When I took all the exams and was probed and tested and psycho-analized and profiled and sorted and compartmentalized and inspected and injected and selected, the U.S. Army said that my best options for getting the most out of me as a soldier were either the Army's cook and foodservice school or signal-intellicence and crypto school. A no-brainer. I went to Ft. Jackson, South Carolina for boot for eight weeks and then went to Ft. Devens, Mass. for a year to learn Morse Code and Russian, and wave propogation and typing and Chinese and when I got out of the Army four years, five months, and twenty-seven days later, knowing Morse Code didn't do a lot to get me employed. In the forty years since I was discharged I've been a carpenter, a house painter, a carpet installer, a wallpaper hanger, an upholsterer, a drapery installer, a paint salesman, and many and sundry others. Until 1984 when a friend who owned an oysterbar-seafood pub asked me to go to work in the kitchen a couple nights a week after I got off work cutting up burned-up houses and rebuilding them. Why not. I hung around there and drank Anchor-Steam and played darts and why the **** not. Zowwwwieeeee! I was hooked. This is what the Army said I as suited for back in 1963. I have been in a kitchen on and off since 1984 and have been a KM since 1991. Primarily saloons and sports bars Oh, how I love this. Oh, how I look forward to going to work. Had I gone to cook's school I probably would have been Emeril by now. Every day I go to work at SportsLine Bar and Grille is another day of self-fulfillment. Being a KM in a saloon is the best of all worlds. I love it, I dearly do.