I'm not actually a robot. I'm just wicked smawt.

I'm a little disappointed I didn't have a chance to talk about my orientation process before leaving the company. It was actually alot of fun. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was a little unhappy about having to share my hotel room with another hopeful future employee, but that turned out to be unfounded. He was still awake when I arrived at nearly midnight on Friday. Despite class starting at 7am the following morning, I purposely left home as late as possible in order to spend as little time as I could at the hotel that first night. Besides, I was insanely excited and nervous about my first day of orientation and wouldn't have managed more than an hour or two of sleep anyway. I just can't calm down enough to sleep the night before important events. This is especially true the night before job interviews, exams, and my first day of work/school. I was relieved that he was still awake when I arrived, because I didn't want to try to navigate the room in the dark or sit/lay there all night wide awake and waiting for the time to catch the shuttle to orientation. My roommate turned out to be a very quiet, polite, foreign man. His English was excellent, but we didn't talk very much. We both sat on our respective twin-sized beds and worked silently on our laptops all night. This was our routine for the entire week we were together. My only complaint is that he took nearly an hour in the bathroom every morning. After the first morning, I knew to take my showers at night. It was a simple matter of scheduling. Easy fix. There were no other problems. We were perfectly compatible.

The classroom time was mildly interesting. My favorite moment was when the classroom instructor actually used "mathematical anomaly" naturally and correctly in a sentence. I maintained a 100% average until the final exam when I actually made a mistake. I had prepared myself for this possability in advance and was able to accept it with minimal obsessing. Someone had a theory about my flawless success on the exams up until that point and even regarding my slight falter on the final.

"You have a photographic memory, don't you?"

I denied this, which only served to increase the intensity of his belief and awe.

"I knew it. There was a typo in the book, right? That's why you missed the question. It was worded differently or there was a mistake in the learning material. I get it. You're like a computer. Garbage in, garbage out. That's bullshit, man. You shouldn't be penalized for that. That's amazing. I wish I was like that. Do you remember every single thing? Right, nevermind. Froget I asked that. Of course not. You must have a way to only retain important information and purge all irrelevant data. Can you rewrite over data or is it copy protected forever?"

"I don't know what to say. I'm not a robot and I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

He knowingly winked and dropped the conversation, but I caught him on quite a few occasions staring at me in wonder and confusion after that. This guy was the only other person - except for me and my roommate - who wasn't from the Boston (Baw-stin) area. It was incredibly difficult to keep myself from mimicing that accent and bringing it back home with me, especially with them all calling me "wicked smawt" after the first few days of classroom time. It was just as difficult not adopting my roommate's accent. The fact that he didn't talk very much - way more than me, but still hardly ever - helped dramatically. I still caught myself a number of times matching his pronounciation and sentence structure. This tended to happen nearly ten times as much when conversing with the Boston boys. I was convinced I would never pronounce another r in my life by the end of orientation. Neva eva again. Luckily, that's not the case.

At any rate, the classroom was fairly standard and boring. I absorbed a great deal of useful information, however. There is simply no comparing this training program with the one I endured with the previous company. I'm not even inclined to refer to that experience as involving any actual training. It was just long and horrible. This was short and pleasant. They also provided us with the latest edition of the American road atlas and proper work boots which are both slip and oil resistant. Score.

The actual driving part of the orientation process was much more interesting, by far. My road instructor resembled actor Dean Winters (of Rescue Me fame and most recently known for his portrayal of Mayhem for the Allstate advertising campaign) in physical appearance, voice, and mannerisms. It was beyond awesome. I felt bad for my roommate when he was paired with the ball-busting asshole everyone hated/feared. Then I decided it was better him than me. He could fake a language barrier or something - which he later confessed to doing a number of times. I was very glad to have Mayhem. My first encounter with him was a little awkward, however. Actually, it was beyond awkard.

We had actually met the day before and reviewed mutual expectations for the driving evaluation process. This was the first time we were actually going to do anything involving moving a truck. I was a little nervous, but before I could even turn the key he said he needed a moment to address a personal matter. I replied that I was in no hurry and it was perfectly fine.

"It's unfortunate, but it just has to be done. Should only take a moment."

From his tone, I almost expected the phone call he was making to end with the conclusion of his current relationship. As innappropriate as that might have been, it would have probably been less awkward than what actually happened.

"Hello. I need to schedule an appointment for a feline euthanasia."

This, of course, made it incredibly difficult for me to maintain my composure. I bit my tongue and remained stoic. Unfortunately, poor cell phone reception made this increasingly problematic.

"I need to schedule a feline euthanasia! Euthanasia! No, I'm not calling about the youth of Asia. Why would anyone call an animal shelter to talk about that? That's ridiculous. Euthanasia for my cat, that's what I'm calling about. Right. I need my cat put to sleep. Ok, transfer me. Yes, I'll hold."

I progressed to biting my lip by this point.

"This is horrible. It's like a really bad fucking improv skit. I can't believe this. Fucking bitch. I don't know how else to say it. How else can I say that? Un-fucking-believable. I'm sorry about this. I meant to do this earlier, but I had to deal with work related things during lunch. I just really need to get this sorted out and taken care of."

I shrugged. I didn't want to chance trying to say something and end up laughing hysterically. I knew it would be impossible to stop myself once I started. I tried to smile and managed a smirk. It was better than laughing, I suppose. It was exactly like a bad fucking improv skit, but it was hilarious. It was fantastically hilarious and horrible.

"Yes, I'm trying to schedule an appointment for my cat. It's her time to leave the planet."

He sighed and explained his problem to the second person.

"She hasn't used the litter box in a week. It's not a sanitary issue, either. I keep it cleaned out. It's been empty for a week and she still hasn't had a bowel movement. She is visibly bloated. I know she has to shit, but she can't. I don't know what else I can do for her. It's just her time and I'm fine with that. Well, I'm not fine with it, but... It's her time to leave the planet. I'd like this to happen as soon as possible. I don't like seeing her like this. Right. Uh, I don't know. I hadn't thought that far into it. I guess I can take the body with me and bury it somewhere. No, that's not necessary. Do you do that? Animal cremation? Oh, well then. Why bring it up? No, I'll take the body with me. Do you have a box or do I need to bring my own? I think I have a shoe box that would work."

I didn't laugh once. I'm proud of my obvious self-control in that situation. I honestly didn't think I could keep it together through that entire phone call or even after. It was a perfect tension release. It was impossible to take anything too seriously after that.