So one of the experiments I finally lined up was this thing at the Veteran's Administration Hospital. It was one that I had planned more than a month ago, but rescheduled once, then twice, because of test grading projects. But I was able to pin down a time just after the second project started, yesterday afternoon.
So after spending my mornings at a McDonald's then going to the Hooters at the Mall of America, where I swigged a big mug of beer and felt a bit tipsy, I got to the VA complex. (There are a couple buildings there; I wen to the auxiliary one.) I was a tad late, but hey, good enough. After getting lost for a couple minutes, I found the room and the guy I was supposed to meet with. We got done with acquaintances, moved over to the sound room (which, just like the ante room, was old and cramped and could use a renovation ... well, actually, the whole building could be razed for a new one) and I started with the tests.
These were fill-in-the-blank tests about how my state of mind is. And I answered the same way I usually answer: Brutally honest at how irritated and depressed I often am. Well, I exaggerate a bit to make sure I get to do the experiment. Have done it for years, and even though it's been a long time since I filled out so many papers, I didn't see a problem.
Next there was an interview. Again I kind of fudged a bit, but I was nevertheless candid about what he was seeking: Was there ever a time you've been depressed? If so, how do you feel? Shit like that. Thought it was going well. With this research study paying me $150, I understand how thorough he needed to be.
But then, right in the middle of me describing the time I got rejected from all the colleges I wanted to go to back when I was 18, he shut his book. This right after I suggested that he use the desk to write on instead of the back of his hand because he looked so uncomfortable. "That's OK," he said, "I prefer writing like this. Actually I'm going to stop right there, because you are not qualified to continue this study."
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?! What do you mean I'm not good enough to do this study?!?!?! I was absolutely shocked. Things were going swimmingly, I was pouring my heart out to this guy, and he just fucking shuts me down?! That's never happened before! I need this money; why are you rejecting me?
Paraphrasing: "You seem to have depressive episodes, and that may skew the results of the experiment -- we are looking for healthy controls."
Wait, healthy controls? Were you serious about that? I remember him talking about me being a healthy control at the beginning of the session, but I didn't think I had to worry about disqualifying myself. Having a session screech to a halt and then being dismissed is a first. Frankly, I feel ambushed.
And from what I can tell, this guy was pissed off about it, too. I went to the bathroom while he called the person who screened me, as well as the professor overseeing this experiment. But when I came back, nothing changed; I had to go. I got paid $40, he continually said, "Sorry to waste your time," and he let me go. He was cordial, but he looked very frustrated. It felt as if he was getting me to leave as soon as he could because there was nothing else for me to do there. I think he felt blindsided, maybe even misled by me. Looking back on his attitude, I'm getting angrier at him. Does he believe I screwed him over? Does he think I, in fact, wasted his time? I think so. In which case, screw you, dude.
I'm confused by all this. My initial concern is not getting $150, like I thought I would receive for, basically, work. I was wrong to think I was entitled to it, but the bottom line is I lost $110 in income, and I have this urge to save my money in other ways to make up for it. How do I do that? I have no goddamn clue right now, and that pisses me off. I feel like I lost money.
But maybe I only have myself to blame? Both the screener and this guy did say "healthy control." Maybe I should have rethought my strategy. Maybe I didn't have to exaggerate. Maybe I should have not told him about my parents throwing out Grandmother, or the time I failed my driver's license for the second time, and how I felt. If I actually did pay attention to "healthy control," instead of letting it go through one ear and out the other, he wouldn't have rejected me for being too depressed to do the study, and maybe then I would have gotten the $150. Just didn't think I had to think about it, though, you know?
But that opportunity is gone now. And I am ... well, I'm depressed. How fucking ironic.
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