The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life.
I didn’t feel like writing today, in light of what happened with my fellow blogger Anissa, who suffered a stroke yesterday. For updates and how you can help, you can go here.
But I figured we could all use a distraction today, so this is one of my favorite old posts and you can have a good hearty laugh at my expense. Please. Laugh at me.
(JERKS.)
——————
I’ve mentioned before that after Ben was born, I was struggling mightily with what to Do (with a capitol D) for the rest of my life. Whomever thought that the 18-20 year old bracket was the appropriate age for people to decide what to Do should be strung out and shot somewhere, because, hi, at 20? I was still a blithering idiot.
Difference was, now I was pregnant. And looking to make paychecks larger than so-and-so-measly dollars every week so that Ben and I could (gasp!) move out of my parents’ house. My standards weren’t particularly high, but my options were limited.
Before I decided on nursing, my mom shelled out 20 clams for me to take some sort of career figurer-outer class at the community college. Perfect, I thought as I left my screaming child behind. I just KNOW that the people running this class will see my inherent star quality! Perhaps they will just HAND me a diploma and maybe even put me on Star Search! I just KNOW I’m miles ahead of the rest of the knuckle-draggers in this class!
I showed up to a motley band of scraggly people all sitting rather reluctantly in a small classroom. I was instantly confused. I mean, why would someone PAY to voluntarily subject themselves to this and be unhappy about it later?
I took a seat at a table by a large no-nonsense looking woman with extremely long fuchsia fingernails. Each had a nice sunset scene carefully painted upon it and I was semi-jealous. I’d never considered my fingernails as a medium for such wonderousness. I thought about telling her how much I dug her nails, but one look at the beady mean eyes peering out of her doughy face told me that I should keep my goddamned mouth shut.
Undeterred, but still sort of unsure if I was in the right place, I carefully pulled out some scratch paper from my backpack and waited patiently for the instructor to come in and recognize my obvious superiority.
I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, about 20 minutes after the class was set to begin, our instructor breezed in. Rather than scan the room to find the superstar among the drones (that would be me. The superstar, not the drones), he simply began passing out a big fat folder crammed with papers.
Once the folders were all passed out, he simply told us to begin filling out the test within the folder. Use the pencil, he warned us, or the Scantron machine wouldn’t be able to score it.
Well, okay, I said to myself. I like tests. I’m really GOOD at tests. I bet this TEST will tell me that I rule and that I should just bypass school entirely and become an heiress. Fucking SWEET.
I happily opened the test up and prepared to meet my destiny (or density. Whatever).
I noticed unhappily that the test was one of those gradient ones where I had to say from 1-4 how interested (one being least and 4 being most) I was in the statement. Like this:
1 2 3 4 I am interested in becoming a ditch digger.
Okay, I thought, brow furrowed in concentration. Is this a trick question? It sounds like a trick question. I mean, who would want to become a ditch digger? And wait, aren’t they called something more PC now, like a Hole Management Expert?
I looked around the room, expecting to see a sea of confused faces and to my dismay, everyone else was studiously filling out the form.
I furiously scratched a line into 1, praying this wasn’t a trick question, and went on to the next question.
1 2 3 4 I am interested in tracking statistical marketing data.
Uh…uh…uh, I thought frantically. Are they talking about the people who stalk you at the mall, begging you to do taste tests and surveys? EW. No thanks. That’s one of those jobs you just sort of fall into, not something that you aspired to.
1 2 3 4 I am interested in hosting parties.
Finally, I cried to myself, FINALLY! Something I could totally do! I LOVE hosting parties! Hooray!
I furiously scribbled a 4 and went on to the next.
1 2 3 4 People would call me a methodical person.
Hmmm….I thought. Is this a trick question? I don’t know that anyone that would think of me in those terms. I scribbled a 3, just guessing what people might say about me and moved on.
I spent the rest of the test, all 232 questions, in much the same vein. Finally, it was over and we were instructed to go on break. I took that opportunity to visit the computer lab and check my email. I laughed my way through a couple of those forward How Well Do You Know Me emails (which turned, I must add, into meme’s years later) and when it was time, slunk back in to the room.
My star quality was no longer sparkling.
The instructor passed out sheets of paper with our results on it, a certain combination of letters. Those letters, he explained, would correspond to a set of jobs that I was uniquely qualified for.
I frantically searched through page after page of letter combinations until I got to mine. My eyes rested on the job I would be happiest with:
Veterinarian (poultry).
Yes. A chicken doctor. Wow. The possibilities. Wow.
That must be a glitch, I said to myself. On down the line I went.
Brick Layer.
My third?
Mosaic Tile Layer.
Uh. Jesus. Uh. Yeah.
*blink, blink, blink*
I was uniquely qualified to become Becky Sherrick, Doctor Of Chickens or Becky Sherrick, Layer of Bricks. Fucking awesome.
