GCSE Results

If the Foreign Office ever start headhunting 16 year olds as future recruits, the best test available to them would be to examine how potential candidates share their GCSE results. I make this observation on the back of a full week of this activity, which I can safely say is a diplomatic nightmare.  

Like most people, I shared my grades on results day in August with my family and a few friends. The first week back, however, is when every Tom, Dick and Harry seems entitled to inquire about your results, and unless you want to appear churlish no other option exists but to satisfy their curiosity.  

For those concerned about the potential effects of this on their reputation, the only objective is to avoid sounding arrogant. Sounds simple enough, but it’s easier said than done.

There are two ways, however, by which one can minimise this risk from the off. The first is to truly, horrifically, balls up your GCSEs. I’m not talking about A’s and B’s here – I’m talking C’s, D’s and E’s. With these on the Curriculum Vitae one can be certain that the other person in conversation has performed better – thus no manner of obnoxiousness can cause offence.

The second, more subtle strategy is never to be the one to ask, ‘How were your results, mate?’ The reason being that if the other person reveals worse GCSEs than your own you then face the task of revealing yours in a voice that is neither gloating nor patronising; a tricky test for any actor. In contrast, being asked your results first makes it far easier to divulge them in a neutral tone that is unlikely to offend.

Exhibiting diplomacy with regards to one’s GCSEs extends beyond face to face conversations to social media. Some of my peers failed this part abysmally on results day with imprudent online activity. Posting a Facebook status of ‘11 A*s! So chuffed!!’ is only going to make people hate you. Even worse is expressing disappointment in objectively excellent grades, as one boy in my house achieved by posting an unhappy ‘smiley’ alongside his results of 9 A*s 1 A.

In fact, it is wise to avoid social media altogether. Even a self-deprecating status can become irritating, since it invites cloying non-comments from sycophantic aunts such as ‘there’s more to life than grades, Henry' or ‘you tried your best anyway’ (when the sum total of his revision probably topped three hours).

Other pitfalls to avoid include making excuses and overkilling the modesty. The first attracts zero sympathy – no-one gives a monkey’s if the wrong question came up or if your pen ran out of ink. Deal with it. The second can be just as irksome – if you got an A* in Maths just say so and be happy – don’t suggest your paper was swapped accidentally, particularly if you recently won an ‘Algebra Olympiad’.

Personally, I have managed to maintain successful diplomatic ties with everyone in my block when sharing my results. Everyone except Runty that is.

Runty (not his real name) is my nemesis in the house. Not only are we in the same house, we are in the same block too. This means that over the past three years we have spent a significant amount of time in each other’s company. As a result, I can testify that he is the most boorish, ignorant and irritating person I have come across, and I dislike him a lot.

The worst thing about him, however, is that plenty of people disagree with me. Despite my words of discouragement even Hugo, my best friend, enjoys hanging out with him occasionally. All of this makes me think that Runty was sent by some divine being to test me here on earth.

With this in mind, you will understand how I felt when I discovered from a third party that Runty’s GCSE results had been inferior to my own. I immediately punched the air in delight and spent the next three hours in a state of brilliant satisfaction. But then I sensed an opportunity. An opportunity to rub this glorious fact in Runty’s face and let him know who the boss was.

So it was that at lunch on Monday I strolled up to our C block table and took my place opposite Runty. Pretending to check my phone, I casually said without looking up, ‘Hey Runty, I never asked, how’d your GCSEs go?’
‘6 A*s, 4 A’s’ he replied tersely.
‘Hey, nice one mate!’ I said in the most patronising voice possible, ‘That’s really great for you!’
‘How about you?’ he asked irritably.
‘Well, I should have done a lot, lot better. But I managed to get 8A*s, 2As. Still’ I said, putting my phone away and winking at him, ‘it was enough to beat you, wasn’t it!’