Today has got to be the worst driving lesson I’ve ever had. I did a repetition of the off-road test exercises. My instructor was so darn angry and frustrated with me, and I felt like I couldn’t do anything right. I don’t know if I wanted to cry or if I wanted to tell him to STFU.
First and foremost, if I could learn all this myself I wouldn’t need an instructor. Secondly, when a student makes mistakes before a test the teacher should be happy because it validates their profession. Thirdly, if he was angry because I was 15 minutes late, he really ought to remember being 20 minutes late yesterday (hence the photographs I was able to take during the wait). My being late shouldn’t bother him at all, I pay for 45 minutes of his time so if he spends the first 15 minutes waiting for me then obviously I should only get about 30 minutes of a lesson. But when he’s late, he uses up MY time. How many times has he bought takeaway during my driving time? How many times did he run personal errands during my driving time? Each and every time these occurred, my response had always been “nah, it’s no problem”.
Worst, it was an early lesson and it was the first thing I did today that involved social interaction. I had so many things to do after that, so many people to deal with. I already felt like it was going to be a sh*tty day. Don’t you feel that way sometimes, if the day starts out bad it will be a bad day? Anyway, I went to town to run some errands and tried my best to keep that killer smile on my face. It was tough, but I think I managed. So I’m glad I didn’t ruin anyone’s day by transmitting any form of anger and frustration I might have absorbed from my instructor.
Mysery loves company.
When a woman stands calm and collected next to an angry man, that’s when he really ought to be ashamed of himself.
That, and the fact that he is an instructor by profession…you’d think experience would benefit him in a situation like this. But no.
His attitude towards me today was uncalled for. He shouted at me, in front of all the other instructors, and even right now I still don’t understand what I did that pissed him off to that extent. I drove next to the line, I didn’t cross any line, I didn’t bump any cones, I drove between the cones…oh yeah, and when I drove to town and my morale was really low because of his obvious frustration with me, I lost confidence and asked “should I shift to ‘gear 2′ now?” and he replied “YOU SHOULD NEVER SAY GEAR 2, IT’S ‘SECOND GEAR’!” with a “WTF-is-wrong-with-you-tone”.
There’s absolutely NO WAY it was all me today.
Tomorrow is a new day. But from tomorrow onwards, it’s no more little miss nice Sabrina. I’ll be on time, and I will bloody complain if my lesson ends before the 45-minute mark. If he stops for a darn takeaway I will say what all pure local Seychellois say: “I don’t bloody pay you for lessons for you to use my time to buy your takeaway.” Everytime he is late, I will open my gap and remind him “you’re late”.
Believe-you-me I know how to wear pants, and I wear them darn well.