Ode to Doom

Alright, so I have been meaning to write this for a while. It's my therapy. On October 12th, 2007, I wrote a little blog about the Testing Center of BYU-Idaho. It was aptly named The Testing Center...of Doom. That was in my young an impressionable days, when I only tested there. Now, the tides of fate have changed, and I find myself working there. What has become of the world? Oh, yeah, it's controlled by money. How foolish of me to forget. I would now like to expand upon that little thought... the doom one that is, and how the Testing Center is full of it.

So I was poor, and when that happens, people do desperate things. I applied at the Testing Center. It was terrifying. I seriously thought that the lady interviewing me was going to kill me. She told me how rough this job was. I figured that lots of other people work there, so I could do it to. No big deal. Then she pointed out how immodest I was in my modest clothing. She told me how tight my loose-fitting shirt was, and that my back fat poked out. Thank you, oh so much for that one. Way to welcome your new employees. Then I took a filing test, you know to see if I could work under pressure. Nothing like filing to cause stress and anxiety... Anyways I passed, and was offered an invitation to train. Not work mind you, train. After a week and a half of intense training, coupled with many emotional break-downs, I got the job.

I began to notice that my managers really were Nazis. And it frightened me. For Halloween this year all of the employees wanted to wear swastikas. And some did. They did the strangest things, and were way hard core about everything. One of the most frustrating things was their views on modesty. Now, for those of you who know me, and pretty much anyone who doesn't, you can tell that I am a modest dressing person. I don't even own immodest clothing. I am pretty good about not looking like a skank, thank you very much. However, without fail, once a week I would get busted for being immodest. That was great. The best one was when they told me I was immodest after just coming from the temple. That was a fun day. But yes, every week there was some reason that I would get in trouble. It started to become the joke among all of my fellow employees. I would wear a jacket, because guess what, it is freakin' cold in there, and Dallin would like to point out that, "Oh, guys, watch it, Emmilie had to cover up again. Pray for her." I was cold!!!!!! That was fun. Also fun was the day that they told me my floor length skirt was too immodest. That was great. Oh, and the day that they said that my black camisole was showing under my white shirt, and was therefore immodest. A lot of times I would get in trouble, and would not be able to see why. Those were days of pure awesomeness.

Luckily, I got to work with some cool peeps. Eric was my favorite to work with, because we would pretty much joke around the whole time. We even had a secret handshake. That was the coolest. Ever. Word. Proctoring was death, and it was always dangerous because I almost fell on someone every time! It was a big problem. It was so bloody boring, one is almost certain to die of boredom. However, I would play games. One of my favorite games was the Attractive Game. I would rate all the guys that came in on a scale of 1 to 10 based on how attractive they were. They would get points for their shoes, if I liked their hair, where they bought their clothes, if their clothes actually looked good, if they smelled good, what kind of test they were taking, and if they looked like they had a good sense of humor. You were disqualified if you had a wedding ring on. Those men are no use to me. And let me tell you, there were some real winners...holy crap. Amen. So pretty much what I am saying is that the Testing Center makes you resort to practically staking people. Oh the joys.

So now that I work there, I get to see the doom from the flip side. Oh, and I get to be a source of doom for people. Great, that was exactly what I was hoping to do. I just try to be really nice when I am handing people their fate in test form. But you better watch it... my managers have started this new thing called, "Let's Bust People For Being Too Happy." For real. And considering my modesty track record, I don't think I can afford to get busted for happiness. Thank you, and goodnight.