I was not even REMOTELY of Star Quality ™. No one was going to beat down my door to be on Wheel Of Fortune or American Idol. No one was going to have me bikini model cars or become a sexy astrophysicist. No one was going to beat down my door: period.
Unless they happened to wear feathers and cluck. A lot.
Who’s Brick? I mean, if he’s cute…
*cue porno music*
Ha. I’d send my chickens to you.
In another vein, I *LOVE* the whole fact that they have a chicken vet put as an option!
I’m just shocked. I wonder if that’s even a subspecialty in vet school. I suppose it could be.
Snork!!
I did one of these around the same age and it said I should be in Caregiver for Special Needs Children.
Really? At that age the only special needs I was taking care of was trying to get my special needs met by getting boys naked. Not a difficult thing to do at that age . . . Here scratch my special needs . . . Okay . . .
Turns out I was a really good Typesetter for awhile until MacIntosh computers reduced those jobs by 90 percent. Now I am an amazing, super wondrous office clerk. Still meeting special needs of bosses who are dumb like rocks, only now I don’t get naked.
Hey, there you go dude. Better than a fucking CHICKEN VET. I was so offended.
I’m so sad to read about Anissa. Thoughts and prayers are with you all. . .
Thank you, Bluey.
I had to do one of these in high school. Like yours mine was completely wrong. I think the machines are messes up or either the teacher doesn’t know how to work the damn thing. By the way can You come lay some bricks at my house? 🙂
Shit, maybe I should TRY and see if I can actually lay bricks! I could use some, uh, bricks I guess. And my bathroom needs to be re-tiled.
1) I’m sorry about your friend… that suxxorz. I’ll keep her in my thoughts.
2) Chicken Vet? Seriously? That’s an option? Dude. I’d say “I wanna be a Chicken Vet!” except I hate birds. Unless they be deep fried and on my plate. In which case, birds are awesome and I totally want some.
Mosaic Tile Layer, on the other hand, could be kinda fun. Especially if you get all OCD on its ass and do specific designs. Or nekkid designs. *snicker snicker* Somebody would commission me, and I’d totally present them with a mosaic of a nekkid lady. Who wants overdone ocean waves and sunsets? Bitch, please. Nekkid ladies ALL THE WAY!
I don’t think I could make anything with mosaic if I tried. I’m seriously not creative like that. I could follow instructions, but that’s probably not the point, you know?
Those might just be the best answers I’ve ever seen off of one of those tests.
(I made my husband take a couple after he was laid off almost 2 yrs ago shhh)
Now I’m tempted to retake these tests just to see how I do! Maybe I should do a Blogger In The Field Day where I take this test again! Ha.
That’s funny! I took one of those tests in high school. It said I was qualified to be a funeral home director. On a sort of related note, I did work at a pet crematorium (sp?) as a secretary for a brief moment in college.
HOLY SHIT. That’s kind of awesome. Makes me wonder what you said that would lead you down that path.
AH, I love this post!
I’ve been out of the bloggy loop a bit. You been ok, love?
I’m just fine. Same as I ever am. Kicking ass and taking names.
What happened to the doughy woman with the cool nails? She might break them brick laying…
She probably was told that she should be the CEO of Microsoft of something.
You bitch!!! 🙂 I totally have coffee all over my keyboard now. I was reading and drinking and I was not expecting the “Chicken Doctor” part.
Really funny. Now I must clean away the stickiness…
Clean away the stickiness…..Please someone tell me Im not the only one that snickered when they read that…
Trust me, neither was I. Who the hell subspecializes in CHICKENS?
Do you have a wallet that says bad mother clucker?
You KNOW I do.
I’m pretty sure I remember taking that class. I figured that I needed a little direction in life and, well, my results were probably just as disturbing as yours. I think I was just destined to be mommy. Queen of my castle. Just wonder what I’ll end up doing once the kids are in school…..room mom, perhaps? PTA/PTO ring leader??? Maybe. My possibilities are endless…right??
I’m pretty sure that your possibilities are endless 🙂
When are advisors gonna learn? The Scantron can’t recognize anything that isn’t a #2 pencil, so it stands to reason that it is completely inept at recognizing potential! Makes me wonder if Charles Manson took one of those tests, was told he should be a chicken vet, and said Fuck you! I’m gonna start a cult! And that’s how it’s all started….. 😉
I sincerely hope that Anissa pulls through. 🙁
Like something on a gradient can somehow measure your potential. HA.
So sorry for your friend. Here’s hoping she pulls through…
Saying my prayers too. Thank you.
oh Dr. Clucker, you cluck me up!!!!
Hope your friend gets better.
Dr. Clucker. Dude. That would be the best name EVER. I think I should change my name.
I’ll be thinking of her and her family, and hoping like mad that she makes a full recovery. It’s just awful, fucking awful. And that’s putting it nicely.
did you ask for a refund?!
