Not the Same #3 Prima Facie

Kirk felt flummoxed from what he discovered from his military entrance processing.

 

Cue: “Confusion” https://youtu.be/V0tm6EbhFAg?si=xndjxuS1v-EfeW5_

 

Beginning with a bit of Kirk’s background for context, you have to already know that Kirk was no genius by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, he was top of his automotive Vo-Tech class in high school because he loved the subject. His superior academic ability in the fifth grade placed him in the sixth-grade top class only for it to turn out a total disaster for Kirk in poor grades and repeated classroom humiliation. That close to failing, just saying…

 

With his military processing under his belt, Kirk headed home dead tired. Driving home in the dark mirrored his early travels downtown at four AM except in the late evening hours there were many more vehicles on the streets. This meant he hit most of the red lights. He yawned and rubbed his eyes from the glaring bright streetlights. He pressed on.

He headed into the old farm yard and parked the pink van across from his makeshift garage that housed his hyper-Firebird and his partially built stock car that would never hit the track. Kirk didn’t think about that.

Going inside, he wasn’t surprised in the least that his mother sat at the kitchen table pretty much the same as she was at four AM when he had departed. His father wasn’t around probably out “bowling.” His mother jumped to her feet.

“You must be hungry after your long day.”

Kirk, rather blurry eyed, said, “Aw, mom. I’m okay. They had a free cafeteria for us enlistees.”

“Were there many of you?” She asked getting up and heading for the cookies.

“Only ten of us. A couple,” he shrugged. “Maybe didn’t make it through.”

 “Oh, too bad for them.” She pulled out a plate and plunked a cookie on it. “Would you like some coffee? I could make a pot.”

“Ah no, mom. I’m good,” Kirk said, taking his coat off. “I’m going straight to bed.”

Upstairs, Kirk stripped down, dove into bed and went unconscious nearly immediately. He awoke at his regular time, amazed with his lack of dreams (or nightmares) after his ordeal at military processing. He had to wonder how all his examinations and tests would pan out, not thinking that he had nothing to worry about. He headed downstairs to take part in his morning ritual.

A couple days later, the phone rang and his mother took the call. Kirk, ever since the many times and hours he had spent on the phone with Babe, didn’t answer the phone because he just knew it wasn’t for him. Well, Kirk had found he was wrong a lot of the time a long time ago. Must have been the family curse. The call was for him.

“Kirk, a call for you,” his mother announced. Kirk looked at her questioning. “I’m not sure�"a sergeant.” She looked at him with a look of sadness maybe dread. He didn’t think it may be a notification of him leaving for Basic Training yet, so soon, but apparently his mother feared that it may be sooner than he did.

“Hello?” Kirk took the call.

“Hello Mister Biscuit, this is Tech Sergeant Shaw from the recruiting office. Just calling to let you know I have your exam scores here. Could you come by the office?”

Kirk felt tongue tied, expecting the worst possible outcome. “Ah, sure, Sergeant Shaw. How about tomorrow?” Kirk’s heart bumped hard.

“Perfect. Anytime during regular hours would be fine.”

“Okay, I, I’ll see you then.”

“Great! Take care now, Mister Biscuit. Goodbye.”

“G’bye,” Kirk said, hanging up the phone in a daze.

Kirk’s mother hovered near by with a worried expression.

 “Don’t worry, ma. It’s not a notification that I’m leaving anytime soon. They just have my scores from tests I took.”

“Good news then?”

Kirk shrugged. “He didn’t say one way or another. I find out tomorrow, I guess.”

Kirk went to bed with his appointment the next day front and center on his mind. He thought about it with its possible repercussions with a mixture of dread and anxiety wondering how it might affect the jobs, skills he might qualify for. He had known from early on with his conversation with Sergeant Shaw that the scores required for Air Force skills ranged from the very low to the very high, almost college graduate level for the most complicated, education-required Air Force skills.

The next morning, Kirk felt hyped over the question on how he did on his exams because he knew his scores would definitely determine the jobs he’d qualify for. Wolfing down cold Life cereal and hot Nescafe coffee, he told his mother his destination and that he’d be home in a couple hours. He stepped out the back door. Without anything on his mind other than heading straight to the recruiting office as excited anticipation flowed through his veins whether it might have been trepidation or apprehension coupled with a slim bit of confidence that he’d outscored at least some of the other recruits.  Heading to the pink van at a brisk stride, then quickly firing it off and taking off. In forty minutes without breaking any traffic laws, he arrived at the recruiting office.

