The hum of my soldering iron teaches you patience, same way a shooter learns trigger control—but nobody warns you about the forms, yaar. Last week a young fellow came in, needed a phone stand fixed, and he was telling me how his father used to shoot in the state team but gave up because the paperwork for ammo licenses ate up all his weekends. We judge a system by results, boss: if a farmer’s son has to run from the range to the collector’s office instead of practicing, the medal machine rusts.
#pistol
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