I Just Wanted a Job in the Medical Field

The recruiter put his hand on a 4-inch pile of papers and said, "These are all women waiting to get into the Air Force. You see, only 22% of the Air Force is allowed to be women and so it's very competitive." As he continued to speak, he held up my test results and placed the paper on top of the stack: "With your test scores, your paper goes to the top." He was good...really good. It was 1985 and at 19 years old, that recruiter knew just the words to say to feed my ego and alleviate my fear. In retrospect, I'm sure I wasn't the first to go to the top of the stack, nor the last.

I had always heard, though, "make sure you get everything in writing" and so I called my father for advice. Being retired Air Force, he would know whether joining without a guaranteed job would be a wise decision. Knowing that the military would be good for me, he assured me I wouldn't end up as a cook or a plumber (not that those jobs aren't good jobs--they're just not for me). I argued that if I joined, I would be in Basic Training for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's in which he replied that being away for the holidays can't be the deciding factor. In the military, I would be away for many holidays. He was right, by the way. Saddly, I would never share another Christmas with my father in our Tennessee home.

I enlisted that day and four months later headed to Basic Training in Texas. About halfway through the training, the women in my group who enlisted without a guaranteed job were summoned to a classroom. It was time to nail down what we would do for the next four years. I was given a list of jobs that were available and told to list up to eight in order of preference. Following the advise of my dad, I looked for medical jobs. He had told me to get into the medical field, if possible, because I would be able to secure a job in the civilian world. There were seven medical jobs available: x-ray technician, lab assistant, etc. and so I listed all seven. I had one choice left and, as a joke, I jotted down Radio and Television Broadcast Specialist in the last slot. I say "as a joke" because at that time I had an extremely prominent southern accent. In fact, Basic training was where I acquired my nickname "Ginabelle."

There was one other woman in my flight (group) who also listed the broadcasting job, however, she put it as her number one choice. She had worked as a radio D.J. prior to enlisting and her recruiter assured her that, although the broadcasting job wasn't available at the time, it more than likely would be when she arrived at Basic Training. So, she was more than pleased to see it on the list and felt very confident that she would secure it, which was fine with me.

About a week after we made our choices, the two of us who listed broadcasting were instructed to report for a voice audition. I explained to the sargeant administering the test that I had no intentions of being a broadcaster--I just wanted a job in the medical field--broadcasting was my last choice anyway. He informed me that I was on the list for this job until he took me off. The Air Force was looking for someone with a midwestern sound--void of any strong accent, especially a slow southern drawl. Aftering hearing my audition, he told me that I would probably be very happy as a medical assistant.

About three days before completion of Basic Training, everyone in our flight received their orders. There was so much excitement as we floated around with our handful of documents, sharing where our next duty assignment would be. My orders stated that I was assigned to the Defense Information School at Ft. Benjamin Harrison in Indiana to train as a Broadcast Specialist. My D.J. friend was going to Wichita Fall, Kansas to become a diet therapist. Imagine our surprise!

It wasn't until I was well into my second go-around of voice and diction class that my instructor researched my audition paperwork. With such a strong accent, he was curious as to what my audition score was. Needing at least a 65 to pass, Mr. Runda asked me when I had re-auditioned. Confused, I told him that I only auditioned once. He said there had been a grave mistake because my score was a 42. By this time, I was caught up in the glamor and excitement of radio and television. I knew that this would be an adventurous job involving tons of travel and meeting lots of people. I begged Mr. Runda not to report the mistake that he had discovered. Hadn't I come a long way with taming my accent? He saw how badly I wanted to stay and promised to work with me as long as I dedicated everything I had to this training. It took me twice as long as most students to get through the voice class. Overcoming a southern accent was no easy feat! With the end of the course fast approaching, I knew Mr. Runda would have to make his decision. Would I continue my training or be sent next door to the ambulance driving school? He laughed when he told me he was doing the world a favor by keeping me from behind the wheel of an ambulance! I love that man!

I can look back at everything that transpired and see such a God-thing! He placed me in a career that was absolutely life-changing for me. I found my niche in videography and editing and I couldn't wait to go to work everyday! Even when I was leaving active duty to join the civilian sector, God sent someone who would help me transition from broadcasting in Italy to television in California! Our unit in northern Italy had hired a consultant to spice up the look of our television station; to help it look like our civilian counterparts in the United States. During my conversation with him, the subject of me moving to Chico, California came up. Remarkably, he was a consultant for an NBC affiliate there and told me who to contact when I arrived in Chico. Once I was settled, I contacted the station and was practically hired over the phone just by dropping this consultant's name. My new boss said it was karma that I be there--how often does someone from Chico travel to Italy and meet someone who is moving to Chico? I didn't argue with him...but I know now that karma was not a factor.

It's too late to make a long story short, but life stepped in. Children happened. Death happened. There were many barriers that prevented me from continuing a career in the broadcasting field. Eventually, I pursued other interests and put videography behind me, accepting that those days were long gone. Now, it has come full circle and I'm able to tap into my love for editing once more. I get more than my fill of video production through working with Powhatan Community Church. My biggest challenge now is learning to say no and allowing others to participate, too.

In hindsight, my entire journey has been about God getting me from point A (a 19-year-old southern belle) to point B (an experienced videographer who serves at PCC). I understand now why there were so many roadblocks later in my broadcasting career. He didn't want me to continue my career path as an editor--He knew if I worked full-time in video, I would have little left to give to Him. Now, I can't get or give enough!

I never heard from my D.J. friend after Basic Training but I hope this mix-up was a God-thing for her, too.

God is amazing and to think...I just wanted a job in the medical field.