Hard to Swallow

I'm beginning to think that no amount of money would make this worth it. Not only does everyone seem to be completing their surveys faster than me, but I also have to piss like crazy. I feel like I'm back in college at an 8 a.m. final, still drunk from the night before. But here, in this horrible place, the drinking is the test. I start circling answers arbitrarily. Dislike. Like extremely. Frosty. Great, loved it.

The last sample comes. The green apple is most powerful in this one, and I grimace as I choke down a swallow. I've drunk moonshine out of Mason jars that had less bite. I begin to get the acrid feeling of vomit tickling the bottom of my throat. I burp, and a little of it jumps into my mouth (known technically as a "vurp"). I lean to the side and wipe my lips on the drapes.

What do I like about the taste?

"Hello!" I write.

What do I dislike?

"Oh, my God," I scribble on the line. "Way too strong. I can't feel my tongue."

I am the last person to finish. I raise my hand and one of the researchers comes over and reviews my questionnaire. Four drinks and a bottle of water in a little over 45 minutes; I cross my legs and ask for permission to go pee. He gives me the okay and I head to the door, but I'm blocked by a large woman making her way back from the lobby with half of a complimentary sandwich crammed into her mouth. I scamper around her, doing an awkward speed walk all the way to the men's restroom.

I return much more relaxed, but then one of the researchers calls me over. There's a problem with one of my answers. "You wrote that you hadn't had a frozen malt beverage in the past four weeks," he says.

"That's because I haven't."

"Well, if you wouldn't have had any in the last four weeks, " he replies, "then you wouldn't have qualified for the study."

"Oh, no, I forgot," I stammer. "I had a Zima about three weeks ago. Uh, cherry-flavored."

The researchers put a special mark on all of my questionnaires; I think I've just been blacklisted. At the front of the room, Laurie is in a little huddle with her husband, Jessica and John. They mutter and look over at me. Did Laurie catch me trying to read her name tag and respondent number while I was taking notes, and think I was staring at her boobs? How hard do you think record-store-clerk-husband can swing that messenger bag?

Please select one: hard, very hard, extremely hard.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, or maybe this green apple is seriously messing with my brain.

My designated driver appears. "How was it?" she asks, and I start complaining loudly about the sugary nature of my drink.

The sandwich-eating woman pipes up from behind us: "Who cares about your opinion, anyway?"

"Yeah," says a goateed guy standing next to her. "What we just drank today, college freshmen all over the U.S. will be drinking next year."

Are they being sarcastic? I can't tell. I just give a halfhearted "Yeah" and take my check from the Cunningham people. The first thing I will do with the cash is buy my designated driver and myself a drink at the nearest restaurant: whiskey, to stab this goddamned taste out of my mouth. I don't just need to cleanse my palate; I need a power wash, like that stuff city workers use to remove graffiti. If there isn't a drink like that, some company should invent it. And then it can do test-market research on people like me who have just come out of other test-market studies.

My designated driver and I push through the wide glass doors and go out into the cool summer night. After surviving the frosty gauntlet, I'm walking with a little manly swagger. Jessica, John, Laurie and Laurie's husband are standing in a circle under the large carport. They've been waiting for me. "Are you some kind of double agent for another company?" Laurie asks. They saw me taking notes and wonder if I'm a spy for Absolut or another brand looking to get a jump on the hot Malternative market. Or maybe I'm an undercover quality-control expert for Smirnoff, making sure that Cunningham is testing its products correctly.

"Because we want to know how we can get in on that," Laurie says. "Getting paid twice for one test study, that'd be great."