So, I went for the testing for my job interview with the Toronto Police on Monday. Originally, if I passed all the tests, I was supposed to be taken into an interview right then & there, but the woman that does the interviews was in a meeting… so I have to go back again next week for the interview portion. Yippee. The testing in itself was pretty damned nerve-wracking, to say the least – and you wouldn’t really think it would be, considering it’s not like it was a drug test, or a lie-detector. Hmm.
So, let’s go through the wonderful day of testing. I’m convinced that it wasn’t just the Toronto Police Service testing me, the Powers That Be were out in full force, as well (bastards!). My day started by waking up at 6am, after a refreshing hour and a half of sleep. Ooh, that’s preparation for you. Ugh. A shower helped to perk me up, until I looked out the window and saw that we’d had about 4-6” of snow overnight. Excellent. Turned on the morning shows, they all listed every single highway as moving slowly, due to all the accidents caused by the snow.
Okay, now correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re living in CANADA, right? It DOES, occasionally, get COLD and SNOW here. You’d THINK that after living in the snow for so long, people would LEARN HOW TO DRIVE IN IT! But no, they insist on going 120 km/h down an unplowed, unsalted highway, that’s likely got a layer of ice under the snow. Christ. Anyway, the roads were shit. So shit, in fact, that it took me an hour to get from Newmarket to Hwy 7 (if you’re not from here, that should have been less than a half hour – probably closer to 20 minutes). I honestly think I did about 15km/h. It was slow enough that the speedometer didn’t move… I could have crawled on my belly, using only my TONGUE faster. Jesus. H. CHRIST.
I ended up at the nearest subway station at about 9:45am. My appointment was for 10:00am. I left my house at 7:20am. The whole drive SHOULD have taken about an hour, at the outside. CAN YOU F-ING BELIEVE THAT?! (deep calming breath). It took nearly another 10 minutes to find an f-ing parking space, which was on the other side of the f-ing CITY from the bloody subway station. As I was running the length of the parking lot to the station (no joke, it’s about 2/3 of a kilometer. It damn near KILLED me), I called the Police, and after many wrong connections, FINALLY got someone in employment to talk to. I told her my name, and that I had an appointment, but that I’d had trouble with the unexpected traffic & was on my way. Oh, the professionalism of arriving LATE to a job interview! Grr.
Since I didn’t want to waste time at the ticket booth at the subway station (people always take forever there), I went to the little token machine, threw in $2.75 (holy f*ck! When did it get that expensive to “ride the rocket”?!), got my token, and went through one of the open gates. I went to give the token person my token, but the thing was blocked by a Mom & her kid, talking to the token taker. So, I got on the subway for free. 
I’m a criminal. I’m oddly proud of that.
Either way, I rode the subway, impatiently. Got off at my stop, ran up the escalators, across the street and into TPS Headquarters (also saw the hottest man on Earth coming out of the building as I was going in, but I guess that’s not the point. Shame.). I went up to the Employment Office, where I saw three charlies, sitting on a bench in the hallway. These guys had “wanna-be cop” written all over them. All dressed in their Sunday best, shoes polished, hair gelled to within an inch of its life, all holding the same folder on their laps and whispering excitedly to each other. They sounded kind of like excited 7-year-old girls, but were so busy trying to keep looking serious at the same time, I had a really hard time not laughing in their faces. I passed the charlies and went into the office, announced myself to a rather rude man in a uniform, and was told to wait on a bench in the hallway with the charlies. As men have a habit of sitting with their legs as far apart as possible, I chose to sit on a bench where I might have half a snowball’s chance in hell of actually fitting.
Eventually, I was taken into a testing chamber. There, the test administrator – a very nice & actually quite cute guy named Paul (no wedding ring… wink, wink) sat me down in front of a computer, and closed the door. Right away, I turned into my father. The jokes just came, of their own volition! I couldn’t stop! I started making jokes about how it was like the Doctor’s office, and whatnot… Thank the Gods that Paul actually laughed. He started taking me through the rules for the first test, which were also on a sheet he’d handed me to read. The poor guy must have to do this 80 times a day, because his voice took on that speech quality, you know? He started to sound like a robot… and the jokes came again. Christ, I wish I could quell that instinct.
