Fun With Interview Questions

"Tell me a story." "Oh, God, why?"

Recent college graduates (like me!) are coming to the conclusion that the world has no pity on us. Even though we all have completed at least one degree, the world is still flinging itself around the star Sol at a mind-asploding pace, and life on Earth doesn’t really care whether or not we get a job.

You walk across a stage, grab the diploma from the Dean of Students, or whoever, and then you step outside and Sallie Mae loan officers are standing right there, contract in hand, grinning at you, and holding up a sign displaying the amount you owe in student loans. Hopefully you’ve thought about all of this before and have at least applied for jobs. And, if you’re lucky enough, you’ve gotten some callbacks and have gone in for interviews. In the interview, you’ve probably been asked some questions like: “What are your strengths, weaknesses?” But sometimes you get thrown a curve ball. Sometimes they ask you something like this: “If you could be any bird, what would you be?” That’s when you start thinking about whether or not you’ve applied to be a support staff officer or an ornithologist. It is petrifying on a visceral level.

But I’m here for you.

Wow your interviewer with some outside the box answers, like the ones that follow.

Q: What do you regret the most?

A: [put on a thousand-yard stare] Letting my girlfriend drive the car that night. I should have realized that the GPS wasn’t updated. That what it thought was the Interstate was really Dead Man’s Gorge.

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Nearly Drowning

Why I Kinda Almost Died

There are so many things I could tell you about today.

I could tell you about how my interview went.

I could tell you about how many times I thought I was going to kill my arm if I keep sleeping on air mattresses.

I could tell you about how I thought I was going to melt if I stay in this state too long. (It is ungodly hot in Tennessee.)

I could  tell you about how I’m still lamenting the loss of my external hard drive as a result of my own idiocy.

Instead, I’ll tell you about how I almost killed myself.

See, I had just finished the job interview, talked to my rents about it, and walked the dog. I decided that I’d celebrate by going for a little swim in the pool in the complex. Good idea, right? I don’t walk around a lot in Nashville (no one does), and so I needed to get some exercise in – and swimming’s a great way to do it.

Well, halfway through the swimming session, I decided that I’d start singing while swimming. And, as Fiddler on the Roof was one of my fondest memories from the past year, I decided that I’d sing “If I Were A Rich Man.” While on my back. In water. While moving. Sometimes, you see, I have lapses in good reasoning and decide to do things that should end up in my demise.

So there I am, thirty seconds later, sputtering by the side of the pool, cursing Chaim Topol for no reason other than he inspired me to be Tevye in the first place. I swore, then, that I would never sing while swimming again. Will I do it again? Probably. For two reasons:

  1. I am human, and thus I am stupid.
  2. I like singing when there’s no one around. There were geese, but they don’t judge.

You see, we all make pledges we won’t keep. Swearing not to drink after a hangover, for instance. I’m no exception, but, as I’ve rehearsed for the interview: “We all make mistakes. But, really, the only regrettable mistake is one from which we learn nothing.”

My Prose Resume

One of my options.

I wrote this in May. I think. It’s a little diddy I came up with when I was trying to figure out how to get a job in the UK. (This was before the Home Office and the Border Agency effectively broke my willwith their catch-22 regulations and requirements, by the way.)

Of course, if anyone reading this in the UK needs a good writer on staff for anything, and would like to sponsor me for a work permit, then, please, let me know. Otherwise, I’m working on getting a job in the US – and it’s going surprisingly well – and trying to figure out if I could handle living in Nashville after being in England. (England, for the uninitiated, is a land where the streets are a reasonable size and would not double as a landing strip for a Boeing 747.)

At any rate, this was one of the two things I wrote that I consider in the vein of David Sedaris – just not gay.

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