Craptitude Test

Today, I had to take an aptitude based placement test for a job that applied to around a month ago.  I was surprised to receive a letter from the company considering how long it had been since I had applied.  But, sure enough, the letter said I was scheduled to take the test today and so I did.

So, I walked into the testing area and the place is filled with middle-aged women.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the letter referred to me as Ms. Brannon.  I guess the general consensus is that the position I applied for was more of a woman’s job but screw that, I am just as competent as those premenopausal Maudes.  I took my seat at the end of the row next to a lady and waited for the other people to arrive.  I scanned the room and realized I was up against some definite competition.  Not only were there at least thirty other applicants but they were probably all much more experienced than I was.  I wasn’t feeling too good about this.  Plus, there was a pretty hefty booklet in front of me as well as an answer sheet and some blank pages that I assumed were to do mathematical work on.  Crap.  Math.  My downfall.  It felt like I was in high school taking my ACT test (or SAT for those of you that took that one).  A part of me felt like it was hopeless but it worked in my favor because I felt more relaxed.  If I screw up it’s not like it’s going to matter, like I’ll be publicly embarrassed or anything.  No one even knows who I am.

The actual test began and it was incredibly simple.  Boosted my confidence a little bit.  Well, until the math.  It was the last section and the most dreaded.  It started out well enough with questions that had to do with correctly identifying and writing out numbers and then it got into a little addition, some subtraction and then it got tougher with multiplication, division and then I hit a wall with the fractions.  In fact, I didn’t even get to the fractions.  The test was timed and the math portion was twenty-five minutes long and I hadn’t even made it half way when the proctor told us we only had five minutes left to complete it.  I pooped in my pants a little bit.  When she called time, I had around ten answers to go.  Not good.  But, what could I do?  She said pencils down.

I pretty much don’t feel good about this job.  Not only were those ladies probably more experienced but they can probably actually do math.  Growing up with calculators, my mental mathematics are frail and laughable.  Oh, well.  I didn’t have any expectations going into the testing or for the job so I can’t say I’m let down, which is a good thing.  As I’ve come to realize, expectations equal disappointment.  The lady said the company would be sending out letters telling us if we had passed the test or not.  It’s not so much that I’m worried about not getting the job, I’m just worried about getting that letter telling me I had failed hard, at least in the math section.  I already know I’m kind of dumb and I just don’t need that reminder.  And have it in writing, no less.  

The chances of me becoming a male escort are getting greater every day…

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