Assessment.
I sit here exhausted and pleased, I’m still in training at carnival I almost work there but not quite, I remain in the transition stage. The only defining factor which divides regular people from carnival cruise employees is the unfair, tedious, grueling, mind-contorting training process which lasts 6 weeks. With the first test under my belt this proves that I am not completely and utterly inept when it comes to standardized tests. It does prove however that I can study like mad.
-one week prior-
It’s 7:30 in the morning and already something feels aloof, from the way the mist won’t clear out of this parking lot to how I feel as if my stomach’s in protest. I almost forgot how 7:30 in the am tasted like. Forced resurrectment, that’s how. First person I met was a strapping young lad by the name of Moses. I asked him where we had to meet he said follow me, and so I did. Without any question. I figure, if it worked in the bible why not Carnival.
The classroom training room was inviting, only so in a fashion to prevent one from running at the mention on the word “test” which I would have done if it not for the large woman obstructing my clear path to the door. Hyperventilation was eminent and classmate consoling seemed sub-sufficient to calm me, being out of school for 3 years had taken it’s toll and I was to suffer here 74 and a half miles away from home at the offices of carnival cruise lines ®. I studied all week at starbucks, at home, in the parking lot, at lunch and it all felt futile. Fleeting attempts to memorize line after line of information like some lab animal forced to perform demoralizing feats for food, and by lab animal I mean me and by food I mean a steady income. After this first day I was convinced that I was destined to failure, my face on the wall of “attempted employee of the month” I saw it clear as day I’m fucked with a capital C for Carnival’s bitch.
-week later-
All I have to say about the class is…cakewalk.
-one week prior-
It’s 7:30 in the morning and already something feels aloof, from the way the mist won’t clear out of this parking lot to how I feel as if my stomach’s in protest. I almost forgot how 7:30 in the am tasted like. Forced resurrectment, that’s how. First person I met was a strapping young lad by the name of Moses. I asked him where we had to meet he said follow me, and so I did. Without any question. I figure, if it worked in the bible why not Carnival.
The classroom training room was inviting, only so in a fashion to prevent one from running at the mention on the word “test” which I would have done if it not for the large woman obstructing my clear path to the door. Hyperventilation was eminent and classmate consoling seemed sub-sufficient to calm me, being out of school for 3 years had taken it’s toll and I was to suffer here 74 and a half miles away from home at the offices of carnival cruise lines ®. I studied all week at starbucks, at home, in the parking lot, at lunch and it all felt futile. Fleeting attempts to memorize line after line of information like some lab animal forced to perform demoralizing feats for food, and by lab animal I mean me and by food I mean a steady income. After this first day I was convinced that I was destined to failure, my face on the wall of “attempted employee of the month” I saw it clear as day I’m fucked with a capital C for Carnival’s bitch.
-week later-
All I have to say about the class is…cakewalk.