“Delta Force, what job are you trying to get, that you can afford to be distracted?”
“Parachute Rigger.”
I nearly spit my orange juice into his face. After I choke it down, we both break out into loud uncontrollable laughter.
“Oh man, I hope I don’t end up with one of your parachutes.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure Special Forces, packs their own. They have some trust issues.”
I give him a sardonic look and reply dryly. “I wonder why.”
“I can’t imagine.” He says with a look of mock innocence. He stands from the table, gathering his trash to throw away. “You better finish up; they should be here any minute. And, I hear the Army kind of expects us to be punctual.”
A grumpy soldier arrives to collect us, just as we finish clearing our table. Omar and I, the two girls, and four other guys all load into a white, passenger van. We drive five minutes to get to the, Military Entrance Processing Station, or MEPS as everyone calls it. Once there, we are all sent on our separate paths of ASVAB, early exit exams and physicals. I am taken to a testing room for my early exit exam. The room is dark and cool. It is divided into eight, cubicle like spaces with old fashioned touch screen computer monitors. I look to the test proctor, who is obviously reading my thoughts.
“The military does not need to spend money on high tech equipment, to give an early exit exam. Do you need a tutorial on how to operate this type of computer?”
I look at the outdated computer. It reminds of the computers we used for first grade testing.
“I think I’ll manage.”
The proctor smirks at me, and, then returns to her stern countenance. “If you should have a problem with the computer program during testing, press the red button on the right wall. I will come to your booth if there is a problem. Do not leave the booth until your test is complete. Once you leave the booth your test is finished whether you are or not.”
“Understood”
“The test is broken into two sections. You will have three hours to complete each section. Once you finish the first section press the red button on the right, and I will come and halt your test. You will have thirty minutes to use the latrine, stretch your legs and eat a snack. There will be a table with nutrition bars, fruit, water, and coffee just outside the testing room. Do you have any questions?”
“No ma’am”
“You may begin.”
I take a seat and begin the test. Two hours and fifteen minutes later I am done with section one. I would be lying if I said the test wasn’t challenging, but all in all I think I did pretty well. I press the button and wait for the proctor to come halt the test. Once I am released, I head to the restroom, and see Omar passing in the opposite direction. We don’t speak in the quiet hallway, but he nods his head in a silent greeting. I take my time walking back. When I return, I eat a protein bar that taste like candy and drink a bottle of water. I arrive back at the testing booth ten minutes early. The proctor crosses the room and hands me paper and a pencil.
“In case you need scratch paper for the math portion of the test.”
“Thanks”
“You ready?”
“Yes ma’am”
Even though I have always been better at math and science, I use almost every minute of the next three hours of testing. I finish with just three minutes left on the clock. I stand up and stretch, and when I turn around to leave the proctor is at the entrance to my booth.
“Your test results will be sent to the job recruiting specialist. The recruiter will input these scores and your ASVAB scores, along with the results of your physical evaluation. The results will help us give you a clear picture of which jobs you are best suited for. Now, follow the yellow line to waiting area C to continue processing.”
I spend the rest of the day getting poked and prodded by the medical staff, with the exception of the intermittent periods of seemingly endless waiting. At 1700 hours the van drops me, and the rest of the recruits, back in front of the hotel. Omar and I both want Chinese, so we go back to our room and order delivery from the Bamboo Garden.
“That was the longest day ever. I was completely unprepared for this kind of boredom.”
I look over at Omar. He has the wiry, gangly frame of someone who has been hyperactive all his life. Even now, his right foot is bouncing up and down on the floor. I can see how spending half the day waiting around would be a challenge for him.
“So, why do you want be a rigger? It seems like a job where you have to concentrate, a lot”
Omar smirks at me.
“First off, I don’t have a problem concentrating. But the main reason I want to be a rigger is I really want to jump out of planes, and not just every three months to keep my airborne certification. I want to jump all the time. I have always known that’s what I want to do. This way I get paid to do it.”
Once our food arrives our conversation dwindles to grunts of appreciation for the Bamboo Garden’s shrimp with lobster sauce and tiny spicy chicken. After a few minutes Omar turns on the TV. The TV is totally old school and has no three-dimensional technology or virtual reality settings. It is exactly what I am used to, but I can tell if frustrates him. After about ten minutes of channel surfing, he lands on Entertainment News. I just
