The lazy commuter

After almost a week on the new job, I have quickly mastered the train and subway systems on my way to and from work, "mastery" being measured by the fact that I have not yet gotten on a vehicle going in the wrong direction. But give me time.


I have settled into a familiar, if not yet comfortable, routine, consisting of the following alternating states: freezing, thawing, freezing, thawing, freezing, thawing, etc. The freezing state occurs while dashing to and from -- or waiting for -- various modes of transportation, car, train, subway, camel caravan, etc. The thawing state, which mysteriously lasts a much shorter time than the freezing state, occurs during the last 20 seconds of time spent on one of the various modes of transportation, and then it is time to freeze again.


My new co-workers are disturbed by my long commute and the many transfer points it involves. They helpfully suggest other methods of getting to work, some of which involve more walking, which I strenuously object to on the grounds that I am lazy.


But, they suggest, in the warmer weather a longer walk in the beautiful outdoors wouldn't be a bad thing. They have a point: Instead of alternating between freezing and thawing states, I would have just one constant state: sweating.


Some people enjoy a brisk walk, and why not? Their skin sparkles with a healthy glow, and they feel energized and ready to take on the day. When I briskly walk -- say, from the refrigerator to the kitchen table -- all color drains from other parts of my face and congregates in my nose, giving me a striking resemblance to a certain famous reindeer. I feel ready to take on a nap.


So no, more walking during my commute is not for me. Now a chair sedan, that would be perfect. Wonder if my commuter vouchers would cover one of those...

The Princess and the new job

The Princess begs forgiveness for the lack of blog posts this week. She has been consumed with her new job, mainly with the part where she must get on, or off, a certain train or subway in order to avoid ending up someplace where her job or home is not located, like Pensacola, or Reykjavik. This has not been easy, nor has keeping track of the various tickets and passes required for entry into these vehicles and her workplace. The Hero is waiting to be violently awakened some night by the Princess yelling, "AGGGGHHHH! I AM SUPPOSED TO BE ON THAT TRAIN!" or "I LOST MY PARKING PASS! OR MAYBE MY WORK ID! OR MAYBE MY SUBWAY PASS!"


Clearly, one thing she IS losing is her mind. When it returns, so will the blog.

Dad's prescription for aging

"I don't understand why I have all these aches and pains," my father said recently.


He is 88.


My mother hazarded a wild guess. "Age, maybe?" 


He thought about this. "Nah, it can't be all age," he said.


"It's age," she said.


My father has attained this venerable age through a lifetime of careful eating. He is careful to never eat anything lowfat or low sodium, and sticks strictly to foods like salami, bologna, full-sodium soup, chips, pretzels, and Lucky Charms. 


Anything more healthy, such as turkey, is treated with suspicion. "Yuck," he says when my mother tries to encourage him to eat a turkey sandwich.


For a while he had to eat more healthy, due to some eating difficulties, and the diet just about did him in. 


"Your mother took away my salami," he would grouse when I talked to him on the phone.


Once when my sister was visiting during this enforced diet, my father took her aside and asked, in a loud whisper, if she would go to the grocery store to get him some things.


"Didn't Mom just go?" she said.


"Yeah, but she never gets what I tell her to," he said.


So she collected his list, which included "a couple pounds of salami," went to the store, and came back with, among other things, lowfat turkey.


"Would you believe they were out of salami?" she said with a straight face.


Clearly he could not trust her to be on his side.


Eventually my father's diet almost did my mother in, too, and slowly the salami, and other prohibited foods, made a regular reappearance in the house.


"He's more pleasant to live with when he eats what he wants," she said.


And why shouldn't he eat what he wants? He is 88. There should be some reward for having reached that age.


Now, if he could just figure out why he has all those aches and pains...

She of the red ink

Many people, specifically writers, theoretically appreciate what editors do, but in practice, wish they would go edit someone else's work and leave theirs alone. This includes one of my former co-workers, who, I am sure, secretly harbors thoughts of permanently rubbing us all out with an erasable red pen. 


Because of our fondness for using a great deal of red ink on his writing, and because all the editors happened to be female, this former co-worker dubbed us the Red Ink Sisterhood. This name was used with great affection, in the sense one would affectionately call a pack of wolves the Cuddly Doggies. No doubt he privately thought of us as the Red Ink Terrorists. Even after we had long abandoned red pens and pencils in our editing, we were still "the Sisterhood."