Hope your friend gets better soon!
I really should have demanded a refund for that class. It was total crap.
I call those stupid tests “Lie Tests” because they always have questions like:
It is wrong to kill. 1 2 3 4(Yeah it is fuckers!)
Killing in self defense is okay. 1 2 3 4(yeah it is fuckers!)
People who kill are bad. 1 2 3 4(OH FUCK!)
I always think there should be a line after each question that allows you to explain…but that would just confuse the #2 pencil reader machine.
That’s what I’m saying! I want to EXPLAIN myself! Like, SOMETIMES I like to throw parties, but I’m not like a PARTY girl.
Hey, at least as a bricklayer you’d be doing something constructive (get it, construction? I kill me).
Worst job I ever had: Selling vacuum cleaners door-to-door my first summer outta college. That was NOT the world beating down my door, either.
Holy shit, that would be the worst job ever. Kind of like that was the worst joke ever. Seriously 😉
So instead of rectally probing chickens, you chose to be a SAHM?
Dude. It’s almost the same thing.
That’s terrible about Anissa. Sending prayers to her, her family, and you, sweetie.
Well, I have to know!!! What happened to you after that?! Off to brick laying school? 😉
DUH. I am a senior mosaic tile layer. What’s funny is that I have no patience for shit like that. Honestly, I don’t. I’d kill someone if I had to do that for a job.
It sucks how life kicks GOOD people in the face sometimes. Anissa is in my thoughts.
She’s been in mine as well. Non-stop.
I took an apptitude test in high school. It was supposed to help you pick a career, too. Only we had to take real tests with math and brainy stuff like that. And we had to do manual dexterity tests. I am such a clutz that a guy with 2 fingers on each hand better than me in them. (Seriously.) And I should be a dentist.
DENTIST? Wow. That’s pretty high class! Look at you all HIGH CLASS on me 😉
I kind of assumed it was because dentists are loners and kind of depressed. But I’ll go with high class instead.
Oh – a really stupid guy that took it got “model” and he was so thrilled. He bragged about his gorgeousness for months.
Dentists have the highest rates of suicide, apparently. So maybe there’s something to that.
We had a similar test in elementary school — must have been grade 6 or so as we had to be able to mark our responses in the circles. I was deemed suitable to become a steam shovel driver.
I hope your friend makes a full recovery, I’ve checked her blog on and off these past few months and really, how much crap must one family go through?
I think that’s what baffles me too. I cannot believe the heaping dose of crap that family has been dealt.
And steam shovel driver? That’s pretty cool!
LOL. Sorry for laughing. But I admire the wise sense of humor you injected into a period in your life that must have seem extremely frenzied and confusing. The title of the post says it all. In terms of someone in feathers? I have one for you. How’s paul simon? Too old for you? A great singer though.
http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi574291993/
😉
Sometimes, all you can do is laugh. Really.
LAME. When I take tests like that I always try to skew them in my favor. Which of course defeats the purpose of the tests. Also? Gradient tests can lick my balls.
Gradient tests are so full of the bullshit it’s almost ridiculous.
I’m saying a prayer for your friend and her family. I had read her blog some time ago when you had mentioned Maddie or had linked to blogs about other babies, I think? But now it’s fuzzy.
Thank you for saying a prayer for her. It’s all we can do.
Maybe you could make brick homes for chickens and then take care of them!
Dude. Now THAT is pure brilliance.
I donated to anissa. so sad.
I’m just in shock.
I remember taking those tests but don’t remember the answers. If you were a chicken vet, would you choke em?
Veterinarian (poultry)! That is SO FUNNY! And so…wrong.
Dentists have one of the highest rates of suicide? Are you kidding me? With all the money they charge, what the hell have they got to be depressed about. I’m the one who should be depressed after paying 1200 for a stinkin’ crown on Tuesday.
So sorry about Anissa ;( Thanks for letting me know how to help!
Toll booth collectors too. What the hell?
Hahaha! Poultry? Good luck to that career! It’s not that bad but we can see that you were surprised with the result.
I used to do closed captioning, and we did a lot of corporate training videos–including an entire masonry series. Bricklaying is seriously hard. If you were any good at it, you would be the most amazing person I actually know. So how’s that for star quality?
Bricklaying is impossible. I couldn’t do it. I have the patience of a gnat on speed. I can barely make it through answering my comments without getting up to scratch my ass 3836323 times.
They were so wrong! You are a star. I think a mosaic tile layer has artistic possibilities though.
I assume this happened after the driving incident you described over at Notes From the Grove? I read that today and couldn’t help but remember this and laugh at the irony…. (And crack up every time I think of the phrase “carnage and feathers.”) So you didn’t feel called to a life of saving chickens to atone for past sins???
This absolutely happened after the driving incident at Notes From The Grove. How is that not just the most ridiculous thing ever?