Small Doses of Rebellion

Too much seriousness has been going on in this blog lately, so to end the week, I would like to include a little ray of sunshine that will hopefully put a smile on your face and remind you of the crazy old La Justa that you all know and love.

When I first came to Spain and was looking for a job, I had all kinds of interviews, but the one that pissed me off the most was for a secretarial position for a car manufacturer in Spain. The company (or the employment agency they were using) received my resume and called me to set up an interview. They told me on the phone that there would be a brief English exam as it was necessary for the position to speak English fluently. No Problem!

But there was indeed a problem. When I arrived at the interview, I was put in a room full of desks and approximately nine women. Hmmmm...this was a fishy set up to say the least, but I said to myself, "Maybe this is just the waiting room." But of course, I was wrong (not that I ever really believed it was just a waiting room).

A few minutes after arriving, a woman came in and passed out pencils and test booklets. She explained that we would be tested in spelling, math, general intelligence and perspicacity and English. Those of us that scored higher on the test would then be invited to interview. I wanted punch the woman in the face! How flippin smart do you have to be to be a secretary? And how obnoxious of a company was this that they would insult us by giving testing us to make sure we didn´t have the IQ of a monkey? If I was a chimp, wouldn´t it become perfectly clear at some point in the interview?

But I was poor and desperate (still am), and I thought that walking out of the test to show my indignation was not the best way to get a job. So I took the damn test. It was actually sort of fun because we were timed, and when the woman would call stop, I´d quickly look around to see how far the others had gotten. They´d usually gotten further than me because I´m slow as a slug when it comes to taking tests. I tend to read into things way to deeply or get bored and stare off into space. While taking my SAT´s there were a number of times where I unconsciously stopped taking the test and began thinking about what I would be doing later that day. My brain doesn´t deal too well with boredom.

The last part of the exam was an essay we had to write in English. Now, I was already miffed at being treated like a moron that has to prove she´s literate, but the English exam took the cake.

The prompt: Write about your personal trayectory (120 words). Don´t forget to sing the paper when you have finished. (6 points)

Who the hell were these people? And where did they come off asking us to test in English when their English was embarassingly sub-par?

I quickly crossed out "trayectory" and wrote "trajectory" above it, then crossed out "sing" and wrote "sign" above it.

Then, I started my essay.

I´ve been assigned to write about my personal trajectory, that is to say, the experiences I´ve encountered and survived from the date of my birth to the present. This is no easy task, as the assignment is vague and my "trajectory" quite long, although I´ve only lived 24 years. So I suppose I´ll start at the beginning, as most stories do, and explain that I was born in Chicago, Illinois, which also happens to be where I was raised. I am what is now commonly referred to as "first generation American." Neither of my parents is from the U.S. My father is a refugee from Chile, and my mother is a beautiful, modern woman from Spain. I grew up speaking both languages, but only visiting Spain. I didn´t visit Chile until I was 24 years old, but that story comes later in my "trajectory." I loved Spain from the first time I set foot in it, and I visited every time that money would allow. But then I hit 18 and college was the new, necessary major expense. I left Chicago for Northampton, Massachusetts to attend Smith College, a women´s university with an excellent track record dating all the way back to 1876. Smith gave me a lot: a great appreciation of big cities, a forum to express my creativity, and it gave me Spain. My junior year of college, I came to Madrid to study at the Universidad Autonoma. After that year, I knew that there was nowhere I would rather be than here. So I went back to the States, finished my degree in English and Spanish Literature and worked for two years to save up money, and here I am today, writing about my personal trajectory. Maybe you wanted to know more about my professional trajectory, but honestly, that isn´t quite so interesting as what I´ve just told you. And now you know that I choose Spain over even the greatest super power in the world. Even though there are so few worthwhile jobs. Even though the pay is mediocre at best and ascending the professional ladder almost impossible. I still choose Spain. But I guess that´s just where my personality has led me. Now I can only hope that after all the tests to see if I can add and subtract, spell and speak English, I can manage to earn a living and keep adding to my "trayectoria personal."

Then I signed it and added: P.S. This may or may not be more than 120 words.

Proud as a peacock, I exited the testing room and asked the lady if she could photocopy my essay. She did so without asking for an explanation, but if she had asked, I was ready to say, "I´m going to have my English teacher critique it."

Photocopy in hand, I thanked the lady and left. Needless to say, they never called me for a formal interview. Although if they´d been smart they would have.