For days, it felt like a desert, metaphorically and literally. We were stuck with nothing to do while the air was thick with heat. The air conditioning in the building was broken for the first few days of what we called “Audit,” or what I called “The audit.” I’m not sure which is closer to the emotional reality of the situation.
When I started my current job a little over two and a half years ago, the idea of an audit that didn’t involve accounting confused me. I asked one of the managers, and he kindly explained that the widgets we specialize in are considered an asset to the widget company. Because the company is public and not private, shareholders want to know the value of the company, which apparently includes widgets. This means everyone stops working so they can be counted once a year. Now I’m sure if you’re reading this you must be wondering, “ A break from work, that sounds wonderful,” and it was, for the first day or two.
The best and worst thing about my job is the repetitive nature. I go to work, and I know what my day is going to look like day after day. There is some variety depending on the time of day, week, month, and year, but for the most part, there isn’t much that changes. My psychiatrist has noted that the stability my job affords me is one of the reasons my mental health has stayed so even. I agree, and having this stability has allowed me to experiment more with hobbies. While logically I understand why the audit is happening and that it is part of the business cycle, it throws a wrench into my normally stable work schedule. This happened the week following a very busy and social weekend. Instead of recovering in a predictable work environment, I felt that I was using energy I didn’t have to regulate through a schedule change. The extra time helped me study for an upcoming exam. What surprised me was that I didn’t seem to be the only one.
My coworkers in the field were all out of whack, not knowing how to proceed. People in the office were not enjoying the heat wave, which, I mean, who can blame them? The uneasiness extended into my weekend. Saturday, I had to take my CPACC exam. I had been studying for months, but I still didn’t feel prepared. I showed up to the testing center, and the building was locked with a security guard sitting inside. Another test taker was there, and we were escorted to the suite. Upon entry, trying to be helpful, I put my items in a locker as instructed by a sign. When the front desk person arrived, I was told I had done the steps out of order and that I couldn’t have a locker until I had taken a number. I dutifully took my items out of the locker, took a circular number, and took a seat.
Test-taking procedures have changed greatly since I took my last standardized test. Both my palms were scanned. I was taken aback by this and by the TSA-style security body wand scan performed before I could enter the testing room. I didn’t understand why they scanned both palms a second time before I could enter the testing room and before I could leave. I had also been told I had to raise my hand before getting up when I was done with my exam. All of this took me back to my days taking AP exams, except with a lot more security.
I was relieved when I was finished taking my exam and could leave this odd testing center of horrors on my way out. I met someone who had taken a different professional exam. She mentioned that her exam told her, once she submitted it, that she had passed. I have to wait four to six weeks for my results. If I don’t pass, I have to wait two exam periods before I can retest, which is fine by me because I won’t be rushing back to a testing center. This whole experience reminded me how important routine, structure, and recovery are for me, and what happens when I don’t have these. Here’s hoping I don’t have to break from my routine again to retest.
Living on the Spectrum 
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