I've applied for a lot of jobs since I've been in Australia. Ten, in fact. I've had a couple of interviews and a lot of rejection. As a writer living in Canberra, many of the positions I'm applying for involve working in government departments. To work for the government, it is preferred if you are an Australian citizen. I'm not.
There are interviews, and there are endurance tests. I quite like the interviews where you sit and chat and exchange views and you tell them what you want and they tell you what they want and it's soon pretty clear whether that's going to work. They're fine. And then there are the interviews with human resources. They are generally accompanied by a clipboard, a check-list and a load of clichéd questions to which you are expected to parrot text-book answers. I hate these.
This latter type encourages dishonesty from the start. The true reason you want to work for them is because you need the money. You know that; they know that, but are you going to admit it? Unlikely. Nor are you going to tell them you sulk when you don't get your own way or you handle conflict by pulling faces at your adversary behind their back. So why do they bother asking?
The question I dread most is the one about your biggest weakness. The usual answer is some guff about being a perfectionist, having high standards, putting pressure on self to complete task ahead of schedule, blah blah blah... All sorts of thoughts flash through my mind - none of which I would ever supply in a serious situation. But I am so tempted to offer one of the following:
5 Responses to the interview question 'What is your Biggest Weakness?'
- Bad timekeeping - I hate getting up in the morning and I'm rarely punctual
- I like to bitch and gossip about other staff, particularly if I can set people against each other and upset morale for my own amusement
- I take credit for others' successes and am very quick to apportion blame to cover my arse
- Insufficent standards of personal hygiene
- Alcohol
I have been at my current job for six months now, which means that it is time to fit me into the ‘capability matrix’. This futuristic-sounding vortex of dysfunction is, apparently, an ‘integral part of the overall human resources toolkit’.
Its purpose is to ‘identify areas of individual development’ and also to ‘prioritise our investment in training and development’. So far; so woolly. Of course, what we really want to know is how much we’ll get paid.
The idea is that each staff member sits down with their manager and goes through their nine page document saying why they think they’re wonderful and the manager says why they think they’re not, and it’s just a big tug o’ war of personal skills until someone gives up and looses the will to live.
I had the initial meeting with my (admittedly very nice, and not steeped in the corporate mire) manager this week. Six pages, two hours and a couple of strong long blacks later, we had still not finished our ‘performance objectives discussion’, so we must schedule a time to complete this. In the meantime I am floating in virtual limbo-land without a placement on the wherewithal template.
I had told my husband that I was undergoing this procedure, and on the way home he asked, ‘So, are you capable then?’ I told him I was only half capable and that this meant he would have to cook dinner. So far, he has made me pork fillet on potato rosti with apple and red onion chutney; tangy soy mushrooms with soba noodles; spicy cauliflower with chilli and Indian potato curry. I wonder how long I can keep this going…
