Here's a little something for Sgt. Stryker, a story I'd forgotten from my college days when I spent my summers and holidays moving furniture in Norfolk, Virginia. (My mother reminded me of it at Thanksgiving.)

One customer was the snobby wife of a lieutenant or lieutenant commander. When she realized that all her movers were college boys and navy brats, she asked one of us "What’s your father’s rating?", expecting him to say "E-6" or "E-7" or something like that. (Those are enlisted ratings, that is, ranks.) She was not pleased when the first one she asked answered "O-7" (or it may even have been "O-8").

Note for non-military-types: His father was an admiral, in fact executive officer of one of the bases in Norfolk.