Buck up, little camper

With my first week of training behind me, I was standing, bleary-eyed, pumping gas I can’t really afford because we came into the pay cycle in a weird place and we will have to work three full weeks before we get a check. I was trying to be positive, trying to believe that I can do this. Unfortunately, I fell asleep the night before to the sound of my oldest crying herself to sleep because I had to tell her she couldn’t join a club that meets several days a week after school because I need her to be home with her little brother in the afternoons. Oh yes, I thought bitterly, I am living the American dream. Then I kicked myself for even thinking such a stupid, cliche thing. Approximately 82% of the U.S. population has made some wise-ass remark about “the American dream” in the last 8 months. Geez Molly, can’t you even be original in your whining?

We spent the last day of our training week doing timed tests, though we weren’t told we were being timed before we started. It wasn’t until we were called one at a time into a small office (ie: glorified cube w/ door) to go over our results that we knew we had just been subjected to the first standardized testing of our abilities. On my way back to my cube, I felt like I was staggering a bit. In fact, I ran smack into the geeky kid’s back, knocking a stack of papers out of his hands. The reason for my disorientation: I had done well on my test. Really well. I was in the top three in our training class, actually.

And I realized that I was stunned for a few reasons. First and foremost, I was certain I would be told to gather up my things and leave the property in that meeting. That I have been floundering seemed to be public knowledge. And I was shocked because I realized that other than the trainer telling me to slow down, I had not received one other word of feedback throughout the entire week. I had no idea how THEY felt I was doing, and so I assumed that I was just a giant disappointment to everyone. And the third reason I was I surprised goes like this: I knew that if I really wasn’t doing well, no one would blame me if I suddenly had to bolt on this job. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even blame myself. But if I was doing well, I was pretty much stuck here until I actually found the job of my dreams. (Note to self: Buck up little camper. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.)