I am gifted.

According to the highly regarded, extremely technical test I completed online (in record time, I might add), my intelligence quotient measures 132 points. 132 points! That is 32 points higher than the average adult, and a measly 7 points below Mensa qualification. Not that I would want to become a Mensa, mind you, those who host Friday night social events like “Colloquium” or “Culturequest” are just asking to be mocked, regardless of how intellectually superior they deem themselves to be.

I sit here in my privacy-deprived, barren, windowless jail cell (politically-correct term being ‘office cubicle’) mentally cursing myself for spending the last five years at a job I am 22 points overqualified for. My current duties involve shuffling papers around my desk at random intervals and answering the occasional phone call, while sporting a microphone device reminiscent of a time when straight teeth meant enduring years of unsightly head gear, guaranteed to attract magnets and repel the opposite sex.

The following is the summary that accompanied my test results:

Anyone with a general IQ this high is considered to be gifted. You have the ability to think critically, conceptualize ideas and form your own conclusions. Your ability to think in patterns and produce order out of chaos enables you to see logic in everything. Needless to say you have the brains for all known occupations.

I guess it’s true, I always have had a tendency to think in patterns, especially when I was a child. Many patterns, in fact. Multiple, constant, monotonous, time consuming patterns. However, nowadays I think we call it by its formal name, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

The rest of the analysis, though, is up for debate. I tend to break out in hives when forced to think critically, I have trouble verbalizing ideas let alone conceptualizing them, and every conclusion I come to is based on a process similar to the lifelines offered on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire”.

1) Ask the Audience: The contestant (me) asks the studio audience (co-workers during office meeting) which answer they believe to be correct. Members of the studio audience (co-workers) indicate their preference using an audience response system (raising of hand in agreement). This is a popular lifeline, known for its near-perfect accuracy (depending on which co-workers show up for work that day).

2) Phone-A-Friend: Contestant (me) calls one (or 10) friends. The contestant has thirty seconds (or two hours) to read the four (or fifteen) choices to the friend(s), who must select an answer before the time runs out (the cell battery dies). In the event that a contestant has a disability (OCD and/or trust issues), the contestant will have the option of having the host (another friend) read the question and answer choices to the (first) friend, and obtain an answer from them (thereby ensuring consistency).

3) Fifty-Fifty (50:50): The contestant (me) asks the host to have the computer randomly eliminate two of the incorrect answer choices, leaving the contestant with a choice between the correct answer and one incorrect one.

Since I have trust issues when it comes to technology, I have yet to take advantage of number three.

I also discovered that although I’m not quite up for Top Civil Servant status, I am overqualified to work in Management (a topic I now refrain from mentioning during annual performance reviews). And if I knew what a Stenographer was, I am told I would do a stellar job of…well, whatever it is that job would require me to do.
Now that I have concrete evidence supporting my intellect there’s no telling what I am capable of.

So I guess the next question is…what happens now?

Well, to be honest, I will most likely continue to sit in my privacy-deprived, barren, windowless jail cell, shuffling papers around my desk while sporting this ridiculous hands-free device around my skull. But I will now do so with pride, knowing had I not become infatuated with Javier in Accounting–whose sexy Spanish accent and tight white dress shirts clinging to every muscle on his torso make my days worthwhile–my life would be moving in a completely different direction right now.

Oh, and I will keep taking these tests until I find one that qualifies me for Mensa status. Like I said, I don’t actually want to become one of those social rejects, I just want to know I have the option.