That's Q and A, mind you, not T and A. (Sorry to get your hopes up, dudes (and open-minded ladies).)
Purple Cow's recent post has eight questions I have to answer. It's like a homework assignment, but without the math.
- Why do you blog? Have the reasons changed as you've been doing it?
- Why do they ask "What animal are you most like?" at job interviews? And what could they possibly learn about the person being interviewed when they ask this question? (Also feel free to share any other stupid questions you've been asked at job interviews).
- If you were to arrange a rendezvous with your 18-year-old self what would you say to yourself? How much would you have in common? Would you accuse yourself of something?
- Imagine me? What do I look like?
- Have you ever surprised yourself with your own wickedness?
- What makes you special and different from this blob called humanity?
- Do you ever wonder if you are wrong about everything you currently believe and hold to be true? And if it turns out that none of it is as it seems would you wish to be told the TRUTH a minute before you die or die not knowing at all?
- So how come it's 8 questions? Why not 5, 7 or 10? Why 8? Do you want more or do you wish you'd had less?
I've written before about how I ended up with a blog by accident. I had to decide whether or not to use it. At the time (early 2006), I was a full-time employee with stalled education plans. I had written a novel and was stalled in the middle of a second. I thought having a blog would force me to write at least a little something somewhat regularly, so I started using it.
I only had two readers (my wife and her best friend, Angela). I posted a few times a month for four or five months, and then took three months off. That was when it would have naturally died, but my job had become infuriating and my blog became a place to legally release my frustrations.
Now I use my blog as a place to flesh out column ideas, and I harbor irrational dreams that it will turn out to be the cyber equivalent of Lana Turner's drug store.
I say it's because most interviewers are idiots. How do I know this? Because most interviewers are bosses. Review your work history. You know what I'm implying is true.
A vacancy comes up and suddenly a paper-pusher wants to be a psychologist. "I'm going to find out something about their psyche not even they know!" he says to himself. What he's really revealing is his own asshattery.
I've written before about the feces question I was asked on a job interview (also on another Purple Cow assignment, actually). That one was pretty weird. The question that bugs me the most is "Where do you see yourself in five years?" That's just dumb. I can show no ambition by saying, "In the position I hope you'll give me," I can show arrogance by saying, "In your job," or I can show a lack of commitment by saying, "Not with this train wreck, I'll tell you THAT much!" The fact is, five years isn't what it used to be. In five years I will have run my course with the company and the hiring manager asking the question will be three-years' departed, anyway.
"Keep it zipped up." And then 18-year-old me would say, "Whatever, old man." And life will have played its way out exactly as it has.
I should recuse myself for this one, since I know your real name and have looked you up on Facebook. You told me I could befriend you there, but I thought, "She probably doesn't really mean it," and I haven't done it yet. But I'll say this: you didn't look like I imagined. I imagined more "Australian" and less "in Athens," you know what I mean? At the time I didn't know you were of Greek heritage; I thought you were a regular my-ancestors-are-criminals Australian who ended up in Greece.
When I finally get to the point where I say, "Ah, screw it," I can do some crazy stuff. I know this, so it's not really a surprise, other than the fact that point sneaks up on me. I do something totally ill-advised and I say, "Huh, I guess I'm being destructive now. Who knew?"
Not much. There's always somebody who can do everything I can do, and better. But I'm probably a unique combination of all my skills and traits, and my family likes me better than they'd like a replacement me that can do all the same stuff.
I'm certain of my religious convictions. I'm nearly certain of my political first principles, but I am just guessing as to their policy implications. I could be completely wrong about what laws or proposals I think are correct, if I'm misreading the first principles. I don't think I am, but then my views are not identical to those I held five years ago, which is evidence that me now thinks me then was misreading the implications. If I could do it then, I could be doing it now.
Eight questions sets the list apart, makes it more memorable and less daunting than a 10-question list.
I'll come up with my eight questions to ask all of YOU over the next couple days.