I’ve never had a driver’s license in my life.
Last week I took the first step toward acquiring one by taking the written portion of the test.
You should know that I actually really like tests.
I’m entirely awesome at them.
I’m like the Iron Man of tests. I can just fly in and blast them apart with the laser pulses of my phenomenal brain.
Perhaps because I was a little bit excited, I was probably overly chatty with the Service Ontario clerk whose job it was to check my documentation, administer an eye test and photograph me.
“I haven’t studied for my test, you know!” I blurted out to her. “I think I have a pretty good knowledge of the road rules and the truth is that I really test well! What do you think, do you think I’ll do okay?”
She gave me an unimpressed look, and in a slow Jamaican accent replied, “Sweet Jesus, I do not know HOW you will do, and I am not sure that I care, but I must say that not studying is quite the strategy your big brain has employed. You must set a lovely example for the children.” And then she just looked at me.
“I skipped grade three,” I said, “they called me Gold Star in elementary school, really, I’m great at tests!”
“Yes, I can see it has done you well, a man, now as old as you, yet to have his driver’s license, something my 16 year-old child has. And so Gold Star, what is it that you do for a living now, you are a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon, maybe?”
“ I don’t like to be tied down to one career,” I mumbled, “I think it’s limiting.”
“Yes, I see, I must tell you, I feel very limited right now, very limited.”
“You feel limited because you’re mean.”
She raised an eyebrow at me and snickered.
“Oh, you don’t even want to imagine my mean streak, Gold Star. And now it is picture time. Take off your hat and glasses now, would you?”
I complied.
“Oh my!” the clerk snorted, “ I did not expect your hair to be so grey or for you to have what look’s like a piece of Kraft Dinner in it!” She pointed at me to another clerk who also began to laugh, which I thought very unprofessional.
I removed the piece of Kraft Dinner, which the dog probably put in my hat somehow, and posed for my picture.
“No, don’t smile. Just stand there like you’re trying to intimidate a test. Yes. That’s the look the test will fear, for sure.”
“Can I see the picture?” I asked.
“No, it is against policy for any customer to look at our monitor, but I can assure you that this picture will be providing you with a conversation starter for years to come, not that a chatter box like you will need one. Now off you go and be the lion that roars!”