Light-Wheel Vehicle Mechanic Analysis

At the tender age of 18 I served as a soldier in the United States Army stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina with my Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) being a 63B1P (Light Wheel Vehicle Mechanic/Paratrooper). I never was a great mechanic, but the Army did provide technical manuals (TMs) that served as guides for repairing any vehicle that I was qualified to work on. It was literally a step-by-step list on how to service, troubleshoot, and repair vehicles. Step number one in all TMs stated, “Remove operating key from ignition.” This sounds so simple as to think why it would even be necessary to write it down. It only makes sense to remove the one object that could prevent these things from happening since the mechanic may have his or her hands in a precarious location where they could be injured if the engine were started or be lying underneath the vehicle susceptible to being run over if someone drove away in the vehicle. Yet this one tidbit of so-called common sense must not be so common after all because the U.S. Army

Ethics codes are created and enforced to support the very thing the helping profession is supposed to be doing, helping. When a therapist cannot remove their preoccupation of self and place others at the forefront the “Do no harm” mantra becomes an afterthought. In his book, “Risk Management: Clinical, Ethical, & Legal Guidelines for Successful Practice”, Doverspike (2015) provides practical information that, if followed, should minimize the risk inherent in the helping profession because “it is easier to avoid an ethics complaint than it is to defend one” (p. 3). In the first three chapters, the prevailing themes are: 1) Competence, 2) informed consent, and 3) boundaries, respectively. Additionally, the author suggests “when considering options, the ultimate ethics question is “What’s in the best interest of the client?”” (p.