The test.

Though some call it an assessment.

(Press play to have me read this aloud. I promise, this one is worth it.)

Okay, okay, room number 210. Room 210. Wait, is it room 210? Where is that paper again? I thought I had it here in my pocket. Okay, yes, it is definitely room 210. It looks like a lot of people are heading into that room. Am I late? They told us to bring a pencil. Well, two pencils and some paper, if we wanted to take notes. Did I remember them? Let me check my backpack one more time. Great, I have them. Whew.

“Welcome, everyone! Welcome. Please go check in at the table in the front of the room. That’s where you will officially sign in.”

Table? What table? They said in the front of the room. I don’t see a table. Why is everyone walking to the back? Oh, I see the table now. It’s in the BACK of the room. Whatever, it’s fine. Why is it so loud in here?

“Now, don’t forget, everyone, we will be starting in about 5 minutes. So, if you have to get something to eat or use the restroom, now is the time.”

Hmmm, I’m not really hungry, but maybe I should eat something. I don’t know what’s in that food though.

“Don’t worry, they had it catered from Twisters. It’s all really good.”

I looked at the person standing next to me now, “What?”

“Oh, you asked about the food.”

“No, I didn’t”

“Yes, you did. Well, you said you didn’t know what’s in it. You said it kinda loud.”

“It’s spicy!” said another person, as they came up and just stared at a platter of breakfast burritos.

I don’t like spicy. I don’t think I want that.

“That guy in the white coat over there, he just called ME spicy. Something about my brain,” they said, still staring at the burritos.

What?

“Yeah, he’s in charge,” someone now on the other side of me said.

Am I actually talking out loud? Okay, okay, I don’t want food. Maybe I should go to the bathroom. Where is the bathroom?

“Four minutes, everyone!”

Four minutes? What? I haven’t even signed in yet. My god, it’s cold in this room. How are people walking around in shorts? Gotta find the bathroom. Gotta find the bathroom. Oh, wow, what’s THAT table? It’s got so much cool stuff on it. Paints, yarn, notebooks, baseball gloves. Is that a waffle maker? Oh, I see, the sign on the table says: Things That No Longer Interest Me. Huh. Had I known, I would have brought that sewing machine and all that fabric I never used. Oh well. Where did they say the bathroom is?

“Did you try the food?” the man in the white coat asked me, while I made my way to the back of the room to sign in.

Do I have my pencils? Did I forget them?

“It looks like some of you have started to group together,” the man in the white coat said, but to the entire room now. “I know it is fun to meet new people, but remember to not form groups. Each of you is unique and very special,” he continued. “There is no one else here like you.”

Another person is an off-white coat (do they call the color eggshell?) flipped a switch on the wall, turning on bright overhead lights. The whole room, including me, audibly gasped.

“Oops! Sorry, everyone. I was looking for the switch for the fans,” they said as they flipped the switch back off.

Thank goodness. Relief.

“Three minutes, everyone! Find your seats soon!”

What. Where do I sit? I haven’t checked in yet. I see a lot of people walking around wearing name tags.

“Are you hot? I’m really hot,” someone said to me, visibly sweating. “I think it’s really hot in here!”

“If anyone is cold, feel free to take one of these sweatshirts,” said the man in the white coat, who seems to be in charge, I’ve noticed, too.

“Don’t bother,” said someone carrying a sweatshirt and scratching their neck. “Those things are itchy AF.”

Now I’ve really got to go to the bathroom.

“Take your seats everyone, we are about to get started!”

What? Oh, my goodness. Okay. I’ll just sit down right here. Everyone has a name tag here, but not with names? Looks like initials? Whatever. Do I sit here?

Or do I sit over there with that group? There are so many people there! Those girls over there look safe. And I can tell they all have masks, just like me.

“Take your pencils out now, everyone. You’ll find paper under your seat.”

“What. Were we supposed to bring pencils? Ugh. I totally forgot,” said one girl.

“Don’t worry, I have a few,” said another, looking into her backpack. “Oh, wait. They are all broken. I need a pencil, too!”

I have pencils. But I need my pencils. I can’t give my pencils away. I won’t tell anyone about my pencils.

“You’ll have 45 minutes to complete this test. Ready? Go!”

What. Oh, my god. I don’t even know what this is about. Oh, It’s just a bunch of questions about…me. My routines. Things I like. Oh, this is easy.

The person next to me seemed really stressed out. “Will we get graded on this,” she asked, nearly in tears, to no one in particular. “My parents get mad at me for bad grades.” Then, she just sat there, the whole time, staring at the table with all the cool things on it.

I’m done early. Plenty of time to spare. Gosh, everyone here looks so interesting. Oh, that guy is wearing headphones. I didn’t know we could bring headphones.

“You have 2 minutes left,” said the man in the white coat. “And you will get your results in about a week or so.”

“I really hope I did well,” says another girl, as we were walking out of the room. “My mom said we want to be like that man.”

“Like the guy in the white coat?” I asked, a little confused.

“Yeah, I guess most of us aren’t. We never will be. Him and his perfect white teeth. His perfect hair. That perfectly ironed coat. His non-spicy brain, whatever that means.”

Most people who left the room looked nothing like him. I thought they looked far more interesting. Especially those with the name tags with the initials. I never got a name tag.

A few people were running INTO the room, “What do you mean I’m late? Oh, man. My dad is gonna kill me. Sorry, I got wrapped up checking out all the things people left on that table outside the room. All that cool stuff!”

Yikes, I hope my parents aren’t mad at me. I hope I did well on the test.

“Wait,” I said to the person walking out next to me. “Who is that guy? Why do we want to be like him?”

“Oh, that’s Norm. We are all supposed to be like him. But very few of us are, though we try to be even though it’s really hard and feels impossible.”

“Yep, that’s Norm,” said the girl behind me, eating what is probably a now-cold breakfast burrito. “Between us, he’s really not that special. He just got a really great PR team.”