Mediocrity at Its Best

When I was in third grade, the topic for the science fair was "Ecology."  Because I was an aspiring entomologist (no, really), and already spent a lot of my free time catching butterflies (because nothing says 'normal' like a 9-year-old with a kill jar and relaxing fluid), my project was an exploration of how the prevalence of butterflies could indicate the health of an ecological system (alright, my dad probably came up with that...but I did catch all my own butterflies).

My parents took me to school early the day of the fair and we put up my display and I went to class and then the judges went around.  And they overlooked my magnificent project and instead handed first place to some kid who talked about recycling in a way that wasn't even an experiment.  Second and third place also went to recyclers; I didn't win anything at all.

My parents, having seen my competition, were confused, and went back to the school.  The judges carefully explained to my mom and dad - who, it may be noted, made their living as environmentalists - that I had "not understood" the topic.  "Ecology," they said, meant "recycling."  It did not mean whatever the hell this plants and butterflies business was that I was talking about, so unfortunately, I was disqualified.

But, okay, because they could see I'd put a lot of effort into it (and because my parents had gone to all the trouble to complain), fine, they'd give me an award anyway.  The "Special Award" (for real - it was a purple ribbon with the words "Special Award" on it), which I didn't understand as a 9-year-old, but my parents told me meant I'd done better than first place; it was basically like I'd won the entire science fair.

Well, except for the part where I wasn't going to get to go to the county level to compete.

***

A few months ago, I was out with a couple of friends when we were approached by an utterly unremarkable 25-year-old used car salesman.  Seemingly overwhelmed by the thought of having to choose between the three women in front of him, he threw his net wide, brazenly joining us at our table at Boscos and speaking to each of us in turn.

Now, there is being out of your league...and then there is being so far in over your head that you are not capable of grasping what it is you've gotten yourself into.  This young man, who had first made his presence known to us by banging on the window while we sat outside on the patio, was so clueless that it was physically painful to watch him.

When he finally left (gently prompted by all of us getting our checks and standing up to leave), he handed each of us his business card, went back inside to sit with his friends, and banged on the window at us one more as we walked off.

***

Sometimes in life you run across people who will give you "Special Awards" and business cards when what you probably really deserve is a trip to the county science fair or to catch the eye of a gentleman with a triple-digit IQ.

There's no "but" coming here.  This is just life.

Picture source.