I Passed!!!

So I checked online today for my test score and I got an 86! Passing is 75, so I totally over shot it. I guess that means that I can slack off on studying even more for the next parts!
I was the happiest person this morning when I found out and told everyone I knew! I’m not really sure the mail girl or the maintenance guy really knew what a CPA was, but now they know that I passed something. You’d think I was done with the whole thing because of how I was acting. But I still have three more parts to go.

Honestly I am pretty shocked I did so well. I know most people like me always say that and end up doing well. But I left that test feeling drained and at the end, I didn’t even proofread my work because I was so sure it was in vain. And now I’m researching awards I could qualify for if I get the highest CPA score! I had been especially worried after researching on the internet a little more about pass rates. They are crazy low. My new goal is to be one of the 5% of people who pass all four parts on the first try. My next one is scheduled for February 12th. I found out my friend who also took the exam that day also passed. But she only got an 80. Ha. 80. I could get an 80 in my sleep.

My co-workers were very proud of me and my test results. The senior I’m working with told me to tell our boss. I was like “What, am I supposed to waltz into his office, interrupt whatever he’s doing and be like ‘Hey, listen up. I just passed part of my CPA that you probably didn’t even know I took. So when’s the parade?’” And when I made this comment out loud, the group I was talking to got very quiet. “Um, that’s kind of what I did when I passed.” One girl said. “Yeah, I sent an email to the Vice President.” Someone else said. Oh. I’m all about bragging about my accomplishments, but I find it a little silly to ask for a gold star of approval from the big boys upstairs over passing ¼ of a big test.

The office is starting to get quiet and cold this week, because everyone seems to be taking off for their Christmas vacations. One girl is getting married and will be gone for a month. Another is taking her two weeks vacation to just sit at home and chill. And then about 10 more are actually going somewhere for Christmas. So that means next week this department is going to be a ghost town. I am quite excited at the prospect. It’s always cool to be one of the few people in the office when the VP comes down to our floor for something and he’ll be like “Where’s Matt?” and I’ll be all “Oh, he’s on a three week vacation.” “Oh, where’s Pat?” “She’s at home.” “And Bill?” “He’s skiing I think.” And I’m there working away. Total bonus points.

So this weekend will be fun. I intend to go out and celebrate my 86. Anyone care to join me?

A situation I must address...

I have been on a search the past week for the perfect dress. Our company Christmas party is this Saturday, and after having put my social life and shopping life on hold for about a month to study for that damn test, I now find myself a few days out from the best party of the year without a thing to wear. And it’s pretty hard to come up with an awesome dress after the biggest shopping days of the year. I think the women came through the malls like locusts and bought everything, leaving behind only bewildered sales people and a few size 16 jungle print dresses.

On Sunday I began my search. The mall was so packed and crowded and full of strollers. I starting feeling like an old lady, complaining about the crowds and kids everywhere. If I’d had a cane, I probably would have poked people with it.

To understand why a great dress is so important, I must explain that our company holiday parties are so cool. After looking at my posts from last year, I can’t believe I didn’t blog about it before! There are various divisions to my company and they all have their own parties. My division, as I’ve previously mentioned, is what I like to call the old person division and the Christmas parties, while always with the best intentions, end up as snooze-fests with a lot of food and some old couples dancing to a crappy jazz band, which isn’t so entertaining after you’ve maxed out on your two drink maximum.

But last year, I was lucky enough to snag an invitation to the happening, young division’s holiday party. A good friend of mine invited me as his plus one and it was the party of the year. They rented out one of the biggest and best night clubs downtown in its entirety. The place had like 5 different rooms, each with a theme and matching music and food. They had an open bar all night, sushi chefs, carving stations, chocolate fountains, arcade games, fortune tellers, salsa lessons, and of course dancing. It seems like only yesterday… I remember it most vividly because my supposed “friend” who invited me starting treating the night a little too much like a date, so I ran off to the bar on my own, only to find the now boyfriend there ordering a drink. I’d met him briefly once before through a work friend, so I thought I’d go up to him and say hi. That is now known as the famous moment when he fell for me.

