The ATC at my local do their best. Unfortunately it’s an Air Force base and they use it to train their controllers. You can hear the sweat beading on their brow when they have more than two arrivals from the same sector. Mix an F-16 pair into the mix and it’s not long before you hear the knowledgeable tones of the supervisor stepping in.
We normally suggest our own routing, it makes things a lot easier. “Request direct SARRE for the 29 ILS.”
Christmas on the Interstate-Sea Chantey
“Rollin’ home, rollin’ home,
'til I reach 495…
Where nobody moves 'til New Year’s
Lest there’s someone left alive…”
– an old salt reborn
Perhaps you come from a long line of seamen who were clueless, but not clueless enough. And made up for it by having people skills, or something. Or very impressive beards, and wicked pipe smoking skills. 
Zoe, ha, you mean this song?
I wonder if there are any more songs about beign “on the road again” in a seafaring way?
That’s a great point, and one that I teach my students. Many new pilots, especially those who trained at non-towered fields, don’t realize the best way to get what you want from ATC is to simply ask for it.
I’ve taken this to extremes a few times in demonstrating things to students. I requested a contact approach a few weeks ago, and the controller reacted as if I’d asked him to fellate me after landing. Seems nobody makes that type of request around here very often, and the controller wasn’t prepared for it. He did eventually approve it, but you could sense him thinking, “Goddam flight instructors, asking for stupid procedures…”
So, we can compare sailors to drivers, truckers, pilots and modern sailors.
Next up, y’all: compare a hunter-gatherer with a modern man or woman shopping for groceries. A modern shopper with an eye for bargains, a bag full of coupons, and an extensive knowledge of what shop sells what stuff good or cheap.
Yeah, it’s the same kind of knowledge…but that’s not the point.It isn’t the sailor’s knowledge we are in awe of— it’s his emotions. Authentic emotions, and deep connection with his world.
Knowing which lane of the highway to avoid isn’t the same as an old sailor knowing which tidal current to avoid…We don’t care about the highway, we only care about getting to the office on time to punch the time-clock. And if we get an opportunity, we switch jobs,and take a different highway, which we don’t care about either.
But the old salty sailor cares about those tides…he has invested his entire life in the emotional connection to them. He isn’t going to give up sailing them every day to go punch the clock at an office job.
( after all, there’s a reason that every old salty sailor has a beard and smokes a pipe…That’s how we know he’s authentic. How else are we gonna be in awe of him? If he dressed like you and me, he wouldn’t have the emotional connection to his job…We’d just tell him to take the highway,–oh, and by the way… avoid the righthand lane so you can punch the clock on time at the office.)
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh,
Oi loikes route twenty,plenty of good pickin’s there plenty o’plump commuters there laden to the glove compartments with plastic and green.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOhh AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR me maties!
Oh dear I appear to have just shit myself.
Nonsense! 
My husband, a navigator, call his job a “glorified floating-truck driver”. It’s all about buttons, LEDs and regulations nowadays. He practices the “ancient arts”, just in case civilization comes crashing down while he is in the middle of the ocean, or something.
And no, he doesn’t smoke, is fairly young, doesn’t have a beard, is forbidden to drink while he is working (6 months a year), wears a uniform, expends most of the day filling out forms and doing paperwork. None of the navigators I know are like the sailors of old. Thank Og.
Please refrain from spreading lies on the Straight Dope.
Just read the OP: "Aye, it’s too dangerous to try and sail out to Yonder Rock Point when the wind is south-east, my boy. "
It is a simple fact that ALL sailors (yes, all of them) are old, have beards, and speak with Irish accents. Oh, and they are salty, too.
Now, Ahoy there, me mateys…I’ll be waiting at me favorite spot in the bar till this squall passes over.
Alright, I surrender to your impressive use of logic and reason.