Do you see the tears running down her face? Do you recognise the look of utter hopelessness, grief, despair? Head in hand, other hand lying useless on her lap?

This is what I looked like not an hour ago, although instead of an antique desk and a letter informing me of my lover’s demise on some foreign shore, I was seated on my bed, with my laptop in front of me, trying to make sense of an assessment test that was part of my application for a position as a content writer.

I cannot begin to describe the feeling of absolute deflatedness (if this was never a word, it is now) I felt after pressing the ‘submit’ button. What did I just go through? What the fuck was I supposed to do? Even with the instructions given in clear English, I was at a total bloody loss.

I am not upset about having to do what seems like an IQ test to get a job as a writer. If companies want only geniuses writing for them, so be it. Is it the norm? I don’t know; I haven’t been doing this long enough.

What does bother me is how stupid I feel. I have no chance in hell of passing this. I can have the most glorious portfolio, but whether or not I continue to the next stage hinges solely on this assessment.

And I blew it. I simply couldn’t figure out what I had to do with the dice, houses, circles, crosses, and percentages while a little circle ticked off 60 seconds.

When I was younger, I would much rather feel fat (I am Gen X: we were either fat or thin) than stupid. Now that I am older and my waistline does her own thing, there is no ‘rather’. I have been actively part of the workforce for 30 years. I have had many different jobs. And I have never felt as dumb as I do right now.

In my defence, I have never had to do an assessment like this before. (Those quick IQ tests online don’t count; according to some of them, I am a girl wonder…)

I feel slightly better now that I’ve had a cup of tea and have vented a bit. Yet, the question remains: why did I get so upset in the first place? I know my worth. I am not stupid. I am brave for changing direction at my age. I am emotionally intelligent. I have 50 years’ worth of life experience. So, I will not pass this test, but I have passed thousands of others. And will do so again in future. I must not let one dumb morning define where I am headed.

One half of my brain thinks: just let it go FFS (my mantra). The other half is thinking: perhaps you should have had a piece of CBD chocolate before the test; you would have been flying through it!

It is what it is. I am who I am. And so are you.

I am off to have a piece of chocolate. What are you going to do?

intrepidly,

Anni