As mentioned previously, firearms competency is something that I was going to need to develop in 2025. Thus, I had an opportunity to spend some time and some extra funds on a training course. No time like the present to get my ass kicked…
The lesson started in the range’s classroom; the instructor flipped through some PowerPoint slides as she went over key terms and concepts. After that, the learning turned practical. She had all of us take turns getting up in front of the class to demonstrate our stance and grip. Ever the eager beaver, I was one of the early volunteers.
I grabbed the gun and went into my stance. The instructor adjusted my grip slightly, mostly to fine-tune. After holding the gun in shooting position, then it came time to lock the slide back, and that’s when my recently-formed bad habits had truly taken center-stage. I had inadvertently learned to pull the slide back with my hand in front of the ejection port instead of from behind it. This exponentially raised the chances of slicing a finger open. To be fair, the instructor was 100% right to call out and viciously condemn this horrible habit of mine. It made me realize that I needed more practice; substantially more.
That was just the tip of the iceberg. The class soon hit the range, and the instructor had us perform a variety of drills in order to test (and ideally, improve) our accuracy. I was using a loaner gun from the range that felt unfamiliar. While the basic mechanics worked the same, the feel was totally different; not unlike driving a car that one isn’t used to.
The instructor opted to spice things up a bit by adding the element of time and retreating distances to the shooting drills. I could barely hit the broad-side of a fucking barn, even at close range. It got to a point where my lane buddy voluntarily skipped his turn in favor of giving me more trigger time; the dude felt bad for me. Needless to say, this torpedoed my self-esteem.
After we got off of the range, we returned to the classroom for an informal debrief. One of the guest instructors who joined mid-way through the lesson started asking some diagnostic questions of the class.
“How many here plan on carrying a gun?” to which I raised my hand.
“How many here are carrying a gun right now?” I raised my hand again.
He focused in on me “Besides the gun, what’re you carrying on you right now?” When I gave him my truthful-though-standard answer of phone/wallet/keys, he gave me a disapproving look. It was just like chemistry class all over again.
In his defense, the instructor wasn’t being a dick. However, he explained that, on top of his pistol, he carried extra magazines, pepper spray, a tourniquet, and a flashlight. His point was that my everyday-carry was clearly deficient. This caused my already rock-bottom confidence to start tunneling, since our range session showed the deficiency of my skills. My stomach had begun to tighten due to the stress of how hard the reality was.
While not an official part of the curriculum, the instructors shone some light on the legal repercussions of firearm use in defensive situations. They went over some recent cases of defensive shooters who were eventually acquitted, typically after months of agony (and this was in the best-case scenario). We were regaled of other cases where the defensive shooter was acquitted criminally, but then lost a civil lawsuit for hefty sums.
They then briefly went over what to do in a defensive situation if a firearm is used. Call the police, state that you feared for your life, report the shooting, and get off the fucking phone. The last part was crucial due to the whole can and will be used against you in the court of law part of your Miranda rights.
“Expect to have the gun confiscated. Don’t be surprised if all of your guns are confiscated. Expect to be cuffed. Expect to spend a few days in jail.” The churning of my stomach only got worse; I knew they were right. Along with the devastating power these tools pack, and how viscerally appalling it would be to have that happen to somebody. I left the training knowing that I was woefully underprepared.
The main instructor went around the room asking all of us our anxiety levels now that the course was over. Every other student cheerily stated that they felt a lot better after taking the six-hour course. However, my turn came and I had to speak truth. I stated out loud, in a room full of witnesses that the class made me feel worse. I mentioned that the class was basically like having a mirror forcefully held up to my face. The mirror’s reflection was unflattering; my current skill level is unacceptable and sub-standard. It made me realize how much work I have to do. Stage 2 of the Dunning-Kruger Effect activated.
Upon first becoming a member of the range, I had received a coupon for a free certification lesson on quick-drawing from a holster. Going into the day, I had planned on cashing it in and getting this part of my training under my belt (haha, see what I did there? under my belt, you know…like a holster). However, given that I had just admitted in a room with four instructors and an Iraq veteran my near-zero confidence level, I decided that I needed a break to mentally recuperate. Quick-draw training will have to happen another day.
As I was leaving the classroom, one of the other guest instructors took initiative and shook my hand. He told me that he respected me for saying what I did; it seems few are willing to publicly admit that they’re not up to par. He was kind and said that he hoped to see me at more trainings and workshops.
Ass thoroughly kicked, more training is needed.
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