I started training this week for a second job in the evenings.
(What, you ask, how can you possibly do that? Aren’t you working hard enough already?!?! Oh, Internet, your concern for my wellbeing is sweet, but bear in mind that I do little to nothing for the first eight hours of my working day. It’s true.)
This is just a temporary job scoring the essay portion of state standardized tests. (Wait, do you think that by profiting from the Testing Industrialized Complex, I am tacitly agreeing to No Child Left Behind? I had not thought of that.) (Oh crap.)
Starting next week, I’ll sit and score essays for four hours every evening, but first I must sit and receive training for four hours every evening this week. It seems like an interesting group and I've met some nice people already. BUT. We have assigned seats and unfortunately, I have been assigned to sit in front of the Complainey Twins.
So, ok, they're not really twins. They are of different races and genders and are roughly thirty years apart in age. One bears a striking resemblance to Mr. Yuk while the other, in a word, doesn't. But my, how they share their love of complaining. Much, someone else in the class pointed out, like these two. Except far less amusing.
The Complainey Twins have done this scoring thing before. They know all of the answers better than our trainers do. I know this because they loudly answer every question that anyone asks at the very same time that our trainer is answering it. They openly disagree with most of what the trainer is saying. They complain about every damn thing that anyone says or does. They are worse than the sixteen year-old girls I used to teach who at least had the decency to mutter this is stupid under their breath rather than saying it right out loud.
Last night we did our first exercise. The Complainey Twins did not do so well. This is not because they were wrong in any way. No, the many people from the scoring company and state education association who set the answers are incorrect. See, the Complainey Twins can and do loudly explain why each of their answers was, in fact, correct. It is all of the rest of us who are wrong. Obviously.
I, on the other hand, got mostly the same answers that we were intended to get. Almost all of them, in fact. It turns out that I am a test scoring prodigy! Who knew? Too bad that my one gift can only ever result in seasonal work. I suppose I will just have to content myself with the knowledge that I do possess latent genius, even if it will never bring me wealth or glory. Tragic, yes, but such is often the plight of the extremely gifted, I suppose.
Don't worry about me getting a big head out of all of this. I still have my friends the Complainey Twins to remind me that I probably just suck.