The (in)Complete Idiot's Guide to Interviewing

Every now and again, as a service, I like to provide my readership with useful advice. I’d like to take this opportunity to do just that. In this installment of Blogger Knows Best, I am sharing a list of Interview Dos and Don’ts. You would be wise to consider these tips when next seeking gainful employment.

1. Memorize ALL Nobel Prize winners who have worked at or attended the office/workplace/institution to which you are applying so that when your interviewer tells you that, say, Milton Freeman worked in the same office she now occupies, yours won’t be the deer-in-headlights blank facial expression. “Milton Freeman… Ring any bells?” “Uhhh…” “Won a little something called the Nobel…” “Oh, that Milton Freeman.”

2. Avoid sweating at all costs. This may involve turning down an outdoors walking tour in 100°F plus heat. It may involve not wearing an undershirt beneath your dress shirt.

As a corollary, if you do plan on sweating or will be unable to prevent sweating, do not, I repeat, DO NOT, wear one of those newfangled water-repellant dress shirts such that when a drop of sweat rolls down your face it won’t bounce off your shirt onto the desk you’re sitting in front of. Trust me, once you see the first few sweat bullets skid down your front side, they will only flow faster; before you know it, you’ll have veritable rivers of unabsorbed sweat balls cascading down your torso. “Are you okay? Can I get you a glass of water or a towel?”

3. Don’t drink more coffee or water than your bladder can contain for the expected duration of your interview. “Why are you dancing?”

4. If your interview involves eating at a restaurant and you are asked what type of food you like to eat, be honest. Don’t say you’d be happy to eat anywhere if you really wouldn’t. If there is a type of food you just can’t stomach, no matter how obscure (Lebanese, Ethiopian, Antarctic), speak up. Better you share your opinion earlier than later. “Great, Middle Eastern cuisine it is, then.” “Oh, um, great. I love me some shwarma.” “What?” “Nothing. Sounds great.”

Listen. Trust me as you would your fortune cookie. Once broken, I issue great wisdom. Follow my advice, and you will go far. The job of your dreams awaits you.



As with any fortune cookie worth its weight in flour, here’s your complimentary Chinese lesson.

烤肉串
“shish kebob”

Here we go.

I put little stock in horoscopes and palm reading, but cookie fortunes are another matter altogether. These are indubitably the real deal. For example, when a cookie once told me that I’d soon be receiving a call from a special friend, lo and behold, not 12 days later did the representative from the local newspaper call asking if I wanted to receive the Sunday edition! On another occasion, my fortune declared, “Success will follow your patience”; the following year, I was given a raise. I especially treasure those fortunes that help you learn Chinese with translated words on the reverse side of the sage advice. With the help of these crispy, wisdom-laden cookies, I’m mastering piecemeal the Chinese tongue. For example, “湿鸟不在晚上飞行。” (Translation: “Wet birds don’t fly at night.”)

After a sumptuous helping of General Tso’s chicken, the friendly southern Chinese waiter brought us our fortune cookies. I was perplexed when I read mine:

“Here we go. Moo shoo cereal with duck sauce for breakfast.”

My wife then read hers aloud:

“Here we go. Whole grain low fat green tea.”

Clearly, these fortunes were some sort of mistake. I imagined some multitasking wise Chinese philosopher simultaneously spouting off two lists to his scribe: one of novel menu items, the other inspired fortunes. I can hear the old man thinking of new menu items off the top of his head, uttering, “Here we go” before each new culinary idea. The sure-to-be-fired scrivener must surely have gotten his lists confused, scribbling verbatim the “Here we go”-prefaced food items on fortune slips.

Somewhere, I am sure, there exists a menu with my wife’s and my fortunes in place of Chinese breakfast foods and healthy beverages. My misplaced fortune, perhaps, “Better things are yet to come”, will be printed in the left hand column (where the food items are normally found, below Mongolian beef and above chicken and broccoli), followed by the “$12.00” price tag. In the drink section, after hot tea, sweet tea, and raspberry tea, will be printed the fortune rightfully belonging to my wife, now costing $2.00: “Trust your instincts. They will take you far.”

Until I can be sure, though, that this was in fact a simple mix-up, I carry the fortune with me in my pocket, vigilantly searching for how and where I can apply “moo shoo cereal with duck sauce for breakfast” to my life. Until then, I will continue to practice my Chinese.

我们这里去。