First came the typing test. I needed at least 40 wpm, and he was quite clear in telling me that any mistakes would be subtracted from the final score of wpm, so be vigilant. Okay, I can do that. THEN I saw the bit that said there needed to be TWO spaces after every period. Honestly, I don’t think I know ONE person who still does that. Okay, maybe my Mom. But come ON, anyone that’s been on the internet for more than five minutes knows that no one does the two-space thing anymore – that was for typing on a typewriter. Urg. THAT was a hard rule for me to remember during the test. Anyway… I did my damndest, but it was more difficult and nerve-wracking than I thought it would be! They threw in words that I don’t think I’ve ever been required to type before! Christ. Anyway, I finished, and opened the door, as I’d been instructed, and Paul was there in a minute to assess my skills. I did 57wpm – which was with some points deducted for a few mistakes. Yay, me! Passed that one.
Test number two was the “filing test” – I needed 70% to pass. Again, Paul handed me the rule sheet, and went through the rules verbally, as if by rote. And again, the horrible jokes came out. Ugh. I had 15 minutes to finish 20 multiple choice questions, regarding spelling, grammar and alpha-numeric filing. I finished in about 3 minutes, and got something like 98%. Oh ya baby, if there’s one thing I know, it’s spelling & grammar. Score, ME!
The third test was the Word test – the one I was most worried about. But, I only needed 50% to pass, so I wasn’t THAT worried. As I feared, it was a ‘long way around’ kind of test, meaning they would ask me to do something (ie. change the page margins), but NOT use any of the toolbar buttons on the top, so I had to do it all the long way. Thank the Gods that there were only three questions I had NO idea about. But get this – only 50% to pass, right? Think that’s easy? It was easier. Every question, I had THREE chances to get it right! If I messed up, it would tell me & then I could go back and do it another way! Ya, I got 97% on that one.
Anyway, when I was done all the tests and all, Paul was telling me (as I was putting on my coat) that I should be really proud, I’d done really well, and all that jazz. He walked me to the door, shook my hand twice, and told me someone would be in touch with me about an interview. He was really nice. And cute. And not married. Did I mention that stuff already? Hmm.
After the tests, I called Mom, I called Dad, hell, I called anyone I knew. I went and got a coffee (hadn’t had one yet. I KNOW! HOW did I sit through testing, even make jokes, completely decaffeinated?! It’s a mystery to me, too) and about an hour and a half later, I went for lunch and a drink with with a friend that I worked with a LONG time ago, as well as Janine. We had Guiness and fish n’chips… and talked & talked & talked… it was SO much fun! I haven’t laughed that hard in such a long time! We actually sat there for something like 3.5 hours, just shooting the shit. It was awesome – reminded me of why I want to move back to TO. Anyway, eventually, it was time for me to get moving, so we all said goodbye and went our separate ways.
When I got to the parking lot where I’d beached my car that morning, I started the trek back to the end of the frickin’ WORLD, where I thought my car was parked. As I walked and walked though, I wasn’t seeing my little red Demon Buggy, and I grew increasingly anxious (you know, that horrible, “where did I park my f-ing CAR?” feeling, followed closely by the “oh my Gods, did someone STEAL my piece of shit car?!” and then, the instant guilt at calling your car a POS. Ah, the many shades of car ownership). Eventually though, I saw the little red caboose sticking out and was so happy, I almost drifted to my car. Then, I noticed the tail light.
Now, I was walking toward my car, with the sun at my back, so it could have been the sun reflecting in my tail light, making it look lit. At least, that’s what I told myself, as I began sprinting toward my car. When I got to the car, I tried REALLY hard NOT to look too hard at the tail light – if I didn’t SEE it on, then maybe it wouldn’t turn out to actually BE on. I know, desperate reasoning; but desperate times and all… I unlocked my door, put the key in the ignition, and just as I was about to turn it, I noticed that the little button for my lights was in the ON position. FFFFUUUUUUUCCCKKK!
DO NOT tell me that I’ve left my lights on ALL MOTHER FUCKING DAY!! I started making frantic deals with various deities, in hopes that my battery hadn’t died. THEN, I remembered the one God I had in my pocket, and all my worries vanished: CAA. Gods bless the CAA. As it turns out (as it always does in these situations), because I have CAA, the car started and I didn’t need to call them. Of course, if I HADN’T had CAA, I’d have been fucked.
So, there you go. My whole day in a coconut (too long to have been a nutshell). Oh, and I go for the proper interview on Jan. 30th. I think this time, I’ll just leave at 7:00am, to be on the safe side. 
