He skimmed the “Help
Wanted” section in his parents’ newspaper, ready to chuck it in for another day
and head over to the library to use their online job search sites at half-hour
intervals, when this caught his eye:
WANT TO MAKE
SOME EASY CASH?
Yes! his brain answered.
HAVE YOU EVER
DREAMED OF STARRING IN A FILM?
Ummm, sure, why not?
DO YOU HAVE A
VALID DRIVER’S LICENSE?
What?
THEN STOP BY OUR
OFFICE TODAY FOR A CHANCE TO BE IN OUR DMV-APPROVED DEFENSIVE DRIVING COURSES,
AIDING DRIVERS EVERYWHERE TO BE THE BEST – AND SAFEST! – THEY CAN BE!
“Ooh, ‘Defensive
Driving,’” he said to himself as he tore out the page from the paper. “Maybe they use swords.”
LATER THAT MORNING
At the office,
he approached the receptionist at the front desk.
“How can I help
you?”
“Hi, I’m here
about this?” He held out the ad.
She glanced at
it for a second before popping her gum and asking: “You an actor?”
“No-o-o, should
I be?”
“No, we actually
prefer you’re not: it lends to the authenticity of the videos, plus we don’t
have to pay union dues.” She picked up a
clipboard that held a six-inch pile of paper and handed it to him. “Fill all these out please, front and
back. And don’t keep the pen: everyone
else stole the others and it’s my last one.”
“Oh yeah, sure –
thanks!” He took the clipboard to a row
of chairs lined along a wall, where about 10 other people sat also filling out
forms.
Question 1: Have you ever had any traffic
violations?
Uh-oh.
ONE HOUR LATER
With a shaking,
cramped hand, he gave the clipboard and nearly dry pen back to the receptionist;
without looking at it, she sent the clipboard through a pneumatic tube
stationed behind her chair and said to him, “Right, thanks, they’ll call you if
they need you to come in.”
“…Today?”
“Nah; probably
about three weeks.”
“Oh. I thought this was quick cash.”
“Nope: this is
easy cash; nothing legal is quick cash.
And it’s actually a check, and the forms have to be scanned into the
database to make sure you’re not wanted in 20 states for grand theft auto, and
you’ll have to have a drug test if you’re selected, so yeah, about three weeks.”
“Oh. OK.
Bye.”
“Have a nice
day.”
ABOUT THREE WEEKS
LATER
He
entered the office and saw the same receptionist at the front desk.
“How
can I help you?”
“Yeah
hi, I got called to come in for the shoot?”
“The
what?”
“Heh-heh,
sorry, I mean the defensive driving video.
Training film. Thingamabob. You know.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“Oh yeah, they’re
down the hall, third door on the right, I’ll let them know you’re heading on
over.”
“Thank
you much.” Knock it off!
Once he arrived at
the right room, he and three other participants received a brief introduction
by a facilitator before they were taken outside to a parking lot separate from
the main one where they had left their cars.
“Now,
I have to ask,” the facilitator said as they headed towards a car covered in
all sorts of text, “do any of you currently have any tickets or points on your
license?” One of the participants raised
their hand. “Last chance to sit this
out, then.”
“Wait,
we’re actually going out on the road?” they asked. “I thought this would just be in a parking
lot with a bunch of cones.”
“That’s
for our teenage newbie drivers: you guys are the older crew. We need real-life footage of what bad driving
looks like so the course shows students what not to do.”
He
started at this: “Oh, I thought we were selected to participate `cause we were good
drivers? Like, we don’t have any
felonies or warrants out for our arrest?”
The
facilitator stared at him: “And how would anyone learn from that?”
“Oh.”
He
saw a dashboard camera conspicuously pointed at the driver’s seat as he got
into the car; he buckled up and pushed back the seat while the facilitator
entered through the passenger side and began activating equipment.
“Now,”
the latter said without looking at him, “just drive as you normally would and
pretend this thing isn’t even here.” A
small but unavoidable red light flared on the camera.
“OK....” He sat up as straight as he possibly could
and placed his hands at 9:00 and 3:00 on the steering wheel. “How’s this?”
“Is
that how you normally drive?”
“…No.”
“How
then?” He sheepishly moved his hands to
7:00 and 5:00. “Perfect – off you go!”
He
started the engine after the facilitator exited, then leaned over to ask
through the open passenger-side window: “Wait, where do I drive to? And how long?”
“Wherever
your little heart desires! And you have 30 minutes, which started a minute ago.”
“Oh,
sorry, bye!” He zoomed out of the
parking lot and merged onto the highway.
Wonder if I can squeeze in some
take-out before heading back?
His eyes kept
being drawn to the camera, so much that he nearly hit a motorcycle changing
lanes even though it had signaled. “Whoopsie.”
Now
more on his guard, he maintained the speed limit and continued uneventfully
down the highway.
After
about five minutes, a voice blared out of the car radio’s speakers: “WHAT THE
BLAZES ARE YOU DOING?!”
He
yelped and nearly swerved off the road into a family of deer that was standing
next to the shoulder, minding their own business. “Wait, what are you talking about?! I’m trying to drive!”
“Were
you even listening earlier?!” The
facilitator’s voice had lowered in volume but not in screech. “We need examples! We need scenarios! We need near-misses and ‘Look-out!’s and ‘OMG!’s
and ‘WTF!’s”
Having
slowed down to a crawl, he was trying to sort all this out without pulling
over: “Wait, so, you want me to get into an accident?! On purpose?!”
“It’s
called ‘collision’ now, and that is clearly not what I am saying – we want you
to almost get into an accident.”
“How
am I supposed to do that?!”
“By
just being yourself and doing what you normally do: driving recklessly!”
“I
do not drive recklessly!” he countered as he picked up speed and swerved in and
out of traffic.
“Uh-huh.”
“You
were just distracting me earlier, which is very dangerous and irresponsible! Ooh, I’m coming up to a roundabout now, zip
it.”
“Uh-huh."
He
deliberately took his time merging into the roundabout, then was cut off from
exiting where he wanted because he had switched to the inner lane to get ahead
of the other cars, which now were passing by and blocking him. After two rotations, he zoomed ahead to make
a diagonal escape from the black hole, almost wiping out five cars that voiced
their objections by various means of sounds and gestures.
“Beautiful,” the
facilitator’s voice said.
He
was shaking as he headed back to the parking lot. “I had the right-of-way there, you know! They were all just being jerks!”
“Uh-huh. Incidentally, this course teaches drivers
that the right-of-way actually is given
by the other drivers on the road, did you know that?”
“I
could gladly have spent the rest of my life not knowing that. Besides, what good is all this if the camera’s
only getting my messed-up face the whole time?!”
“Oh
don’t worry about that – there’s another camera facing out that’s catching
everything else, so we’re covered. I
think we’ve got enough material out of you, and your time’s up so get back here
now, please.”
“I’m
already back here!”
“Oh
yeah, I see you now – cheers.”
He
parked the car by the group and shakily exited; the facilitator held the door
open and beckoned the next participant over.
He hesitated
before leaving: “So that’s it, you really don’t need anything else from me,
like texting or falling asleep or road raging or all that?”
“You
kidding? That would be illegal.”
