A Vegas wrap-up is forthcoming. Don't worry, I'll have plenty of time for it now that I'm working 20 fewer hours a week. Yep, I've now even been laid off from a cashier job. Don't get me started. Not that I'll miss waiting on the children of the stars, but damn.

First, however, I must vent my spleen on the topic of the Princeton Review.

I just returned from an interview with them, to teach SAT to the children of the wealthy instead of ringing up their tater tots. Would have been an improvement, albeit not much of one. Anyhoo, they call part of the screening process an "audition," and -- true to the SAT analogy Underemployed actors:LA::Maggots:Rotting flesh -- there was a young blonde woman whose 5-minute teaching demo showed us how to speak in an English accent. A bad one.

After I'd already cleared my schedule, shown up, taken their diagnostic sample SAT, done my own teaching demo (how to make beer, natch), and generally given these cretins (SAT word) too much of my time, I discovered in the interview that the Princeton Review's exclusivity contract says you can't tutor or teach anywhere else while you work for them. I pointed out that I teach reading to 7th graders, not SAT test prep. No dice.

Have I mentioned that no part of this process involved a resume, and they flat-out tell you they don't care if you have any experience as long as your "audition" is good?

The answer that best summarizes the main point of this passage is:
a) The Princeton Review wants amateur night, they'll get it -- but they won't get me.
b) Parents paying hundreds of dollars to send their kids to Princeton Review are paying a premium to have them taught by charismatic cuties who may or may not have any teaching experience, and are definitely not teaching anywhere else at the moment, like a real school.
c) F*ck off, Princeton Review
d) All of the above.