A Mouse Click Too Far
Went for another job interview this arvo. Wasn't actually any kind of interview I've ever had though. Firstly, there was the inevitable call on the recruitment agency to sign their legal disclaimers, under the guise of asking "...and just what sort of position do you really get satisfaction out of?" As if the guy actually cares a fig. I know damn well they don't, but when you're looking for work, these leeches have the marketplace in their palms to an enormous degree. Like everything else in business today, it's all about money. Not about the individual who wants a satisfying position which pays well enough and brings about that warm inner glow from a job well done.
Anyway, after twenty minutes there and a few vacuous questions later, I headed off across the CBD to what I presumed would be a meeting with a person or persons at the employer in question. Didn't take long, as it was less than three blocks away. First floor, asked for the lady I was referred to and was shown into a small room with a computer on a desk. "Just complete you name, date of birth and address details and click through to the test after it. Let me know when you're finished and I'll get *insert referred name here* to see you" Hmmm.....okay then. I 'd been advised that a psyche test was the order of the day, but this was the receptionist I was dealing with.
The psyche test consisted of a set of twelve screens which presented a 'which shape comes next' attention-to-detail quiz. Walk in the park, to be frank. Then a set of some thirty odd questions about life, the Universe and everything, apparently designed to categorically pidgeon-hole the contestant in the blink of an eye. I've done these things before, and found that if you answer them based on your initial reaction to the question, you're showing the real you. Supposedly. No point in trying to second-guess this stuff, as it's formulated by brain-boxes you and I would never manage to relate to on any level, who believe they know the human psyche intimately and habitually analyse their spouses, cats, dogs and pet birds. Few of them manage to remain married because of this habit, cats are always a challenge, dogs don't really care who you think you are as long as they get a pat and birds are caged anyway, so that makes them easy meat.
I completed the whole shooting match in less than 15 minutes, advised the receptionist, who, true to her word, called *insert referred name here* to come collect me. So I thought. Out from the nether regions of this office comes a brilliantly smiling, diminutive young woman who proffers her hand, surprisingly firmly for a woman, and proceeds to tell me how 'nice' (how I HATE that word) it is to meet me and that the test results would be available to her and the agency in about two hours. Thanks so much for coming in, and bye-bye! I was slightly caught off guard, but quickly regathered my senses, thanked her for her time and pressed the elevator call button as I watched her receding back disappear back into the office's nether regions.
Suffice to say, by the time I walked back to Central Station, caught the next train and made it back to my car, - a journey all of 50 minutes from go to whoa - the test results were in. I called the guy at the agency, and "they won't be proceeding at this time, but head up! We'll be putting a greater focus on your position over the next few days." Yeh, I'll just bet you will. How impersonal is it when a computer-based quiz decides your suitability for a job you've been doing all your life? Anyway, I'm reasonably immune to such things lately, and have another face-to-face interview with an employer directly tomorrow morning. I much prefer that style of analysis. People know people. Machines can't read eyes, facial expressions and body language.
