In the two and a half years since I got my license, I have hit cars on three separate occasions. To be fair, I was in reverse and paying zero attention at the time of each accident. Fortunately, all of these incidents occurred in my driveway (sorry mom and dad) and left me with a pristine driving record. With these skills in my arsenal it only seemed appropriate that I take on a work study job as a van driver for the Center for Social Justice.
If you are a student like me with sub par driving skills and a passion for lip syncing behind the wheel, allow me to paint a picture of what a workday could be like for you. To become a certified driver of the monstrous twelve passenger van, I was required to take an online course that took me approximately forty five minutes. This consisted of all common sense questions and was completed while I simultaneously binge watched Entourage. Once you take the course, it’s time for you to dive right in. Myself and two other equally unqualified drivers were given the keys to a van and a map and set out on the open road.
Our goal was to drive the assigned route and return to Georgetown by 2 p.m. We had lofty ambitions to stop at Chick Fil A and listen to as much awful music as possible. Things were going swimmingly until the first driver hit an extremely narrow one way street. It turns out DC residents love double parking almost as much as they love politics! The driver took her chances turning down the road. That’s when I heard “Girl you gonn hit that, girl stop right now,” felt a jolt and participated in my first CSJ van accident! We called our coordinator who seemed to care less, filed a police report and wrote a casual note to slip under the windshield of the car we had hit. After a charmed interaction with the Metropolitan police, we put it in drive and went on our way.
By the time it was my turn to take the wheel, I felt no pressure at all. If I hit something now, I wouldn’t be doing anything the other driver hadn’t already done. I also couldn’t wait to tell my skeptical father that I wasn’t the first one to get into an accident. My portion of the drive went smoothly despite my directionally challenged nature and lack of technical skills.
Now, once a week, I get paid to drive tutors to various sites in Washington, DC. In between dropping them off and picking them up, I go to a local Wendy’s where I get a ton of strange looks by patrons wondering why that small caucasian female is driving a huge white van in their neighborhood. After I get my frosty, I sit in the front seat, blast Whitney Houston and sing at the top of my lungs. The moral of the story is that I get paid for all of this and you can too. Support social justice, apply to drive a CSJ whip today!