#5 — Lana: The Examiner Who “Hated” Her

 

Lana technically had previous driving experience.

 

And by “experience,” I mean the classic teenage:

“Had a shot in a car park once.”

 

Which in learner-driver terms usually translates to:

• drove in a straight line,

• stalled twice,

• nearly mounted a kerb,

• and came away believing they already “basically know how to drive.”

 

Her real motivation for lessons arrived later.

 

Her sister had just started learning.

 

Then her sister stopped after falling pregnant.

 

And Lana immediately identified what can only be described as a deeply sibling-based opportunity:

 

She could become the first one to pass.

 

Honestly, sibling rivalry is an underrated motivational force in driver training.

 

Suddenly attendance improves.
Theory gets revised.
Lessons become serious business.

 

And to be fair to Lana, the training itself went reasonably smoothly.

 

Nothing dramatic.
No major behavioural problems.
No crippling anxiety.
No wildly unusual learning difficulties.

 

Just normal learner-driver progress:

• decent weeks

• frustrating weeks

• recurring mistakes

• gradual improvement

 

Around 40 hours in, she reached test standard and booked the test.

 

Then disaster struck almost immediately.

 

She failed within the first minute.

 

And from that exact moment onward, a dangerous narrative formed in her head:

 

“The examiner doesn’t like me.”

 

Not:

“I made a mistake.”

 

Not:

“I got nervous.”

 

Not:

“I need to improve.”

 

No.

The examiner was the problem.

 

A few weeks later came attempt number two.

 

Same examiner.

 

Which, realistically, wasn’t shocking. We only have a very limited number of examiners in Perth.

 

But to Lana, this wasn’t coincidence anymore.

 

This was evidence.

 

Second test:
Fail again.

 

Now the story became emotionally charged.

 

“She’s got it in for me.”

 

“I can drive.”

 

“How dare she fail me.”

 

“That car pulled out in front of me — how is that my fault?”

 

And this is where driving psychology gets fascinating, because objectively, Lana could drive reasonably well.

 

On lessons she was often absolutely fine.

 

But she’d entered a feedback loop:

 

• sees examiner

• becomes angry

• anger destroys concentration

• mistakes appear

• fail confirms belief

• next test starts with even more anger

 

By attempt three, the examiner hadn’t even entered the car before the test was already psychologically compromised.

 

The same examiner stepped out to collect her.

 

And honestly?

 

I could visibly see Lana’s mood collapse.

 

Instantly

 

Head dropped.
Face hardened.
Fight mode activated.

 

At that point, I wasn’t remotely surprised when the third result came back as another fail.

 

Now the plans escalated.

 

She wanted:

• a different test centre

• formal complaints

• investigations

• a different examiner

• validation that she was somehow being targeted

 

In her mind, this woman had become the villain of the entire story.

 

But the difficult conversation finally had to happen.

 

The examiner isn’t failing you, Lana.

 

You’re failing yourself.

 

Because the same person who was falling apart on test was driving perfectly competently during normal lessons.

 

That matters.

 

It meant the issue wasn’t technical driving skill anymore.

 

It was emotional self-regulation.

 

The examiner had unknowingly become a psychological trigger.

 

And until Lana separated the person from the emotion, nothing would change.

 

Eventually — reluctantly — she booked attempt four.

 

Same test centre.

 

And because life occasionally has a brutal sense of humour…

…the exact same examiner walked out again.

 

But this time something was different.

 

Lana had exhausted the anger.

 

There was no energy left for outrage, conspiracy theories, or emotional warfare.

 

She drove.

 

Just drove.

 

Not perfectly.
Not flawlessly.
But calmly enough to let her actual ability appear.

 

And at the end of the test, the result finally came back:

 

Pass.

 

Then came the moment I still remember most.

 

Lana burst into tears.

 

Not anger this time.

 

Relief.

 

Pure emotional release after months of carrying around stress, resentment, embarrassment and pressure.

 

And the woman she had spent months describing as:

• unfair

• biased

• horrible

• “out to get her”

 

suddenly became:

“the nicest person in the world.”

 

There were hugs.
Tears.
Thank-yous.
Total emotional reversal.

 

Which perfectly proved the real lesson underneath the entire story:

 

The examiner had never changed.

 

Lana had.