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drewkittyGWOT V - A State of Desperation - Assessment Center
We were still absorbing the implications of our new status.
For one, it became difficult for us to pay for anything. The hotel let us know with a nice note that they would comp our stay for as long as we wished, and had made arrangements with the chain to do the same thing. Pedicabs refused our money. (I saw a concierge and pedicab driver arguing over whether the concierge would pay him or he would do the ride for free. It was a point of honor with both of them.)
For another, where previously there had been a few restrictions on where we could go and what we could report, we now - officially - had unlimited access to anything we wanted to see. Even military bases.
If I wanted to push it, I supposed I could even see inside a Final Facility. But as the thanatosist had said, they had a comprehensive press kit and there was no reason to disturb the patients that way.
Instead of starting at the ending, I decided we should start closer to the beginning.
There were now several types of community center. They all had in common an attended point of presence, some basic amenities available to all - children or adults! - and the ability to obtain assistance or referrals.
Imagine if every elementary school also had a small public library attached. Or if every public library had an elementary classroom and a secondary school classroom. Or if every school served all ages, and also had a public library attached. It was kind of like that.
There were two special types of community center - the public health clinic and the armory. They also had the same points of presence, but were specialized in very different directions.
The public health clinic was like a laid-back emergency department - unless there was an actual emergency, at which point manana was replaced with Right The F___ Now. Ambulances would be called to take emergent patients to definitive care, which was of course Northern Medical City.
The armory served as a place for adults - both soldiers and non-soldiers! - to train in warlike skills. Most community centers now had a gym; all had places to study, either electronically or with paper. But only armories had in addition a rifle range, a pistol range, a dojo and both rangemasters and instructors literally on duty.
I was shocked to find, on a tour of a local high school, that the school had a rifle range. But not a pistol range. Pistols were not allowed in the schools, it was briefly explained, as students went to rifle class with slung rifles checked out of the school arms room, each with an orange 'chamber flag' to show that each firearm was not loaded.
An Assessment Center was none of these. It was a dedicated testing facility. You showed your ID, proved your identity with whatever level of biometrics were required, and reported to the appropriate testing station(s) for the personal record you needed to update.
There were no instructors; no coaching allowed; and proctors (that was their job title, Proctor) to enforce the testing regulations.
I took a typing test. A computer in a tiny room with a wall poster instead of a window.
My bodyguard took an emergency medical technician written exam. Computer, tiny room, picking answers to questions from a screen. The system duly invited him to schedule a 'practical' which was held daily at just one facility in Redding, but once a month at this testing center.
Then he took a firearms exam. A small range, a frowning (and armed) Proctor, and a qualifying score with the pistol he was already authorized to carry.
My camera operator wanted to take a videographer exam. They explained that the written could be done any time, but practicals were scheduled only once per month on this end of the State.
All of this testing was duly entered in our otherwise blank California citizenship records.
We watched physical testing. The BMFT, or Basic Military Fitness Test. The Scout Soldier Fitness Test. The incredibly grueling Bear Force Cadre Test, about which we were warned to say nothing.
Most of the military fitness candidates were young, tough men. But not all by any means. The tests were performance based; the results were weighted by age and gender.
Three levels of firefighter test - pack capacity, aptitude and performance. The last was held once a month, elsewhere in Redding, and involved live fire training. Literally, a room on fire in which the test was performed. I decided I would believe it when I saw it.
We did not watch the drug tests. The one police officer assigned to the Assessment Center was there, not to proctor but to help process any positives. The options were 1) agree to a course of drug treatment or 2) arrest.
"What keeps someone from agreeing now and running off?"
The police officer shrugged.
"OK. We'll arrest them somewhere else. Just not here."
Then there was the mixed testing.
A CAL OSHA officer came in from the street carrying two boxes of ammunition from her "war bag." Ran a timed mile and a half. Did two minutes of pushups - in full gear. Then she was allowed to take off her body armor and vest and do two minutes of situps.
Then she put it all back on again and went to the range. Immediately, no waiting. We watched as the projector popped up a series of accuracy drills, then shoot-not-shoot scenarios.
Upon passing, she was escorted to the drug testing clinic to give her sample. As a peace officer on duty, she was trusted to leave prior to test results being received. She was not trusted - no one was - to give a sample without a proctor "seeing the stream of urine leave the body of the subject."
"Any officer is subject to random testing. Tests are typically once a year, but have to be at least once every two years - and I know of one unlucky officer who had to test six times in a year."
"What happens if they don't pass?"
"If it's marginal, remedial training and another try, with a union representative present. If it's major, board review. A board of cops decides if she's trainable or has to be decertified. If the latter, she has the right to a hearing, but it's not likely to do her any good. Unless the union goes to bat for her, and that takes good reason. Unless of course its drugs. Then it's a drug treatment program until passing three in a row each a month apart, THEN a board sits on whether she can return to law enforcement."
