I have worked at a shooting range for a number of years. We get people from all walks of life. Some of the people who come in scare the living daylight out of me, and some are welcoming and sweet. On my lucky days,I would have a cool shooter come in that would actually teach me something new. But, on my “not so lucky days”, I’d have shooters, who would come in with terrible aim, and even worse attitudes. Having these combinations of people come in and out has left me with a lot of good and bad stories.
It was mid-July and it has to be at least a hundred degrees. We just got the after lunch rush and I felt like I was melting. I barely got to eat lunch myself. There were at least fifteen people waiting to get on the line and the heat was making everyone a little cranky. Myself and one other range officer were in charge of running three bays. Every lane had at least one shooter and things were getting pretty chaotic. That day had me at the max on my “stress odometer.” On days like this one, I wouldn’t recommend talking smack about any R.O., and definitely not to a regular customer. One of the great things about building a relationship with the regulars that come in is knowing that they’ll have your back. On days like this one, this came in handy. Some rude guy decided to talk crap about me saying that I didn’t know what I was doing, and had no business being a range officer. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, but, due to the heart that was cooking everyone alive, I had no patience with this guy. I didn’t sugar coat any of my impatience when I told him, “I am not going to kick someone off because you think you’re special.” This guy got so mad! As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t my fault that he decided to come shoot at the same time as everyone else.
After storming off, one of my regulars informed me that this gentlemen was saying rude things about me behind my back. Yes, I am a girl, but no, that does not make me any less knowledgeable about guns, or less capable to run my line. To teach this guy a lesson, I decided to act exactly like the “ignorant girl” he thought I was. “Silly me” forgot how much AR-15’s throw cartridges, almost right at the person next to them, and when it was finally time to get our new favorite person on the line, guess where I put him. That’s right! I put him at the very end, in the tactical bay. All the brass was attracted to him, it must have been karma. Ironically this guy had a big mouth, and a little gun. Let’s just say once he got on the line, he didn’t shoot for very long.
The moral of this story is: Don’t talk crap about your R.O.’s, especially if it’s a female that knows what she is doing.
“Bunny”