NOTE: Sorry to all of you who loved the old JTMSCBAKS, but I was realizing quickly towards the end of last year that I was running out of jobs to mock. Instead, Saturdays will now be the home of random posts that don’t necessarily deal with job searching, business, self-motivation and all the other stuff you see during the week. And Sunday Links will resume tomorrow.
Last week, I had to go to traffic school to clear a ticket I was issued a few days before Christmas. I got the ticket because I made a left turn and cut off a police car. Yes, I know it was a dumb thing to do. I have no excuse for it. Which is why I went to traffic school.
If you’re one of the lucky few to have never gone to traffic school, then you should know that it’s a long, arduous process, full of really old instructional videos (either acted out by mid-’80s/early-’90s TV stars or by people who can’t act), droning monologues by the instructor and tests on things that you promptly forgot after taking the written test for your license. It’s five of the most painful hours of your life.
Luckily for me, I had Fred as my instructor.
A lanky man, Fred stands at least 6 feet, five inches tall, and looks like a cross between Michael Phelps and Lurch from The Addams Family. His job during the week is teaching 5th grade. He is divorced. He owns a dog. And Fred sometimes refers to himself in the third person.
Self-deprecating and full of asides about his personal life. Fred was one of the most original and interesting instructors I’ve ever had. The class only really lagged when he had to put on the instructional videos. Here are a few examples of the Tao of Fred:
Actually, it’s the law for anyone in Arizona under 4’9″ to use a booster seat – even if they’re an adult. Fred knows this because he knows a lady who is under that height requirement. Yes, we dated for a week. And before you judge, remember that when you look like Fred, you take what you can get.
If you’re going to flash the peace sign minus one finger, and I don’t mean the gesture to tell the other person ‘we’re number one,’ you can go to jail. Yes, finding this out has made Fred’s morning commute a lot more interesting…
It might not seem overly hilarious, but Fred’s stories, demeanor and overall presence helped elevate what could have been one of the most brain-meltingly numb experiences of my life into something that was actually kind of enjoyable. But that’s the difference that comes across when you find someone who likes doing what they do, or who has found a way to make their job fun.
So to all of you Freds of the world, thank you.
