The interview

Last night I dreamt I was facing a job interview. A tough, no punches pulled, "bizarre, new world" job interview. Now most people who have a faint idea of who I am and what I've done so far with my life, will be quaintly amused with the absurdity of the notion. The last proper job interview I attended was in the wee early nineties, when people were still sending telegrams, and the blogger and the fan reunion was more than just a motion away. In recent years, whenever I'd gone to discuss an opening with some prospective employers, they seemed to have a fair knowledge of the archetypal me. They never ask me about my strengths and weaknesses, or, why did I think my skills would be a good fit for the job. They know, to the exact decimal point, what I was capable of not doing, by dint of my sizable experience in not doing anything in the capacity of a technical manager in a behemoth organization. And whenever the subject of dope would be broached, lots of rolled up eyes and muted laughter on their part at the remunerations I'd require. As a rule, these discussions tend to culminate in perfectly amicable disagreement over the issue of moolah alone.

But this being the season of cross-voters and cross-dreamers, what should I dream of but this, a bizarre, tough, new world job interview. Say your howdys to Anita Bruzzese. Her idea of such a interview questionnaire is like

• If you could be any character in fiction, whom would you select?
• If Hollywood made a movie about your life, who would you like to see playing the lead role?
• If someone wrote a biography about you, what do you think the title should be?
• If you could compare yourself to any animal, which would it be and why?
• If you were a salad, what dressing would you be?

She has a theory it brings out grace under pressure. That there are no right answers, only the manner you respond which is analyzed. Surely they would have a manual for this. Y'know, the shallow drifter sort for thousand island, the power exec for blue cheese, and likewise? Set me thinking, and I pondered over it for long before dinner. Then I had this dream.

They were interviewing me for some job. Oddly, they were asking me personal questions. Oddly again, the interviewers were all pretty young women in their 20's. I know, men will be men, and one is allowed such liberties while dreaming.

If you were a cocktail, which one would you be?
If you are an MP who has cross voted, which party you'd rather be from, and why?
If you could marry a celebrity, whose husband would you be?
You suspect your boss is a closet gay. What color clothes would you wear to office on a Friday?
You're the leader of this terrorist outfit that is into serial blasts. Which city will you do after Bengaloor and Ahmedabad?

The second one was a sitter. I blurted BJP even before she finished. The fourth one I'd cross check with Mr. Shenoy. Apparently he's done some research in the area. The last one was not a happy question. I was in no mood to answer.