21 August 2008

Exam results are out - quick squeal for your life!

What is it with teenagers these days? You see the news reports on the telly of successful young folk receiving their exam results, and they celebrate by squealing and screaming and jumping around and hugging their friends. What drugs are they on?

Don't get me wrong, I'm really chuffed for all of them. They've worked hard for their results, and good luck to them.

What's all the screaming about though? When I got my GCSE results, we were just handed a thin strip of paper with the list of results on and told "there they are, bye then" and that was it. Go home and find a summer job. When I got my A-Level results, we were taken, one at a time, into a private room where a tutor would tell us our results and then, those of us who had applied for university places, were told which universities had accepted us and which had rejected us. (I still can't believe I chose Hull over Durham though!) There was no screaming, no hugging the tutor or our mates, it was a business-like affair followed by a swift half in the pub before going back to our summer jobs.

I really can't be doing with all of this childish demonstrative celebration and it worries me that these highly-strung teenagers are the future of this country.

Or maybe I'm just a boring old bastard with nothing better to do than sit here and whinge.


Anonymous said...

Couldn't agree more

I worry sometimes people think im a heartless sod, but I dont think I am. Its overdoing it at the end of the day - I even found the whole wailing in the streets over Diana laughable...

Lets form the cranky "stop being happy" union, no seriously :oP

Oz said...

Are you not in your happy place today then Womble? Let's all hold hands in a circle and help Womble find her smile. We're going to sing "If you're happy and you know it".

Anonymous said...

I'm clapping my hands, even if I don't know all the words!

Anyway, if its OK for teenagers with something to celebrate to squeal and shout then equally its OK for boring (older) bastards to rant at bad drivers and other challenging events in this daily grind.

Womble said...

Happy place, Oz? Most certainly not. I have spent the day fielding stupid questions by a boss who has cleared his desk by dumping the contents on the Intern's desk, and then spent the rest of the day bugging me.

For example:
Boss: "Are all the toner cartridges in the stationery cupboard new ones, or are they dead?"
Me: "Oh yeah, right, I love filling up my cupboard with dead cartridges cos they brighten the place up, don't they? "

Boss: "I did a windows search for a file on my computer, but it couldn't find it. Can you find it instead?"
Me: "No! Trust the computer. It's not there. You didn't save it. Again."

Boss: "Why did you not put the bin out this morning?"
Me:"cos it's already empty?"

Boss: "It's tomorrow you're off, isn't it?" (approx 30 times).

Boss: "Which is the bag for confidential shredding?"
Me: It'll be that big blue one marked 'confidential shredding' in 6 inch high letters.

Boss: "Have you got any picture hooks?"
Me: "No. Why on earth would I have picture hooks?"

Boss (seeing me eating a sandwich at 12:30): "What are you doing for lunch?"
Me: "I brought butties"
Boss: "Oh. So you don't fancy the canteen then?"
Me: "No."

Boss: "Can I search for a copy of a letter in that big pile of stuff on the end of your desk?"
Me: "No, it's not there"
Boss: "How do you know?"
Me: "Because I've already looked"
Boss: "I'll look again"
Me: "Touch it, and I'll chop your arms off."
Boss: "OK, so it's not there then?"
Me: "No. Go away, I'm busy".

Need I go on?

Roll on October.

[and... relax]

drew dunn said...

hi womble yes i fully agree



drew dunn said...

ps with what you said about the exam results

Seán said...

Aww! You big misery. Considering the shite these kides are going to put themselves through for the rest of their lives - let 'em squeak a bit!

Actually you only see the ones egged on by the media. Everybody else picks up their results and goes home. Then they ring their mates for a celebratory/commisseratory bus-stop-destruction session with a bottle of White Lightning and and ten Lamberts.

Don't believe the telly! (or me!)