I heard the hiss of air brakes outside as a tractor-trailer parked. The driver came in, walked right up to Drug Testing, was permitted to skip the queue ("Now serving G212 at Window Number Fourteen") gave his sample, and walked right back out.
"They get randomly tested too," a proctor explained.
"Why isn't any of this done by the private sector?"
"It is. For routine testing. Doing a test at an Assessment Center, the results are admissible in court. And only Assessment Center results are accepted by California military."
"Doesn't the military do their own testing?"
"Once you're in, yes. The folks you saw were aspirants, people hoping to get in."
"I thought the California military took anyone?"
"Depends on what you want to do. They will take anyone but you may end up in Labor Corps. If you want to be Naval Militia, you have to pass the swim test."
The swim tests were ... brutal. An alert, attentive lifeguard was backstopped by an EMT with full equipment. Both had oxygen bottles and rescue breath bags at the ready. And large fluffy towels to dry the chest of the patient before applying AED electrodes. A backboard against the wall, a nearby stretcher and a folded yellow tarp attested to the seriousness of their preparedness.
The basic swim test was to swim across the pool back and forth a certain number of times.
The Naval Militia test was the same, but with the hands bound behind the back.
The naval commando test could not be held without two fully qualified rescue divers. It involved weights as well.
There was no training. It was all assessment. They could learn to swim and practice their tests in community pools. Here was where they passed, or did not pass.
A proctor brought me a document with the identifying information cut off the top and shredded.
"This is a testing profile. California Military has prescribed the following tests."
There were four pages of tests. Many knowledge tests. Some physical. Some psychiatric. And more than a couple were labeled "REDACTED CONTACT NORTH OPS FOR QUESTIONS."
"They try out new tests before certifying them. There are also some secret tests."
"How do you study for those?" my bodyguard asked. "As a civilian."
"You can't."
On that cheerful note, we went across the street to a local taqueria.
Pleasantly, for once, we were allowed to pay by swiping our California IDs. This was duly deducted from not our bank balances, but our 'green' or food benefit.
"It's not exactly a ration. But it does keep a record of what you ordered, if not what you actually ate. You can, if you want, feed that into your personal records."
The tacos were good. As with other California cuisine, light on the cheese and meat.
We were still absorbing the implications of our new status.
For one, it became difficult for us to pay for anything. The hotel let us know with a nice note that they would comp our stay for as long as we wished, and had made arrangements with the chain to do the same thing. Pedicabs refused our money. (I saw a concierge and pedicab driver arguing over whether the concierge would pay him or he would do the ride for free. It was a point of honor with both of them.)
For another, where previously there had been a few restrictions on where we could go and what we could report, we now - officially - had unlimited access to anything we wanted to see. Even military bases.
If I wanted to push it, I supposed I could even see inside a Final Facility. But as the thanatosist had said, they had a comprehensive press kit and there was no reason to disturb the patients that way.
Instead of starting at the ending, I decided we should start closer to the beginning.
There were now several types of community center. They all had in common an attended point of presence, some basic amenities available to all - children or adults! - and the ability to obtain assistance or referrals.
Imagine if every elementary school also had a small public library attached. Or if every public library had an elementary classroom and a secondary school classroom. Or if every school served all ages, and also had a public library attached. It was kind of like that.
There were two special types of community center - the public health clinic and the armory. They also had the same points of presence, but were specialized in very different directions.
The public health clinic was like a laid-back emergency department - unless there was an actual emergency, at which point manana was replaced with Right The F___ Now. Ambulances would be called to take emergent patients to definitive care, which was of course Northern Medical City.
The armory served as a place for adults - both soldiers and non-soldiers! - to train in warlike skills. Most community centers now had a gym; all had places to study, either electronically or with paper. But only armories had in addition a rifle range, a pistol range, a dojo and both rangemasters and instructors literally on duty.
I was shocked to find, on a tour of a local high school, that the school had a rifle range. But not a pistol range. Pistols were not allowed in the schools, it was briefly explained, as students went to rifle class with slung rifles checked out of the school arms room, each with an orange 'chamber flag' to show that each firearm was not loaded.
An Assessment Center was none of these. It was a dedicated testing facility. You showed your ID, proved your identity with whatever level of biometrics were required, and reported to the appropriate testing station(s) for the personal record you needed to update.
There were no instructors; no coaching allowed; and proctors (that was their job title, Proctor) to enforce the testing regulations.
I took a typing test. A computer in a tiny room with a wall poster instead of a window.