When I landed my new position recently, this individual was concerned that I might not be adequately prepared for my new duties. He therefore sent me a care package consisting of a box of red pens and red pencils for my future Sisterhood work, along with a congratulatory letter typed in red ink. A portion of the letter is reprinted here, with some editorializing in brackets so that you can understand the depth of emotion behind the words:


Dear H.B. [Member of the Dreaded Sisterhood]:


Enclosed please find a fresh supply of the "Editor's Favorite Tools" [chainsaws]. I thought you might put them to good use as you get yourself situated in your new job [tear up unsuspecting authors' manuscripts]. Perhaps you can start a new chapter of the Sisterhood [and terrorize new writers]. After all, you were a member in good standing here [reduced my 80,000-word masterpieces to sound bites].


Ha ha! Of course I mean you do good work [should be sent to prison with no chance for parole]. 


Best,
C.S. [Individual Against Editors]


Naturally I promptly sent a thank-you to show my appreciation for his thoughtfulness:


Dear C.S. [Individual Who Harbors Thoughts of Ill Will Toward Me]:


Thank you so much for your thoughtful gift of the "Editor's Favorite Tool" [chainsaws]. I'm sure the pens and pencils will come in very handy at my new job as I seek to publish the best books in the field [tear up authors' hard work]. 


I shall endeavor to establish a new chapter of the Sisterhood that will make us all proud [strike fear into the hearts of authors]. However, we may need to come up with a new name [and a special incantation], as we are not all female in the new group. Perhaps we could be the Red Ink Sister- and Brotherhood? the Red Ink Siblings? Equal Opportunity Sisters and Brothers? the Gender-Neutral 'Hood? [the Editors?].


The pens and pencils will occupy a place of honor on my new desk [minus the pencils that the Hero has already appropriated for his own devices]. I appreciate your kindness [thinly veiled sarcasm]. I always enjoyed working with you [tearing up your writing]. Best of luck!

Sincerely,
H.B. [A Sister in Good Standing]


If ever there is a bill put forth in Congress to outlaw editors, I will know who is behind it.

The bunny and the birds and bees

At a relative's house a tale as old as time is unfolding, starring their female bunny in a cage, a free-range male bunny residing next door, and three curious little persons.


The free-range male was living a good bachelor's life, coming and going at will at the neighbor's house, eating out of neighboring gardens, avoiding Mr. MacGregor, etc. One day he happened upon a female bunny in a cage in the relative's garage, and was instantly smitten. 


The relative, taking advantage of the young male's smitten state, introduced him into the cage with the female, and a whirlwind bunny romance ensued.


Little persons in the household were delighted to know that baby bunnies might be forthcoming. One suggested that the babies could be given out as favors at her upcoming birthday party, which the mother knew would be considered an act of sabotage among all the other parents, and pretty much doom their popularity in the group.


"Maybe we should just ask if anyone wants one," she suggested.


The curious little persons also wanted to know how this potential situation of baby bunnies had come about, and what the rabbits were doing there in the cage. They received an education in the birds and the bees, as it pertained to bunnies, and also to humans, the mother stressing that humans should be much, much older than the little persons' current age, and married, before engaging in similar behavior.


One little person was horrified at the implications for the rabbit. "My bunny's living in sin!" she wailed. "Mom, they have to get married!"


And so wedding preparations are afoot for the two rabbits, although the preacher detail still needs to be settled. If you know of a bunny-licensed preacher in Pennsylvania, please let us know. Payment is no problem. There should be plenty of baby bunnies.

Belt 101

I thought I needed a whole new wardrobe for my new job, but it turns out all I really needed was a new belt.


The belt came about as a result of an impromptu Belt 101: Intro to Wearing Belts at Places Other than Your Pant Loops class at The Limited store, where a most helpful young saleswoman introduced me to the art of arranging a belt around one's sweater. This art, like most involving fashion, has always eluded me, necessitating the Belt 101 class.


The saleswoman was delightfully fluent in using belts not only to accent an outfit, but also as camouflage. If you want to hide some part of your person, she said -- and who doesn't? she said -- put a belt around it. If you want to shift some part of your person to another area where it does not by nature reside, place the belt in a strategic location. She knew all the strategic locations.


