I just had the most horrific mind-fuck of my life, which in roundabout way was self-inflicted. As some of you may know, I’ve been in the application process for the CPD for almost 2 years now (Bureaucracy in Chicago? Says who!?). Since mid-2006, I’ve been tested in more ways than I knew necessary.
This morning’s “test” was a personal meeting with a doctor based off a previous written psychological exam… and it SUCKED. It has made me anxious, self-conscious and given a weird mix of emotions which I have never experienced before. Basically, after filling out Scantron after Scantron a few weeks prior, the psyc company highlighted “important” or “questionable” responses for each psychologist to delve further in to.
For example, one of the written exam questions was: “Are you currently irritated?”
My answer at the time: “Yes.”
This is a great example of one of the many questions during the 40 minute meeting. It was meant to bring out some deep-seeded, internal frustration of the world around me.
He delved with this leading question, “So why do you think that you feel irritated?”
I responded too honestly for him with, “I don’t feel irritated now; I did.”
“The question was very black-and-white, but yes, I was irritated.”
He opened the floodgates with, “Please, explain.”
“Well, I think because it was St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago, it was my sister’s birthday party, I was told this written test would take 2 hours maximum and I had been there for 2 hours already (it ended up being over 4 hours total), and there were 5 Scantron sheets in front of me with 1,000 empty bubbles to fill. But on a scale of 0 to irritated, I was only about a 2.”
With a stone-faced look and pursed lips, he glanced away from the computer screen and stated, “There were actually 1,129 Scantron bubbles that you filled in… Next question.”
I was now stone-faced myself but began to wonder why the doctor pursued a career involving such blatant honesty when he couldn’t take it himself. I had just insulted his test. Well, he probably did not come up with it, but it had been something he had based years of post-graduate education around, and I was insulting it. I mean, SHIT, I get irritated when my shoe comes untied more than once per day.
His next question, “Have you ever done anything illegal?”
I came off a bit too solemnly with, “Yes… I actually did this morning.”
He perked up in his chair ready for the juice. He wanted to burn me. He was out to get me. He wanted to make sure I never got to be a CPD. “Examples,” he said a little too emphatically.
“I crossed the street before I got the ‘Walk’ signal, and honestly, I probably speed everyday to work, if there’s not too much traffic.”
“Is there anything else that you wanted to tell me?” As if I was holding back a murder or drug trafficking scheme that I committed last weekend.
The entire meeting made me feel like I was abnormal and needed help. Like each of my responses had some childhood trauma somewhere hidden within. Like I should personally schedule time with this office outside of any reason why I was there in the first place. I have always been indifferent towards psychologists, due to lack of interaction with them. However, this experience has left a bad impression on me. Not to berate the career completely, but I feel their jobs are justified only by making you feel like you are abnormal and need to return. It reminds me of a chiropractor or reflexologist – you’re always the worst case they’ve ever seen and they are surprised you made it this far. Maybe I should’ve told him that… maybe it would’ve gotten me just one smile.