I am officially an underachiever. W00t!

I let myself get talked into taking the Mensa Admissions Test by one of the guys at work.  No, it doesn't test for gullibility.  Anyways, it's always been one of those "I wonder" things - could I really qualify?  Other than the accompanying social awkwardness, and the ability to run categories on "Jeopardy" (at least watching on TV), would I actually test well enough to get in?  I had to admit, the ego boost would be pretty nice.

 

Besides, there was a challenge on the table.  The gauntlet had been thrown down.  Game on!

 

So, there I went, shlepping myself down to CalTech, killing a Saturday morning in the process, to have my brain tossed about like a ship on the ocean.  Of course, my buddy doesn't show up.  Slacker!  I end up in a classroom with the proctor and six college-age kids, all bright eyed and bushy tailed.  I've never looked like these kids, not even 20-25 years ago when I was their age, nor went to the schools they were at - the aformentioned CalTech, USC, UCLA.

 

The proctor tells us that, on average, half of those that go so far as to take the test do not pass.  What the hell am I doing here?

 

We start off with the 50-question Wonderlic test - the same one the NFL gives to all the college players before the draft.  12 minutes.  Nobody ever finishes.  I get 45 answers written down that I feel pretty confident about.  So far, so good, but I'm still inwardly pissed that I didn't complete the whole thing.

 

Next comes the actual admissions test, 7 sections, 4-6 minutes per section.  When I finally leave, an hour and a half after starting, I feel as if I've been folded, spindled, and mutilated.

 

The test sheets get mailed back east.  We'll get something in the mail saying if we passed, with an invitation to join.  We can leave our email address if we want to find out sooner.

 

Well, it's ten days later and I got the email back.  Although I'll have to wait for the snail mail to deliver the actual results, the bottom line is that I'm in.  Hooray for me.  Does this mean I have to wear a pocket protector now?

 

Upon further investigation, I could have obtained my SAT scores from high school and saved myself the trouble.  C'est la vie.  Time will tell if they (or I) will regret this later.  I'm still somewhat embarassed by the whole thing.

 

Sure I am.  That's why I'm blogging about it.  Right.

 

Well, what the hell else do I have to talk about?