When I was a Senior in High School, the Principal called me in to her office to ask why I'd missed repeated deadlines to turn in my applications for colleges. I went to a school for brainiacs, and was above average there--yes, I was a geek among geeks.
The Principal asked me if it were a question of finances. She said that she'd been looking over my grades and standardized test scores, and that she was sure I could get a full scholarship to a good University. I almost asked which schools she had in mind. I would have really liked to go to one of the major state universities where I lived, and if she had held out the possibility of a scholarship there, I might not have held strong to my convictions.
Alas, I told her that I was one of Jehovah's Witnesses, and wouldn't be going to college. She kept trying, telling me to go ahead and apply to three Universities of my choosing, and that I could always turn it down if accepted.
I successfully passed the test that Satan had placed before me.
About a year later I was working for a brother, painting houses. I was making about $10/hr. My aunt told me about a company in the area that made inserts for newspapers and such, that was hiring line workers. They were recognized nationally as one of the best companies to work for, and had positions open in the $12-18/hr range.
Visions of sugar plums danced in my head (though as a JW geek, I would never use such an analogy). This was the dream job for a young college-skippee. I figured it wouldn't be long before I worked my way up to a whopping $15/hr. I probably wouldn't get a job in the higher pay scale because it would would undoubtedly require longer working hours, but $15/hr was in the salary stratosphere as far as I and my young Pioneer friends were concerned.
I wore my best give-a-talk-at-the-assembly suit for the interview.
The gentleman conducting the interview asked me the standard questions--what I thought I had to offer to the company, yaddayaddayadda. Then he asked me what was the proudest accomplishment of my life.
This is what immediately popped into my head: I was about 15 yrs old, and my twin brother and I were horsing around. I pinned him down to the ground and was sitting on top of him. Then I started letting long strings of saliva out of my mouth, sucking them back in just before they touched him. I had been eating hard candy (Jolly Ranchers or something) so my spit was extra viscous. As the strings of spit crept successively closer to my brother's face, he started laughing uncontrollably. The final string of spit that I let out actually went inside his opened mouth. It didn't touch anything, but had he closed his mouth, he would have been forever contaminated with watermelon-flavored cooties. Using my undeveloped skills in The Force, I was able to sense the point where the slobber spear would break under the stress of recapture, and successfully retrieved it.
Obviously I couldn't tell the well-groomed professional on the other side of the desk that the proudest moment in my young life was an otherworldly control over my own spit. Instead, this is what I said:
"When I was baptized as one of Jehovah's Witnesses."
I wish I could now claim that I knew it was all hogwash, that I went to the meetings and listened with a cynical ear, anxious for the time when I could get home and do the things that I really liked. But the sad truth is that I enjoyed the meetings, and looked forward to them. I actually thought that the answer I gave the interviewer would make my God's heart rejoice, and that I was virtually guaranteed a position.
After explaining that the positions they had open were for varying shifts, the interviewer concluded by asking if I had anything to add. I said "I'll need every Tuesday and Thursday evening off, as well as all day Sunday, so I can attend the meetings."
Thinking back on it, I'm surprised I didn't offer the guy a free home bible study.
Obviously I didn't get the job. But fear not, I bore up under Satan's persecution.
Hmmm