Technical Sergeant Shaw stood speaking with a young man, younger than himself Kirk conjectured. Shaw acknowledged Kirk with gesture of greeting and another that he wouldn’t be long. Kirk didn’t hear what they discussed with his brain churning over his own future possibilities. He studied Shaw’s plaques of recognition on the wall though his mind didn’t comprehend what his eyes perceived. After a couple minutes, Shaw shook the man/boy’s hand and the civilian departed.

“Mister Biscuit, good to see you,” Shaw said, with a bit of cheer in his voice. He held out his hand; they gripped. “Your scores came in yesterday. I believe you will be happy with them.” He said without giving anything away.

Kirk thought the sergeant probably told all the recruits the same thing.  “Sergeant Shaw, I’m really curious to see my scores. Some of them,” he shrugged, “I can’t say I feel very confident about.” Kirk paused, probably wearing his grim expression. “Ah, so, did I qualify for the Air Force?”

Shaw smiled. “You more than qualified, Mister Biscuit, you scored double the required minimum score. Not an easy feat for sure.”

Kirk felt relieved with a light bulb going off. “I thought my mechanical scores would really help with that.” He said with a smile.

Shaw answered with a smile and a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. Your mechanical score had nothing to do with the Armed Forces Qualification Test. AFQT takes your word knowledge, paragraph comprehension into primary consideration, twice that is, and add in your scores for arithmetic expression and math knowledge, so you really do have a great baseline in qualifying.”

“Really?” Kirk felt drained of emotion with a side of being shellshocked. “I thought those were my worse compared to the mechanical, science, and those others.”

“Oh right. Recruits usually are puzzled over the whole battery of exams and get them confused to what they actually apply to.”

“Well, I sure did. So are the other exams combined like the ah, AFQT?”

“Oh no. They are scored individually for an Air Force vocation by your aptitude in each of the various areas�"to see what skills you’re best suited for.” He took the couple steps to his desk and picked up a card. “Kirk Biscuit, I have to shake your hand with congratulations after looking at these scores; the best I’ve ever seen and because they’re so good you qualify for every AFSC in the Air Force! Simply put, amazing!”

 He shook Kirk’s hand as he handed the card to Kirk who couldn’t quite comprehend what he read for a couple moments. His eyes scanned down to automotive.

“Ninety eight percent?” Kirk said. “Huh! I thought I’d do well but that score?”

“Okay. Let me explain further. The scores aren’t actually percentage correct on the exam, but they show how you score against others taking the exam which means you scored better than ninety-eight percent of everyone else. Almost better than everyone else!”

“Wow, I can’t believe my scores! I could’ve never guessed…” His eyes scanned down the list. Ninety-five on mechanical, ninety on science and electronics. Even in clerical/administration he scored eighty-five considering he had marked some incorrect answers on purpose. His stomach flipped over. Did they give me someone else’s scorecard?  His eyes drifted up to the top and sure enough, his name was listed on top: Biscuit, Kirk X. Still, he couldn’t believe the outcome, with him doing so much better than he had ever thought or dreamt.

Sergeant Shaw had stood by letting Kirk absorb the scores. “You know with those scores you could name almost any AFSC and reserve it for yourself.”

“Yeah, I remember, but you said that I’d have to wait longer to go in, right?”

“Right, correct. Some of the elite fields like flight-related skills, crypto, and the like you may have to wait a year to get into them.”

Kirk thought about it for only a moment. “No, I’ll stick with my original decision as an open candidate.”

“All right Mister Biscuit, with some luck and good timing you may end up with an incredible AFSC that might come open with a slot at just the right time for you.”

Kirk gave him a nondescript expression, knowing the way his luck and fate usually panned out. “I’ll just have to see what happens when I get into basic then, I guess.”

“Yes, you will,” Shaw said, sticking his hand out again that Kirk took and shook.

“So how long now before basic?”

“It usually is a month or two. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. When they have a date for your flight, they’ll send me your plane tickets.”

“Okay, thanks.” He held the card out to Shaw.

“No, that’s your copy, the original has been entered in your permanent records along with your medical exam results. I’ll be looking forward in seeing you in the near future.”

“Yep. Me too.” Kirk said, turning slowly and heading out the door. Looking back, he saw Sergeant Shaw heading back to his desk. Kirk conjectured that Shaw had more fish on the line to fry, that is, to join the US Air Force.

He remained nearly one-hundred percent sure that the scores on his card were not his own, but he also was sure he wasn’t about to mention a possible discrepancy to anybody. Nevertheless, Kirk felt not the same with those scores that had put him back on his heels.