RID test results

My husband didn't notice the gasp that escaped me as he continued his conversation. I was trying to listen - I really was! But, as I spotted the envelope with the blue circular emblem on the coffee table, I knew nothing else. It was just me and the envelope, the envelope that held my destiny.

I'm a sign language interpreter that has entered through the 'back door', so to speak. I didn't attend an interpreter training program. I just learned through a few classes and some deaf friends. And here I am - interpreting for a living!

It's been a struggle because I don't have the paper stating my worthiness. You see, if you don't have a degree in interpreting, you're not a CODA (child of a deaf adult) and you're not certified, well then. . . you're not worthy!

So, it has been my endeavor to become nationally certified. I took the test last May and have been trying to forget it ever since. It's an extremely difficult test, but I thought I tried my best and was happy with that. And now it seems as though this simple piece of paper has been carelessly tossed onto the coffee table, my husband unaware of it's importance.

He continued to talk and I waited patiently.
"My sister. . new car. . .Thursday. . . Yankees. . .Manhattan. . . want to go?"

"Sure, yeah. Sounds great." I pick up the envelope and finger the edges deciding I will open it upstairs where he can't witness my pain, but before I know it I'm tearing into it. I read quickly but intently, scanning for the main point of the letter. Did I pass?

"We deeply appreciate your patience. . ." (doesn't sound good so far) ". . . rated by an approved team of trained raters. . .Your videotape was DEEMED NOT TO MEET THE ESTABLISHED COMPETENCY LEVEL NECESSARY TO AWARD CERTIFICATION." (caps added by me) They might as well have written, "You are not worthy to exist on this planet, but thank you for coming."

Gasp. Sound of heart wrenching and stomach digesting itself.

Okay, I shouldn't be too shocked at this point. Afterall, I didn't think I was ready to take the test yet. Then, I continue to read . . .

Ratings are on scales of Low, Moderate and High.
My ratings were as follows in all eight categories: LOW

I don't know what to do with myself so I put down the letter and go clean the kitchen. Okay, rethink, Sam. What are you going to do with your life? Go back to school? Change careers? Steal someone else's baby and be a stay at home mom? Hmmmm. . .

I check my e-mail and end up contacting all my interpreting buddies for advice. Everything seems to echo LOW. My battery icon pops up LOW battery. My wireless icon reads signal strength LOW. I decide to go to bed to sleep my misery away.

The next morning, I'm still alive and it wasn't all a dream. I wipe the sleepy crust from my eyes and mope through the house in my hangover of self pity. I decide something has to be done to pamper myself, forget my woes. But, what to do? My usual self soothing strategies include cutting my hair, getting a tattoo, eating chocolate or shopping. (Of course, chocolate is a given!)

Since my hair is already too short and my husband would kill me if I got another tattoo, I decide to go shopping! And there's no place I'd rather be on a rainy day than Barnes and Noble. Before I head out the door, I unwrap a piece of dove dark chocolate and pop it in my mouth. The wrapper reads, "Test your own limits and keep going." Hmph.

I enter the beautiful utopia of books and magazines, coffee churning in a far corner. I'm in heaven! I love this place. It's the most self soothing place I could be.

I locate the travel section and am delighted to find The Little Black Book of New York. Oh my gosh! It's got all the information you need to get around in NY, including nine fold out maps! I pick it up and while I'm reading Where to Shop in Midtown, I hear, "I GAVE YOU A TWENTY AND TWO DIMES!!!!!!! I DID!!!! I SWEAR ON MY CHILDREN'S LIVES!!!! (Sob, gasp) PLEASE! I CAN'T TAKE THIS!!!!! IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!" (sob)

I peak behind a row of books and feel guilty for staring, but how could you not? I hear the cashier say, "Mam, I'm calling the manager. Just calm down."

"NO, I WON'T CALM DOWN!!!! YOU KNOW THAT I GAVE YOU A TWENTY!!!" Sobs woman in mental distress. I consider that maybe she has Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, she's menopausal or perhaps she has postpartum depression.

A young Asian man walks by me. "Cry baby." He sniffs.
"Don't say that!" I protest, but not loud enough. Although, I have never had a complete mental break down in public, I sympathize slightly with her because I've felt that crazy before. I just didn't vent it to a room full of snobby book worms.

I decide to take my merchandise to the back of the store and peruse the calendar section and various books I don't intend to buy - just in case she has a gun. If she did, I have no doubt she would have used it. So, I hide.

Amongst all the chaos, I realize that maybe my life isn't so bad. So what! I failed a test! I can always take it again. I'm just glad I have my mental faculties in place, and I'm not experiencing a meltdown in front of judgmental strangers.

I continue from there to the mall where I buy the quintessential black dress and some socks from the gap. Ahhhhh. . . feeling better already. Yes, life is not that bad.