Sarcastic Complaints

Did I really think that nothing could ever be as bad as four hours in a classroom, learning about the rules and laws of driving? Those six days never seemed like they would end, and when they finally did, all I felt like was that I had wasted twenty-four hours of my life, learning things I already knew. But what else can I do, I thought to myself. There is no way I'm waiting until I'm eighteen to get my licence.

Oh, silly Jeni. There are things much worse than wasting time in a classroom, and they come in the form of in-cars.

For those who have no idea what these are, they're just when a driving instructor comes to pick you up at your home, and you drive around with them in the car for two hours. Seems harmless, yes? Wrong. I am a mostly anti-social person who will not really speak unless spoken to, and even then I need some prodding. Yes, I realize that this is not good, my parents have told me, but in all honesty, where else have I learned it from rather than them? They're almost worse than I am, so I want to hear nothing else.

Anyway, she came and picked me up, and I got yelled at as soon as I sat down, because I "approached the car from the wrong direction." ... I'm sorry that my house is on the right side of the car, ma'am, but excuse me, I'll make sure to come at you from the woods next time. Of course, I didn't say this, I just apologized and started to adjust things. Then she asked to see my temps, and I got the card and the paper out. When I handed her the paper, she held it for a second, looking at me, and I her. That went on for about thirty seconds before I said, "Um..." And she rolled her eyes and turned to the paper, leaving me there bewildered. Um, thanks?

Then she proceeded to walk me through starting the car like I was five. Thank, lady, but I've driven before, and I don't need you to walk me through it step by step... Yes, I do know how to put the keys in, thanks for asking. No, really? I have to adjust the mirror so I can see out of it? Huh. I have to scoot the seat up so I can reach the pedals, who would have 'thunk? Sarcasm aside, I knew all this, and she told me as I was trying to do it. The car is unfamiliar, I'm used to driving a big jeep or van, so bare with me as I downscale.

Maneuverability.... oh, god, it will be the death of me. Guess how many cones I knocked down? Just guess .

That's right-two, knocked them down and dragged them. Guess how many I hit? Two. Lucky numbed, eh? Two hours in the car, two cones knocked down, two cones hit!

In all fairness, it was my first time ever, but did she have to be so rude about it? "*sigh* No, Jeni, the other way!" "STOP!" "Stop the car. Turn it off. Now get out and set the cones up again, and don't you dare knock them over again." "Are you aggravated? Yes? Well, you shouldn't get that way."

*fume*

Maybe not so bad sounding, but you know what? It all has to do with the voice they use while they say it, and I thought I was going to leap across the seat and stangle her.

When it was finally over, I had to go pick up another kid who's about my age. No big deal, right? Maybe not for those of you who enjoy meeting new people, those who love introductions. She made us stand outside of the effing car, shake hands, and introduce ourselves. Guess who wanted to go lay down in front of the next passing car by this time?

Now I'm home, finally, but I don't get to chill out. No, instead I have to go work for six hours, and do it all over again tomorrow. Whoever comes today at work had best be nice, because I'm already livid enough that I could hit something....

Until next time,
Jeni