Mitzvoth and Humility

This morning, I went to an interview with an employment agency that I've never been to before. But they were recommended to me by a former employer, and I know several people that have worked through them and liked them.

During the initial part of the interview, they had me fill out all their customary paperwork. The receptionist showed me each form and explained what they were, including one that had a "spelling test" at the top. It looked very silly, and she smiled sheepishly as if to say, I know it's dumb, but we just do this.

So I dutifully filled out all of the information on employers and past job experience. I put my signature on the line for my federal tax forms, etc. Then I came to the spelling test. Now, initially, I was excited. I thought, I'm a writer, I'm going to ace this thing! Then, I just felt insulted. Here I am, supposedly a capable adult, and I am being made to circle the correct spelling out of two possibilities for words like "Acceptable."

More insulting to me was that the list included primarily common spelling mistakes, of the kind I have tried to avoid since high school, and earlier. But the truth is, I was afraid of spelling tests as a child. I can remember failing at them miserably in first and second grade, and feeling miserable and stupid because of it. I went on to take Latin in middle school, and Greek in college, and a few other languages in between. I focused on my writing and made a point of learning the rules of spelling so that I would never be tripped up again.

Now I am one of those annoying people who read books and get distracted by spelling mistakes. I read my emails about ten times over to make sure there isn't one misspelled word, even when writing to my friends. And I can't stand when people spell words like "definately" instead of "definitely." And yet, I wondered, with the mimeographed sheet there in front of me, is this a joke? Or does "Misspelled" really only have one "s"? Suddenly I was doubting my knowledge. And of course I would never misspell any of these words in an actual piece of writing. I thought, maybe I should say something.

So I got up and informed the woman at the desk that I was in fact a trained journalist and wrote for a living and had also previously been a writing tutor. I was prepared to get out my report cards for Latin in middle school and show her every spelling test I'd ever taken, if I could have found them. Never mind that I still make a practice of doing what one high school teacher suggested, which is to write down words I am not familiar with that I come across and look them up later. She smiled at me and nodded in a friendly way. She didn't care.

I sat down and looked at the next section, where I had to correct four sentences using appropriate punctuation marks. I wasn't sure if this was easy or difficult, and I began to doubt my instincts. Then I felt embarrassed thinking about what I had just said - how my mistakes would seem worse now, since I had set the bar so high. I can only hope I got them right.

There were some sections with more word questions, and did some arithmetic on the back. Some of it was easy, but some, though easy enough, were not problems I could do in my head. Yes, I was allowed use my calculator. "Just do it," essentially, was the idea.

So I finished the "test" and handed the receptionist my papers.

The rest of the interview went smoothly. But throughout the day, I kept thinking about that test. What was the point? Were they actually concerned that their potential temporary employees could not do basic spelling and arithmetic? Or did the answer lie somewhere else? Then it came to me. It was like that "test" teachers sometimes gave students in class that asked a bunch of silly questions and then, at the end, instructed you to put your pencil down and not to take the test at all. It was a hoax.

This test was not a hoax. But it wasn't about the answers to the questions. It was about whether or how I took the test. It was about whether I followed directions, even if the activity was stupid, or annoying, or possibly seemingly obvious, and maybe even a little bit humiliating. They were trying to see what kind of employee I would be - the kind who does the job willingly, or the kind who and asks questions.

I guess I gave them the answer to that one. But it seems to me much like the mitzvoth. And in much the same way, we are asked, in Judaism, to do many things that may seem stupid, or trivial, or beneath us. Like putting tin foil on our counters at Passover. But there is always a point. And we are supposed to swallow our pride and do these things anyway. Because it's not about whether we like what we do. It's about the fact that we are doing it. It is about showing that we are dedicated because we are not so worried about our personal appearance, or our abilities, or loveliness, or super-star qualities. We are just like everybody else. All human. All on the same level. Some of us are not exempted from life's requirements just because we happen to have studied, or been well-bred, or had a certain kind of experience or education. We can be as brilliant at Einstein, but when it comes to being human, we still have to cross our i's and dot our t's when it comes to dealing with life and our interactions with other people, no matter how demeaning it may seem to us.

And so I was humbled by my experience today. In fact, I realized even as I was speaking to the woman at the desk that my words meant nothing. My experience meant nothing. And afterwards, I just felt arrogant and obnoxious. It was such a small thing, and yet in my mind, it seems that stupid little test was probably one of the most important things that they had me do during that whole interview. How I responded gave them the real flavor of who I am, for better or for worse, more than I could ever say or put on paper.

And perhaps this is the kind of thing that is meant by saying that "the stone that was rejected shall be the chief cornerstone." Not that one thing that is rejected will turn out to be the most important thing ever. But that many of the things that we deem to be trivial or unimportant will turn out to be carrying a significant weight in our lives, and supporting us without our realizing it. And if we dismiss those things, well, then we might lose our balance and have to start building all over again. Building from scratch, with little things. Hoping that some small stone can be placed again right exactly where it is needed.