can you believe this crap?! from the papers of diana freeburg

worlds most fascinating college graduate

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Dear Diary,
I am just a basket of nerves these few few weeks before graduation. Deciding how to organize the rest of my life is stressing me out. Next Friday I am flying to San Francisco for this "assessment" to see if I have the skills necessary to do this job that I have already applied for and done a phone interview for. They want a writing sample, which I'm not too worried about, and they want me to take some sort of customer service test, and I'm not too worried about that. What I am worried about is the fact that one of the things they are assessing me on is my typing skills. I have been taking those tests online where you copy a blurb as fast as you can about zebras or typewriters, The Wizard of Oz, or whatever their random paragraph is about. Then they tell you how many words per minute you can do and with what percent accuracy. I am only at about 40 or 50 wpm but with really bad accuracy. I doubt I will have to write the latin name for zebra at this job but we will see. I would have a conniption if spent 250 bucks of my mom's money to fly down to SF, only to fail a typing test and not get this job. And if I do get this job, it means I would have gotten the first real job I applied for- which causes me some concern. I expressed this sentiment to my advisor yesterday and he reminded me of a quote by Groucho Marx, "I wouldn't join any club that would have me as a member." I think that sometimes other people have to remind you that you are not a total idiot.
In other news, I just finished my last college golf tournament. It was totally sad. I was mostly sad that if I ever want to play golf again, I am going to have to pay real American dollars for it. The whole ending of my golf career was rather anti-climatic. There I was, on the last hole at Aspen Lakes in Sisters, Oregon. My coach and one teammate were there watching my glorious approach shots, a chip, and two tidy putts, to end with a respectable bogey. And it was done. All I have left of my career is my embroidered golf bag and two fairway woods that I'm hoping my coach will forget that I borrowed. He has like a whole room full of golf clubs, like he will miss a couple woods. Especially after all I have given to the golf team. I hear that the athletic department is giving out paperweights to all of the graduating seniors that didn't play all four years. At least I'll have that to hold on to. Or to hold onto my paper.
Love,
Diana