If I signed up to take a series of aptitude tests in the career center, I would then be allowed to miss an ENTIRE AFTERNOON of classes while I took said aptitude tests. Being an enterprising young lady, I naturally signed up. I then spent the afternoon in a quiet sunny room by myself, cheerfully filling row after row of little bubbles in with my #2 pencil. I finished quickly and took full advantage of being in the room alone by rifling through files until I found my own and scanning thorough my secret administrative records.
A week or so later, I was called out of class with a slip of paper summoning me back to the career center to discuss my results. I got to miss more class! Bonus!
I can't recall the name of my small Catholic school's counselor, but I do recall much of what he said. And also, because I am a bit of a pack rat, I still have the folder he handed me on that day. I present his findings:
Then, as now, I found the results hilarious. The tests showed that I required a job in which I was intellectually and creatively stimulated. And it inferred that I may have a bit of a problem with authority, so I had best work alone. The test also pointed out my biggest failings:
Orderliness, Leadership, and Social. The next few pages go on to explain that under no circumstances should I have a career that requires me to be around other people or more importantly to HELP other people. There is a half page devoted to how little regard I have for altruism.
Even at 14, I was already an angry little misanthrope. Ahhhh.... it's almost like a handicap then, right? Like I can't help it?
That test for the most part knew what it was talking about. But the part about altruism is dead wrong. For all of my prickly, muttering-angry-old-man exterior, I actually have a giving soul and a heart so soft it has gone rather mushy. I enjoy doing kind and unexpected things for strangers, I give (well, occasionally at least) to charity, and I would do pretty much anything for the people I care about. Post-college, I even had a brief stint as a hostess/waitress at a restaurant frequented largely by old people and I actually really enjoyed serving.
On the flipside, one place where my misanthropy really does come in to play is in being touched by strangers. As in, if a cashier touches my hand while giving me change, I shudder just a bit.
Does this make me psycho? Was the test right? I was reflecting on all of this a couple of weeks ago when I went to get a manicure. I was going to a swanky networking party and I wanted my hands to look a bit less like the monkey paws they usually resemble. I had not gotten a manicure since my wedding 5 years ago.
I went into the salon and requested my manicure. I sat there struggling and failing to not to be freaked out while a small bitchy woman who spoke barely any English clipped away at my cuticles. Across from me were a mother and daughter getting simultaneous pedicures. They were sprawled out on reclining chairs, looking positively blissed out while three women crouched at their feet, scrubbing furiously. I calmed myself by reflecting on how much worse it would be if I was getting a pedicure and having my feet handled by a stranger instead of my hands. The very thought makes my skin crawl just to type.
And there you have it: I can help people. I will enjoy helping people. But I must never, under any circumstances, have to touch them.
5 comments:
I think it's really funny that i get to read about my children's escapades years later in a blog. I also think that except for the "social" aspect our profiles would read exactly the same. Even as a baby you would get totally pissed off if someone tried to touch you or engage you. I thought "how can a baby be so surly to people she doesn't know"? You loved to be cuddled and talked to by your family and from day one you had an extremely self-sufficient and independent spirit.
love you lots for all who you are. xoxo mom
I hear ya on the touching. I used to have a boss who would surprise touch whilst walking past, he may have been trying to be friendly? But...I genuinely still recoil thinking about this; it was like a much unwanted caress. Yuck. And yes you do seem to be a big sweetheart!
Oh I HATE being touched, too! I was just griping to myself the other day while I was waiting in line and people kept bumping and brushing me with their bags, backpacks, shoulders, and even worse... HANDS. it irks me to no end when people stand too close to me - I always take it as a personal affront, like they're trying to annoy me.
What I hate most, though? You know when you're pawing through the clearance racks, and there's always that 1 woman (okay usually 2-3) who has to come over from the other end of the store to stand exactly where you're standing, grab across you with her big, rude arm and reach for the item of clothing right next to you. Or, if they're even bigger barbarians, the exact shirt you're looking at.
I have literally had the same buffoon follow me across an entire store, as if everything I touched became candy to them. It is those moments that I wish pepper spraying people who get to close was more socially acceptable. :)
I am the same way! I dislike people outside of my close circle touching me (and it is a very small circle). I don't like authority either and I hate people. I think I'm headed in a good direction!
I wouldn't call you crazy. I have a relative who finds the idea of pedicures repulsive.
And 'monkey paws' is still making me smile.
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