Course Corrections

Picture it.

January 1986.

I’m out of work. The department I’d been with has ceased to exist.

I’m putting in with other PDs and either they aren’t hiring, laying off themselves, or worse, have a hiring process that is insanely long.

I’m walking down the street in Alamosa, Colorado after putting in a rash of resumes that I know will go nowhere.

I pass the Army recruiters office. There’s a big sign in the window that shouts “Army Opportunities!”

Sure. Right, I think.

But I did a right face and walked in.

A Staff Sgt is sitting behind a desk. he looks up and asks, “What can I do for you?”

“You’ll probably throw me out when you find out how old I am.”

He looks me up and down.

“How old are you?”

I told him. I was a year over the cutoff.

“Well, what do you bring to the party?” he asked.

“Four years of college and almost ten years of Law Enforcement experience.”

He points at a chair and says, “Sit down.”

A month later, I’m the oldest male PFC in the U.S. army that’s never been busted.

And despite what seemed to be one or twelve major disasters along the way, they turned out to be little more than course corrections.

And life has never been the same since.