But I digress. This year’s party promises to be just as great. And to top it off, I found out my division is stepping it up this year and is also having a party at a night club in downtown. And with the addition of an open bar, things are looking up. I’m sure the place will still clear out by 9:30, since the oldies have to go to bed and all, but the time is listed as going until 1 AM. The only problem is that my party is on the same night as the boys! So we’re going to be splitting our time between the two and hopefully can drunkenly stumble the five blocks between parties without incident.

So anyway, the key to this whole party is having a great dress. As many of you may recall from my former myspace profile picture, last year my dress left little to the imagination and created cleavage that I never knew I had. It wasn’t until I saw pictures the next day that I realized why I got so much attention. So this year I’m trying to go a little more tasteful. After all, you dress for the job you want, right? And I do not want the job of the girl who sleeps her way to the top. That was last year’s dress.

***

Update, I have found a dress! It is cute and strapless, yet tasteful. But I think I look pretty hot in it. If I don’t get hit on by at least one executive, I’ll consider the night a total loss

The Evilest Test in all the Land

I have way more respect for CPA’s now. Even if they’re idiots now, at one point in their lives they had their shit together.

The test I took last week was so crazy hard. Usually I can get by on tests by just being my smart little self and getting into the mind of the tester and figuring out those multiple choices without really knowing anything. But this time, I was in trouble. No more relying on smart and cute. This test was all technical and was not messing around. The only moment when my all those AP days finally came in handy was during the open answer section where I was asked to “define the meaning of ‘efficiency and effectiveness’ and how they relate to a company’s internal controls.” I think I used more big words then any accountant ever has before. I’m hoping they’ll read my answer and pass me just so they can let someone into the profession who will be able to proofread other accountants’ work.

The whole testing process was crazy strict. The room was all quiet and windowless and contained one pleasantly plump southern woman who was proctor for the test site. Every time she got up from her desk, she had to put her thumb on a little electronic pad at different stations so she could verify she was somewhere in the room. It was a little creepy. After checking two types of ID, she told me that my exam was 4 and a half hours long and that I could take three 5 minute breaks but I could not leave the room or take out any books or papers. This did not bode well for me as all I brought with me were books and papers.

When I signed in, I noticed I could tell what type of exam all the people in the room with me were taking by looking at their section of the sign in/out sheet. The girl in the booth next to me was taking her Cosmetology exam. The proctor girl then gave me a key to a locker where I could put everything. I couldn’t even take a sweater into the testing room, much less a pencil. She escorted me to my computer “stall” in the testing room, which was all videotaped and monitored. I felt like every time my eyes wandered from the screen, the camera would zoom in on me and the southern lady would be glaring at me through the one way glass, so I’d quickly duck my head back within my “stall” and pretended to keep working. (In actuality I was cheating of the Cosmetology girl.)

Taking breaks was an experience. All I had brought to eat was a granola bar and I’d forgotten water. But I had to eat my food in front of the monitor lady, I guess so she could be sure I didn’t have any notes taped over the wrapper. So I had to eat my granola bar while hunched ashamedly in the corner, with my eye on the clock. Then I’d walk the four feet back to the southern lady’s desk and she’d ask for my ID. Everywhere I went I had to take my ID. I was like “I haven’t left the room.” And she was all “I need to check your ID upon each exit and entrance to the exam.” And I’d have to sign in and out on a sign in sheet. Each sign out and back in was like 2 minutes apart. I thought about labeling each one:

Sign out 1: 9:54 to 9:56 – pee break.
Sign out 2: 11:02 to 11:03 – two bites of granola bar.
Sign out 3: 12:33 to 12:34 – just to bug the proctor

By 1 PM, I’d only eaten a handful of cereal and two nervous bites of the granola bar. I had to wear the noise-cancelling headphones just to drown out my growling stomach. Not the mention to drown out the noise of the tapping keys of the girl at the computer next to me, who I can only assume was writing novel about the use of non-acetone nail polished for her Cosmetology license.

I finished the test early, and upon my final sign out, the southern lady said “Well, I see there’s four parts to this test, so I assume I’ll be seeing you again soon. I’ll keep an eye out for the red head.” OK, now I really don’t like this place.