Marika Malaea

faithful marauder + fake royal

The Mensa Challenge

with 8 comments

Steve Martin was a member.

Steve Martin was a member.

To add insult to my injury, I watched the Esq take a Mensa test last night. If no one’s ever mentioned the word ‘Mensa’ to you before, you were probably a paste-eating bed-wetter like me. People used these words to describe me throughout my education: bright, creative, funny, social — and that kiss of death that’s impossible to shake — “a girl with tons of potential.”

See also: unfocused, challenged, disruptive, and lazy — with the occasional “a negative influence on her peers.” Basically the stuff Ivy League dreams are made of.

The Esq, on the other hand, took Calculus and Japanese at the high school when he was 12 — like, twelve years on this planet — which I find completely obscene. While he was finding an answer to Regiomontanus’ angle maximization problem, I was graduating from high school with a diploma built on lies. The Esq says his reports were as follows:

Writing: exceeds grade level.

Reading: exceeds grade level.

Math: exceeds WELL beyond grade level.

Teamwork: Adequate.

If he’d been forced into Physical Education in high school, his report may have looked a bit different — but he basically got out of it due to his excessively-rigorous academic schedule. Instead, he took fencing through Running Start, like Don fucking Juan. Me? I played sports, belonged to a bunch of clubs, sang in multiple choirs, and sucked face with my boyfriend. My academic career, however, could be summed up in one word: Nope. Like, ‘NOPE — don’t think I’ll do my homework today.’ Or, ‘NOPE — don’t think I’ll go to class today.’ And ‘NOPE — won’t sleep with you for a better math grade.” You know, the usual teenage stuff that everyone goes through.

Point being: opposites attract. That was made perfectly clear last night when I watched the Esq — a couple of beers in, even — answering these Mensa problems with very little effort. There he was, doing complicated math problem #7 in his head — no pencil, no paper, no crystal meth — while I was stuck on problem #1, hoping I hadn’t suddenly gone retarded. I watched him closely, thinking, ‘Why isn’t he sweating or sobbing, like me? What the fuck is wrong with him?’ Turns out Mensa candidates don’t sweat or sob, they just take standardized tests like goddamn fucking robots and look at you with prodigious pity. Or love, or whatever.

Because I’m no Mensa match, I don’t understand a lot of the questions. Here’s an example:

If two typists can type two pages in two minutes, how many typists will it take to type 18 pages in six minutes?

Justin’s answer: If two typists can type two pages in two minutes, one typist can type one page in two minutes. If it takes each typist two minutes a page, and there are only six minutes, you need 18 pages which is 3 pages per minute. So a person can type 1/2 of a page per minute — meaning in six minutes, one person can only type three pages. Since you need 18 pages, you need six people. So the answer is six people.

No, I’m not stupid — I’m challenged in the way of numbers. I think it holds true that I’m still bright, creative, funny and social; ‘math whiz’ just didn’t make it on the list. I could’ve figured this problem out in 36 hours or so, but would have gotten stuck on sketching the typists, drawing the pages, and adding a clusterfuck of arrows going this way and that in order to comprehend it. Instead of caring what the answer was, I’d ponder what type of project needed to be done in six minutes, and why they would hire so many people to complete it. Then I would come up with sob stories for the typists themselves, because that’s really no way to eek out a living, working six minutes at a time with a bunch of other bitches.

I hate story problems.

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Written by sn0tteh

July 12, 2009 at 12:29 AM

Posted in Uncategorized

8 Responses

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  1. I cheated on the one IQ test I’ve taken. I’d found these Mensa flashcards at work and studied like three of the cards while I was stuck behind the registers, bored out of my skull. LO and BEHOLD! Those very same questions were on the internet IQ test I took. I felt smart.

    Carrie

    July 12, 2009 at 9:00 PM

  2. 23 out of 30. Utter Tripe. Is this really how women keep themselves entertained when they can’t make babies anymore?

    theperverse

    July 12, 2009 at 11:10 PM

  3. I took this test with pathetic results yesterday. I tried it again to day after a coffee and Vicodin cocktail with much improvement! Try this performance enhancing technique the next time you have something to prove….it also works for a Jeopardy, Bejeweled and Word Challenge.

    HolleeAnn

    July 13, 2009 at 7:31 AM

  4. @Carrie NICE. I appreciate the ‘I cheated but don’t really give a damn’ side of you.

    sn0tteh

    July 13, 2009 at 8:38 AM

  5. @Mark Thrust I guess so – is that your excuse for taking it? Because you can’t have babies?

    sn0tteh

    July 13, 2009 at 8:40 AM

  6. @HolleeAnn LOL – it’s the Vicodin cocktail that improves the IQ. It’s been scientifically proven. Unfortunately, all I have is Percocet and Tramadol.

    sn0tteh

    July 13, 2009 at 8:42 AM

  7. Snotteh: Crush the Percocet and Tramadol and sprinkle it over your yogurt..its the Breakfast of Champions…I don’t know if it will improve your IQ, but give it an hour or so and you won’t care..

    cynloy

    July 15, 2009 at 6:24 PM

  8. @cynloy I’m in! Except forget the yogurt.

    sn0tteh

    July 15, 2009 at 10:30 PM


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