Ladies and gentlemen: The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Welcome to Sin City. Las Vegas, NV.
Names are changed to protect the Innocent
Ladies and gentlemen: The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Welcome to Sin City. Las Vegas, NV. My name is Andrew i’m a Range Safety Officer (RSO) at Battlefield Vegas the Ultimate Shooting Experience in the city of Las Vegas. Today is another hot Saturday on a busy summer day. The heat is miserable. The range is miserable. It’s our peak season and we are full to the brim. I have just paged the next group to give them a safety brief before we head out to the range to shoot their packages. When a customer asks me a question I will never forget. Welcome to the story, “How do you charge it?
Summer, summer, summertime at Battlefield.
This event occurred my first summer I worked at Battlefield Vegas. The summers for us at Battlefield are madhouses. We are usually packed from the moment we open those doors until about an hour before we close. Sometimes pushing the limit up to close. So, to say the least the summers are a clusterfuck to put it lightly. It’s a boom for business(can’t be mad at that) and it makes the day go by faster. So, we just trying to hold down the fort and keep the enemy at the gates.
Her Name was Lisa.
I have just paged my next customers which was about a group of 15 people. So, its a bigger group so I have 3 additional RSO’s staged on the range to help us effectively run the group. I am waiting to give the the safety brief and escort them on the range so we can do the damn thing. Part of the group comes up and a woman hands me the pager.
I say, “Good afternoon, my name is Andrew i’m gonna be one of your RSO’s for your group today. Where is everyone else?”
She responds, “Oh they are coming my boyfriend went to grab everyone else.” She was at counter with her friends all the wearing the same swimsuit top with some white short shorts and sandals on.
I notice an accent so I asked, “Where are you ladies visiting from.” She responds, “London.” I shake my head in acknowledgement and say, “Nice.”
We continue you on with our small talk as we wait for the rest of the group to arrive. I do get her name and for the purpose of this story her name will be Lisa.
So, Lisa and I are chit chatting it up for a couple of minutes. I am getting questions from the group about guns. How long have I done this? Was I in the military? What is my favorite gun? Etc. Common questions you get from customers nothing special on that front. Until, until…Lisa asks me a bombshell of a question. I didn’t even know how to respond at first when I heard the question oddly enough.
Lisa is leaning over the counter and browsing at the machine guns we have displayed on the floor. On display was an MG-42, M-60, M-240B, PKM (as I like to call her the People’s Killing Machine), and a few more. She leans back over the counter and puts her elbow on the counter and chin in her hand and says, “Can I ask you a question?”
I respond, “Sure go ahead.” with a smile.
She asks, “How do you guys charge the guns every night.” I shit you not fam she looked into the depths of my soul and asked me that question.
I was so shocked I didn’t know how to respond. I had a Kevin Hart moment in my head. My internal monologue went a little like this, “What!? What did this bitch just ask me!? Hold on! Pineapples! Bitch! Pineapples! What did you just say? You…you did not just ask me that question?”
So, I take a deep breath trying to process what she just said to me. So, I ask Lisa, “What do you mean by do we charge the guns?”
Lisa takes a deep breath and elaborates, “ Well, I mean when you guys are done for the day since the guns are electric powered you have to plug them in to charge them so you can use them the next day right?”
In my head I start screaming, “WORD!? DID SHE JUST ASK ME THAT QUESTION AGAIN JUST IN ANOTHER WAY? “
In the real world I calmly begin to lean in on the counter like old western bartender. I proceed to ask, “Do you think these guns are real?”
She responds, “Yes I know the guns are real but you guys don’t charge them everynight to make sure they work tomorrow?”
I am so dumbfounded I don’t know how to respond. I grab a Magpul M-16/M-4 mag from the ammo on the cart and showed it to her.
I answer, “Beautiful we use real ammo here. No, electric Airsoft guns around here. No, need to charge. No, need to plug in.” Once I told Lisa that it blew her mind.
From there I explained the cycle of operations to her of a firearm and how it functions. That it was no need for us to plug in the weapons every night so they would work the next day. I also explained to her we wouldn’t have enough plugs in this building to charge the 500 plus weapons we have at Battlefield. If we did our light bill would be astronomical high to say the least. By the time I ended this hip pocket class for Lisa her whole squad was there and read for a safety brief.
The Struggle is Real.
Working at Shooting Range you encounter this kind of firearms ignorance on a daily basis. Sometimes it’s a misconception or they believe how the movie portrays it is correct. It’s my job as RSO and as a person who loves this country for the ability to own firearms to educate them. So that they can have solid information out there for people who want to learn. This is the first story of many more I have. Some are funny. Like this one. Well,it’s funny to me. Some are dangerous. Where i’m having live firearms pointed at me on accident because most customers don’t understand the concept of muzzle awareness. But, through it all I wouldn’t change anything. Well having firearms pointed at me I would change that.
Thanks for Reading.
Thank you for reading. If you like this post hit that subscribe button and tell a friend. Would you like to hear more from Tales of an Range Safety Officer? What do you think I could do to make this blog better? What are topics that you would like me to explore and discuss? Let me know in the comments. Be Humble. Be Savage. Have a great day everyone.