My bodyguard took an emergency medical technician written exam. Computer, tiny room, picking answers to questions from a screen. The system duly invited him to schedule a 'practical' which was held daily at just one facility in Redding, but once a month at this testing center.
Then he took a firearms exam. A small range, a frowning (and armed) Proctor, and a qualifying score with the pistol he was already authorized to carry.
My camera operator wanted to take a videographer exam. They explained that the written could be done any time, but practicals were scheduled only once per month on this end of the State.
All of this testing was duly entered in our otherwise blank California citizenship records.
We watched physical testing. The BMFT, or Basic Military Fitness Test. The Scout Soldier Fitness Test. The incredibly grueling Bear Force Cadre Test, about which we were warned to say nothing.
Most of the military fitness candidates were young, tough men. But not all by any means. The tests were performance based; the results were weighted by age and gender.
Three levels of firefighter test - pack capacity, aptitude and performance. The last was held once a month, elsewhere in Redding, and involved live fire training. Literally, a room on fire in which the test was performed. I decided I would believe it when I saw it.
We did not watch the drug tests. The one police officer assigned to the Assessment Center was there, not to proctor but to help process any positives. The options were 1) agree to a course of drug treatment or 2) arrest.
"What keeps someone from agreeing now and running off?"
The police officer shrugged.
"OK. We'll arrest them somewhere else. Just not here."
Then there was the mixed testing.
A CAL OSHA officer came in from the street carrying two boxes of ammunition from her "war bag." Ran a timed mile and a half. Did two minutes of pushups - in full gear. Then she was allowed to take off her body armor and vest and do two minutes of situps.
Then she put it all back on again and went to the range. Immediately, no waiting. We watched as the projector popped up a series of accuracy drills, then shoot-not-shoot scenarios.
Upon passing, she was escorted to the drug testing clinic to give her sample. As a peace officer on duty, she was trusted to leave prior to test results being received. She was not trusted - no one was - to give a sample without a proctor "seeing the stream of urine leave the body of the subject."
"Any officer is subject to random testing. Tests are typically once a year, but have to be at least once every two years - and I know of one unlucky officer who had to test six times in a year."
"What happens if they don't pass?"
"If it's marginal, remedial training and another try, with a union representative present. If it's major, board review. A board of cops decides if she's trainable or has to be decertified. If the latter, she has the right to a hearing, but it's not likely to do her any good. Unless the union goes to bat for her, and that takes good reason. Unless of course its drugs. Then it's a drug treatment program until passing three in a row each a month apart, THEN a board sits on whether she can return to law enforcement."
I heard the hiss of air brakes outside as a tractor-trailer parked. The driver came in, walked right up to Drug Testing, was permitted to skip the queue ("Now serving G212 at Window Number Fourteen") gave his sample, and walked right back out.
"They get randomly tested too," a proctor explained.
"Why isn't any of this done by the private sector?"
"It is. For routine testing. Doing a test at an Assessment Center, the results are admissible in court. And only Assessment Center results are accepted by California military."
"Doesn't the military do their own testing?"
"Once you're in, yes. The folks you saw were aspirants, people hoping to get in."
"I thought the California military took anyone?"
"Depends on what you want to do. They will take anyone but you may end up in Labor Corps. If you want to be Naval Militia, you have to pass the swim test."
The swim tests were ... brutal. An alert, attentive lifeguard was backstopped by an EMT with full equipment. Both had oxygen bottles and rescue breath bags at the ready. And large fluffy towels to dry the chest of the patient before applying AED electrodes. A backboard against the wall, a nearby stretcher and a folded yellow tarp attested to the seriousness of their preparedness.
The basic swim test was to swim across the pool back and forth a certain number of times.
The Naval Militia test was the same, but with the hands bound behind the back.
The naval commando test could not be held without two fully qualified rescue divers. It involved weights as well.
There was no training. It was all assessment. They could learn to swim and practice their tests in community pools. Here was where they passed, or did not pass.
A proctor brought me a document with the identifying information cut off the top and shredded.
"This is a testing profile. California Military has prescribed the following tests."
There were four pages of tests. Many knowledge tests. Some physical. Some psychiatric. And more than a couple were labeled "REDACTED CONTACT NORTH OPS FOR QUESTIONS."
"They try out new tests before certifying them. There are also some secret tests."
"How do you study for those?" my bodyguard asked. "As a civilian."
"You can't."
On that cheerful note, we went across the street to a local taqueria.
Pleasantly, for once, we were allowed to pay by swiping our California IDs. This was duly deducted from not our bank balances, but our 'green' or food benefit.
"It's not exactly a ration. But it does keep a record of what you ordered, if not what you actually ate. You can, if you want, feed that into your personal records."
The tacos were good. As with other California cuisine, light on the cheese and meat.
