"So, Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?"

I once had a friend, years ago, who told me she never had to go to an interview in her entire life. She inherited a ass-load of money from her grandmother, bought a gym, sold it, and now dabbles in real estate. Never worked for anyone but herself, if you can say she ever really worked a day in her life. She was - and probably still is - oblivious as to what an honest day's work actually feels like. And to not know how to go through an interview, well, that's one of those teeth-gritting rituals the rest of us love when it's over - sort of like visiting that one crazy aunt who loves gossip, watches cheesy talk shows and wears a lethal amount of cheap, flowery perfume.

Everyone remembers when they went on their first interviews after finishing whatever level of schooling they completed. Guys in ties borrowed from dad sitting uneasily in generic waiting room chairs, Adam's apples bobbing up and down like a possessed super ball; young women in their one dark business suit they received as a graduation present, hair as conservatively pressed as necessary, practicing to themselves over and over about how they want to be "a team player" and anxious to express their plans to eventually get their Master's degree.

I remember when I went on my first "serious" interviews. It wasn't like those knucklehead summer jobs where the questions went something like:

Manager: "So, do you do drugs?"

Applicant (lying): "No, sir"

Manager: "Are you sure?"

Applicant (still lying): "Yes, sir"

Manager: "Can you handle a mop? Can you work weekends? Can you get here on time? Are you planning on leaving at the end of the summer? Are you willing to be humiliated by me every day?"

Applicant (to self): (Man, I wish I had some drugs right now)

Back then, all you really cared about was getting enough money for gas, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and maybe a dime bag of reefer (back when you could still buy a dime bag). Life was all about the weekend, who was having a party when their parents went away and finding creative ways to call in sick when you partied too much the night before. Today, it's about paying off the credit cards, paying for day care and fighting the urge to break into your 401k to give you some financial breathing room.

I remember some of those early "serious" interviews. I'd be sitting there, whipping out impressive-sounding answers, maintaining eye contact, and always remembering to ask questions at the end - all by the book. What was really going on in my mind was:

"I wonder if there are any hot chicks who work here?"
"The pay here better not suck."
"Man, the receptionist has a great rack."

For some people, holding interviews is an unpleasant little piece of business that takes them out of the rhythm of their day. I've seen some people put off the applicant so they could finish their lunch so their soup doesn't get that awful "skin" on the top. I've seen others hold off an interview so they can finish giving little kissy noises on the phone to their a) partner, b) children, c) dog. Then, they bring the applicant in and promptly eviscerate them.

And don't you just love the assembly line questions you get? It's like the interviewer puts absolutely no effort into the process - kind of like my writing. Stop me if you've heard these before. I added some suggested responses:

"What would you say is your biggest weakness?" ("Falling asleep in the bathroom stall so that I have toilet paper holder marks on my face, cruising the Internet for dirty jokes, borderline sexual harassment")

"What's the difference between the words "Manager" and "Leader"? (The spelling)

"Where do you want to be in five years?" (Setting you on fire and throwing you off the roof of the building and then river-dancing on your parking space)

It's nice to be the person interviewing the applicants, but it's a shame you can't say what you REALLY want to say; something along the lines of "This is the worst resume I've ever seen" or "You're pissing me off. Just say you don't know the answer or I'm going to put your head through the wall." Usually, you have a pretty good idea if that person is a good fit in the first five minutes, but you allow that person the luxury of either talking themselves into or out of an opportunity. Most of the time, the person you hire isn't someone who blows you away as much as someone who doesn't suck as much as the other candidates.

But, no matter how many interviews you conduct, you know that, eventually, you will be sitting on the other side of the desk again and breaking out the same awful answers that you yourself endured so many times before. After each response, you think to yourself sarcastically, "Well, that didn't make me sound TOO much like a horse's ass" or "Yep, that's it. I'm getting drunk tonight." Was it worth it? Was jumping through all those hoops, filling out all those forms and turning your resume into a masterpiece of creative fiction worth all of that when you finally land that job?

Ask me in five years. Apparently, that's where I want to be.