She spoke so confidently that she made me confident that I could do this, even though prior experience suggested otherwise. I took my belt and my top into the dressing room and followed her instructions as best I remembered. The result resembled a sack of potatoes being strangled.


"I think I need help," I said.


The first belt was too big, she declared. Thank goodness, it wasn't just me.


With the second belt she fussed and pulled and finally declared me fit to go out into public. I noted to my friend that it had taken a very long time to arrange myself in this outfit, and I still needed help.


"You're new at this," she said comfortingly. "It'll get easier."


If not, I will have a good excuse for being late to work. "Sorry I'm late," I will say to my new boss. "I was putting my belt on."


I retreated into the dressing room to try more clothes on, and eventually the saleswoman expressed concern at my lengthy stay there.


"You're not second-guessing, are you?" she called.


I assured her I was merely trying on other items, and in a voice that indicated I had better be telling the truth, she called back, "Good. Cuz I thought we had an agreement that it looked wonderful."


Of course, she said, I would want to get The Limited credit card, with rewards and points and 15% off my first purchase and various other perks, which I was disappointed to learn did not include her personally coming to my home whenever I wanted to wear the belt and arranging it for me.


So I guess I'll be on my own when I take the final exam for Belt 101. If you see a strangled sack of potatoes walking down the street, please say hi. And please say you like the belt.

In case of a potential accident

The Hero heartily endorses the Princess Early Warning System (PEWS), which operates in his car whenever the Princess happens to be a passenger. This system engages automatically in situations of perceived threats to the car, particularly those that might involve the side where the Princess is sitting. According to the Hero, the PEWS works thus:


1. The Princess detects a potentially dangerous driving event, such as a car attempting to occupy the space already occupied by the Hero's car, or a squirrel crossing the car's path while the car is in park.


2. The Princess begins a series of animated hand gestures resembling Tai Chi, but at much higher speeds.


3. The animated hand gestures are accompanied by great agitation and this series of helpful warning words: "Bump. Bump. BEEEEEEEP!" 


4. The Hero laughs so hard that he nearly causes a secondary accident.


This system was fully engaged recently when it perceived that a car was in danger of backing into the Hero's car in a parking lot. The Princess is sure that PEWS saved them from imminent dismemberment, or at least a ding in the side of the car. The Hero is still trying to figure out the mysterious "Bump. Bump. BEEEEEEEP!" sounds emitted by PEWS. The Princess maintains that this feature is modeled after a similar system on her uncle's car, in which her aunt, spying a dog about to walk in front of their moving car, and meaning to tell the driver to beep at the dog, yelled instead, "Bark at him!"


The Princess Early Warning System does tend to engage in pretty much any situation when another driver (the Hero) is operating the vehicle, which can cause minor annoyances to the driver (the Hero). Perhaps some upgrades to the system are in order. Following step 4 in the process noted above, for instance, step 5 might be added, in which the Princess bops the Hero. This will add nothing to the safety features of the system, but will be quite satisfying.

The basics of job applications

An important part of job searching is filling out a job application form, which, despite its name, you are unlikely to see at the professional level until after you have actually accepted a position. It is not clear why this is so, other than that it has been this way since HR was invented and so shall it ever be. Clearly these forms could use a more appropriate title, although a change of this magnitude may make HR departments uncomfortable, so perhaps we could strike a compromise and call it something like Post-Job Acceptance Job Application Form.


Most application forms have similar features: They were written sometime in the Bronze Age, and have been photocopied so many times that the type is not only faint and difficult to read, not all of it is actually on the form anymore. You will be reading along and see "Please indicate date of," and whatever it is they want the date of has long since fallen off the side of the page.


But job applicants should not let this deceive them into thinking that the information being asked for is not important. Apparently it is very important to employers where you went to grammar school (further proof that the forms were invented in the Bronze Age), because the forms give you as much room to write about grammar school as about any universities you have attended. Further, you are expected to record the subjects you studied in grammar school. Sometimes this information may be difficult to remember, as many of us attended grammar school about the same time these application forms were invented. In case you need some hints about subjects you may have studied back then, answers to this question typically include how to get boys (or girls) to like you, how to be teacher's pet, how to stop being teacher's pet, and how to survive dodge ball in P.E. class with all your body parts intact.


