I was "between" schools, having spent the first two years out of high school at Stout State, mostly drinking and being remembered for being able to open a beer can with my teeth and slam the contents down, all in less than 30 seconds. Perhaps it was my lack of commitment that enabled Uncle Sam to send me that notice. I decided if I was going, I would have some say so, so off to the Army recruitment center I went. I was a crack car mechanic so I figured I should work on something cool like helicopters. He said "No problem", but then he mentioned I would have another job when I was not working on birds. "What is that?", I eagerly asked. When he told me I would be a door gunner on a helicopter my excitement waned and I thanked him for his time.

So off to the Air Force in Appleton. The recruiter was nice and said he could help me work on helicopters, but I had to take this four part written test. When it was corrected, he informed me that I had almost perfect scores and that I really needed to go to Officer Training. Naw, my cousin told me officers were all assholes and I did not want to be that.
To make a long story short, he drove me to Milwaukee rather than stuffing me on the bus with the other contenders, bought me breakfast, took me to lunch. In the final room with all the other naked guys, we were all asked about any defects, etc. I had dropped an engine block on my right index finger in High School, severing the tendon to the end of my trigger finger. The shrink said "Son, I hate to give you the bad news but we cannot accept you because you cannot make the most basic of weapons". Yup, I could not bend the end and that finger kept me out of Nam because I could not make a fist and could not pull a trigger. I subsequently learned to hunt using my middle finger. Bad news? I am alive today and doing well.
Oh, the recruiter did not say two words on the way back to Appleton.