Some of you may know that for five years I was a social worker.  I worked at a domestic violence shelter for women and children as their court advocate.  This meant I attended every 9:00 AM arraignment in the five county area, offered support and services to battered women, provided those with restraining orders when needed and transported women to their divorce/custody hearings.  That was my "day" shelter job, my mild-mannered job.  At night I became the support group super hero twice a week for two hours a pop.  In these groups I assisted women in finding their strengths and cheered them in overcoming their weaknesses.  Wednesday nights for me were slightly different.  Those evenings I assisted in facilitating the court appointed anger management group for the men convicted of abusing their partners.  I had the backbone and no nonsense attitude to sit in a room full of twelve angry men, twelve bitter and deeply drowning in denial men who thought they didn't need to be there because their wife "had it coming" when she stepped in front of the T.V. during the Super Bowl.  I was one of those who showed them, through a ten week process, that they deserved far worse than just a Wednesday night class.  I was working sixty hours a week, but living off the quote from William DeMille; "I have always admired the ability to bite off more than one can chew and then chew it."  How did I get this job?  I went to college, Mate.  Degrees work wonders.

I was also a Dental Hygienist for three years following the stint as a social worker.  With radiologist license in hand, I was allowed by the State to take x-rays and develop and analyze them for the doctor in charge.  I was also allowed by the State to assist in drillings, fillings, crownings and oral surgery.  In fact, once I helped my doctor remove an entire bottom jaw.  I held it in my hands, polished all bone chips off with a 1/16th drill bit and held it in place while it was wired to the unfortunate bloke's head.  How did I get this job?  I answered an ad in the paper, interviewed and the dentist paid for my training and offered me an apprenticeship.  He felt I had the personality to do the job, and until he retired, I did it daily.

So what am I getting at exactly?  Is this just caring and sharing hour?  Nope.  This is leading to an issue at my current job.  Keep reading.

Now I'm a waitress, as everyone knows.  I'm waiting tables because the hours are more flexible even if the pay cut is a tremendous blow to the head.  But when you have wee ones, one of those being in school, you take what works out best for them.  I could shove them in a daycare, but why pay someone else to put them in therapy when they're 18 years old when I can do it for free.  That's my motto.  But enough of motto's and on to the story…

I decided to be a trainer at work about the same time I was asked to be a trainer at work.  Go figure.  I decided it would look more promising on a resume, and since I had been at the restaurant long enough it just made sense.  The funny part is, to be a trainer, this franchise asks that you take a personality test first.  So I sat down with a cup of coffee, a little pencil and the booklet and began.  I recognised the test from my social work days.  It was a typical Missouri Bell Test, the ones where they ask you the same question repeatedly but rephrase it to "trick" you.  Since I used to give a similar test to my batterers, I knew how to answer honestly, and keep my answers continual so as not to fail.  When asked, "Have you ever felt so angry you could just punch a wall?" I blackened the "yes" box.  Who hasn't?  When asked, "Do you find some people easier to work with than others?" I scribbled in the "yes" box.  I answered honestly, just as human nature says.  We as mammals do not get along with everyone in every single situation.  We as mammals don't always smile and act chipper when we've spilt barbeque sauce down our white shirts.  If some vixen steals our man, when the electric company shuts off our power, when someone cuts in front of you at the DMV we'll wish we could punch a wall… at least.  It's human nature.

So you can imagine my surprise when I got the test results back and failed miserably.  This franchise doesn't want the human response, they want the robot response.  I should have answered "No", that never, not one time, have I ever wanted to punch a wall.  Not even when the wall had it coming for having a smart mouth.  I was asked to take it again, and this time my boss encouraged me to answer more basically.  He suggested I answer more as a "team" than as an individual.  I had to redirect my analytical mind to answer "Why, no.  Feeling like punching a wall is non-productive.  Let's roll silverware and be friends."  So I did.  And again, failed by just one point.  My personality results showed that "The individual is social and out-going but lacks leadership skills".  So, being a trainer was out of the question for the time being because one is only allowed to test twice in a quarter. 

Psst… I'm still a trainer, but an "under the table" one because everyone else quit, leaving me as the only applicable person.  But I'm still stymied.  I lack leadership skills?  In waitressing?  Yep, I'm not a Waitress General.  I led support groups with people's lives literally in my hands.  The State of Ohio felt I was capable and qualified to administer nitrous oxide to patients and provide dental charts for the county coroner.  In both jobs I was in charge of the OSHA regulations and MSDS data sheets for Christ sake, but yet, now I find I am incapable (and near retarded) to teach a non-waitress how to add a spoon to a coffee cup and show her where the napkins are stored so that she may become a really-real waitress.  I'm simply not the non-waitress's Blue Fairie.

I mean, what if the test is right?  What if all I am is social?  What if it came down to a Waitress War and I was all about the kicks and giggles and was only able to check ID's at Check Point Charlie while the real "Leaders" held waitressing summits in Geneva?  What if, during said waitress war, I can't handle the pressure and fake a wound and run home leaving my comrades in the melee?  That's what the test meant about "feeling like punching a wall".  It really means that I'd buckle under pressure and come undone… kind of like I'm doing now, rather dramatically.  I mean, a Waitress War?  What am I smoking?

It's time for me to retest any day now.  I'm just waiting for my boss to bring me that wretched booklet and the little pencil.  I'm sooooo looking forward to a third rejection for such a white-collar job.  I'm half tempted to decline it on grounds that my religion frowns upon the egotistical ideals of a personality.  Perhaps if I write in the answer of "Oh, maybe" to every question, I'd come up with a 50% personality... socially equivocal of a Hemingway with the leadership skills of a Cub Scout.