Sometimes there is a section on the job application form for the applicant to list his or her special skills. This is a chance to showcase any particular talents that may set the applicant apart from the competition, although as we have already stated these forms are generally filled out after accepting a job offer, so these skills may not be all that helpful in this regard. Some applicants may have difficulty coming up with special skills that are applicable to the job situation, so here are some examples: surviving dodge ball with all my body parts intact, appropriating fellow employees' lunches, and giving full attention to my work with my eyes closed and while snoring.


Employers also want to know your employment history on these forms, although this information generally also appears on your resume. This gives support to the suspicion many job seekers have, which is that no one actually reads resumes. But I digress.


In the employment history section of a job application, you should give the employer some idea of what your past jobs entailed. A good job description, therefore, may be something like Brownie and Bonbon Connoisseur. In the job task column for this position, you might write something helpful such as Duh.


Another very important section on the form is the Emergency Contact section. Having an emergency contact will help your employer quickly contact a responsible party in the event something untoward happens to you while at work. For this reason, the application always asks for this individual's address, as in their street address. Presumably in an emergency an employer will thoughtfully compose an urgent letter and deposit it into the care of the postal system, whence it will be speedily delivered just as soon as they get around to it. In my case, for example, such a letter might include the following: Dear Hero, Your wife has suffered minor injuries due to an unfortunate incident with a stapler. We have administered chocolate, but we think she needs more advanced medical attention. Please advise. Yours truly, etc.


That about wraps up the job application form, other than your signature, which will be scientifically analyzed for clues to your personality, trustworthiness, ability to sustain life for days while your emergency contact is contacted, etc. If you have any further questions about the job application form, be sure to contact your nearest HR department at (123) 365-7 


(Our apologies, the form ran out of room.)

The Princess lands a job

Through no fault of her own the Princess has landed a job, actually a very nice job, at which she is still rather surprised. She did not make the decision lightly, and asked many important questions beforehand, such as questions about responsibilities, evaluations, and whether the staff has fun, cake, parties, etc. She accepted only after being assured that not only does the staff have fun, there is in fact a person in charge of fun, and there are rumors of cake making a frequent appearance. The important matters settled to her satisfaction, the Princess graciously accepted the organization's offer ("Yes! Hire me! Hire me!").


The Hero is relieved that her world will be a little bit bigger now that she will be out of the house more, and that she may have more to talk about at home than little old ladies at the grocery store getting in her way with their carts. Now she can talk about things of greater import, such as people shoving and pushing on the subway.


The Princess's hair stylist, hearing that the Princess will now be working in the big city, insisted upon giving her a spunky haircut. Several hours later -- which included a nap on the Princess's part -- she proclaimed that the Princess was now fit to hobnob among other spunky-haired workers in the city. Although the Hero was unaware of the monumental effort to ready his Princess, he nevertheless expressed his appreciation by saying, "What happened to your hair?"


While the organization readies paperwork and checks to see that the Princess has not made up her college degrees or her time at various colleges -- this slightly amuses her, as she definitely did not make up all those hours of studying -- other preparations are in progress. One of these is necessary trips to the mall for a new wardrobe. The Hero will most likely not accompany the Princess on these trips, having already exceeded his once-every-five-years visit to the mall.


"You should go anyway," the Princess urged. "The other husbands need someone to talk to."


The Hero declined this call to duty, evidently feeling no responsibility toward his fellow sufferers at the mall. Luckily, the Princess has a supportive network of females who will gather around her in her hour of need. Okay, so maybe it is just a supportive network of one. But fortunately, that's all she needs.

A weight has been lifted...but not as much as you think

Against my better judgment, I made a trip to the local Y the other day to work out. I logged in with some trepidation to the all-knowing system that records your workout activity.


"Our records show that it has been...17 years since your last visit," it said.


What was this, some kind of dog-year thing?


"For every week you do not work out," it scolded, "you lose .2 pounds of muscle. By our account you have lost...uh, let's see...all of your muscle mass now."


This explains a lot. It explains why, although the system said that I was supposed to be lifting, say, 40 pounds on the overhead shoulder press, I was only able to lift, um, less than that. However, I discovered that it is possible to deceive the system about how much weight you are actually lifting. Let's say your target is 180 pounds, and instead you lift only 5 (which of course you would never do).


"Congratulations!" the screen says. "You have met your target."


So if there is any loss of muscle mass going on here, I  am not completely to blame.


