Commander Benjamin Sisko, sitting in Quark’s, stared gloomily into the dregs of his third Bajoran ale. Almost everyone kept their distance, but Jadzia Dax walked over, carrying a hot raktajino.
“What’s on your mind, Ben?”
Sisko sighed. “Admiral Hill is blocking my promotion to Captain. I had said I didn’t have long-held plans or feel it was owed to me. Now she claims I’m being dishonest. Apparently she interviewed my kindergarten teacher in New Orleans, who remembered me saying I wanted to become a Starfleet captain.”
“Just tell the admirals you wanted to be a baseball player in second grade.”