15 August 2006
I can't remember now why I did it. Curiosity, I suppose. Challenge, maybe. Or maybe I was just bored.
I'd been doing one of those little logic puzzles you get in the back of Sunday supplements, and when I read the small print, I saw that Mensa had placed it there. The accompanying text suggested that those who'd completed the puzzle should send it back, with a stamped addressed envelope, and in return – if the puzzle was completed correctly - they would send you a home test to complete, to see if you might be eligible to join.
So that's what I did. I carefully cut the completed puzzle from the magazine, put it in an envelope with a stamped addressed envelope and waited.
Sure enough, a while later an envelope arrived with the Mensa logo on the front and the at home test inside, complete with instructions on how you should complete it and how long you should allow for completion, which I followed.
Test done, off it went, back to Mensa for marking.
Based on this test, they'd tell you your provisional IQ (actual IQ can only be ascertained in a supervised test) and if your provisional IQ was high enough (98% or higher), they'd invite you to go sit the supervised test. If the resulting score bore out the results of previous tests, you'd be invited to join Mensa.
I had no expectations of a high score, and figured I might be in the slightly above average category at best, but a few days after I sent off the test, I stopped haunting the postman and forgot about it, so when a plain brown envelope with my name handwritten on the front arrived, I had no idea what it was.
Curious, I opened it up and when I peered inside and saw the Mensa logo on the letterhead, the adrenaline kicked in. It's funny, the results of the test didn't matter at all – whether I passed or failed or whatever mark I got wouldn't materially change my life. It wasn't as if it was a pass or a fail on a school exam. The only thing that it would decide was whether I would be allowed to sit another test.
So with shaking hands, I pulled out the various pieces of paper from inside the envelope and unfolded the covering letter… and nearly dropped it when I saw what it said.
My provisional IQ was marked, in pen, at the top of the letter, on what was obviously a form letter. Also marked in pen was a score.
They were congratulating me, and inviting me to sit the supervised test.
My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe it. Here, in black and white, on headed notepaper, was proof that someone other than my family thought that I was clever.
Fantastic. Amazing. I could go sit the other test! I could be in Mensa! I could be clever and lots of exciting things would happen to me as a result!
So I went to tell my dad, to show off, because after the initial shock wore off, I was proud of that bit of paper.
… and my dad's response, when he saw 99% marked on the letter?
"What happened to the other 1%?"
He was joking, but pride goeth before a fall, indeed.
So did you do the supervised test?
I did. Years back. And got through that an' all...
And here I was thinking you were only a pretty face ;)
Nah, she's got good boobs as well... ;-)
Tee hee.
Seriously, Did you take the Supervised test then? I want to know if I have another mate in Mensa...
I could tell you were smart, with this clever design and all.
But seriously: I took a supervised test after 5th grade, and came out one point beneath the Mensa threshold. I think the results were skewed though. I know my IQ is like, 200 or something :)
No, I never sat the supervised test, so I still don't know what my "proper" IQ is and I never joined Mensa.
Probably too late now - I'm far too old and addled and lost too many braincells :)
You should have done it. I've always known you are clever, but still - it would be cool to be in Mensa.
Not in the same league, but in a similar vein...
I remember my dad looking at one of my school reports which was straight A's, other than a single B for attainment in PE, (I got an A for effort, but whilst the mind was willing the flesh was very very weak!), and he asked "why did you get a B?"
You would think the fact that I was about 15 stone at the time would have given him some clue... (but he just thought I would make a fantastic right-back at hockey!)
Still a daddy's girl...
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
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