I had an interesting situation the other day. I happened to bump in to my high school counselor. Seems she has given up the righteous path of helping to shape kids' futures by hocking prosthetic shoe inserts out of a 6' x 8' mall kiosk.
We talked up the basic pleasantries, each of us feeding the other what we knew about the current whereabouts of various classmates of mine.
It seems as though an inordinate number of my former friends are in prison.
“I wanted to tell you, Luke. A couple of years ago when the state was investigating me...again...[big sigh. eyes rolling] that I came across some old aptitiude scores, and yours was one of them.”
A bile-infused twinge of pain hit me.
“...and I discovered your aptitude was actually much, much lower than I had originally reported to you. I just thought you ought to know.”
Wow. Years of therapy (and thousands of dollars) fighting the ego eroding guilt of being a perinnual under-achiever that I come to find out I've been an Uber-Achiver...worthy of a whole slew of gold stars and happy faces.
The lesson learned? Even if it's an aptitude test, don't look off of someone else's answer sheet, even if the guy looks like he might be a geek.