You crawl the rest of the way to work, grinning menacingly as you rev the engine of your 8-cylinder behemoth for no reason whatsoever. Finally, you are able to scurry into your office and don the raiments of your profession. You push the thick rimmed, Coke-bottle glasses onto your face, arrange the pencils in your bulging pocket protector, and holster the calculators on your hip. Your short sleeve dress shirt brazenly reveals your tatoo, "Born to Integrate" to any who dare look upon it. Do you think you're prepared for your first test of the day?