descended through a double metal door and into the basement. I attended a special class in the boiler room with a small group of other select children, and I could eat all of the paste that my heart desired. I enjoyed that lifestyle. That is, until our special bus dropped us off at the armed forces recruiting center instead of taking us to school. Our educators, friends, and family called us “special.” Many others still do to this day, as did the men in uniform who made us like them.

This relates to your next lesson: You will need to have a lighthearted outlook on life, as the world around you will constantly shift, and there will be unplanned obstructions in your path. On the home-front, you will need to really leave that life behind. Not in the typical military sense, but more in the prison sense. Say goodbye to your friends, family, and loved ones, because you will no longer have the time or connectivity to be an active or integrated part of their life.

Next, ditch your concept of self-worth and your overdeveloped, bullshit self-image. All right, sure you can keep it if you want, but it is unlikely to do you many favors. Consider this: You are not applying at Office Emporium, lying your way into a job as the third-shift stock boy. This is real, and you will need to clearly and concisely define what you can actually do, as you will need to eventually back it up. Your actual abilities are set to be tested in real, Third-World, unorganized, asymmetrical combat, in a place where you most likely do not speak the language or have a realistic, concrete plan to leave in a hurry. If you are, in fact, a failure in the field, your supervisor is not a high-school student, and the consequences are tangible and immediate. Here, Jimmy and your co-workers are most certainly not the cast from “Workaholics.”