After meeting my goal of 180 (ahem) pounds on the machines, I tried the treadmill. The treadmill and I took some time to come to an understanding. I figured I should start out at a leisurely pace (just above sleepwalking) so as not to overdo things, since according to the system I had not done this in 17 years. The treadmill evidently failed to recognize my serious intentions, because it stopped several times without warning.


"What's this?" it said. "Is there a fly on me? Get moving!" 


Luckily I was moving at that nice leisurely pace, because if I had been moving any faster, I might have ended up across the room when it quit on me.


When I checked out of the system at the end, it announced that I had lifted 1,076 pounds that session. The next day my arms ached. I plan to heed experts' advice, and listen to my body. My body is saying I definitely should not go back.

The Princess and Hero go shopping

Occasionally the Hero expresses a need to go shopping at the nearby mall; this sometimes occurs as often as every five years or so. There was a little aberration in this schedule around Christmastime last year, when a dead car battery necessitated a trip to Sears, and almost an entire afternoon was spent in the mall while waiting for the car to be ready. In the Hero's opinion, this is exactly the sort of cataclysmic event that should be covered in The Complete Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook.

Like many men, the Hero has a detailed list of what he is looking for when he goes to the mall. On this trip, the list looked like this: 

dress shoes size 9 1/2, cool glasses

When the Princess goes to the mall, she also has a list, which generally looks something like this:

stuff to wear, stuff for the house, stuff on sale, stuff not on sale but which might go on sale in the near future, stuff I might need but don't know it yet, stuff I don't need but might as well buy anyway

You can see that the Hero's list is optimized for speed, while the Princess's list is optimized for spending money. This sometimes presents a problem when they shop together, as the Princess is genetically unable to shop in a speedy manner, and spending money has been known to cause a severe allergic reaction in the Hero.

On this trip the Princess and Hero also had an item on their joint list: refrigerator. Appliances generally require a little more shopping time, because of the expense and also because the Hero firmly believes in asking plenty of questions of the salesperson ("Why is this refrigerator so much more?" "Do you work on commission?" "How would you get a 9x13 container of cookies in this tiny freezer?"). During this grilling the Princess usually wanders off, pretending she does not know the Hero and feigning great interest in the vacuum cleaners on display.

But this time the appliance business was conducted with surprising speed, mainly because the  Princess and Hero had forgotten to take measurements of their old refrigerator, and therefore deciding on a new one was pretty well a useless exercise. This did not prevent the salesperson, however, from being grilled. (Although one salesperson did escape grilling by virtue of being very young and, in the Hero's view, probably not terribly interested in, or knowledgeable about, refrigerators.)

In fact it turned out to be Grill a Salesperson Day everywhere the Hero and Princess went. The shoe salesperson was persuaded to give a complete history of leather as a component of shoes, as well as its proper use and care. At Pearle Vision two salespersons split the task of handling the Hero's questions about glasses, the first claiming after some time that she "had to leave now." The Hero received a primer in polarized lenses, progressive lenses, bendable frames, titanium frames, plastic frames, frames with curlicues, lenses without frames, frames without lenses, etc.

The Hero's purchases completed, they speedily exited the mall. The Hero does regret that he did not go with the "glasses in about an hour" store, necessitating another visit to the mall within 10 days to pick up his new glasses. Throw in another visit back to the refrigerator display, and the Princess expects that he will not be due to visit the mall again for roughly 17 years.

Which means she has plenty of time to shop for the items on her list.

An epic journey ahead

Today the Princess embarks on a journey to a job interview. The interview itself is not nearly so worrisome to the Princess as getting there, which will involve an epic journey that will take her by car, train, subway, camel, yak, Big Wheel, and possibly an ice cream cart. With any luck it will also take her right by a Starbucks. But she must listen carefully as all her stops are announced, or she may end up someplace unintended, like Beijing. It almost happened once. Those darn camels!

Needed reform

There are a lot of issues in government today, what with deep divisions over health care, a looming shutdown, lawmakers hiding out in states they do not belong in to avoid voting in the state they do belong in, etc. But personally, I think we are all missing the really important issue. I strongly believe that we need a thoughtful, rational, bipartisan discussion about the state of toasters today.

The modern toaster was invented in 1893, or 1909 if you prefer that date, and has remained virtually unchanged since then, in the sense that it doesn't really toast your bread. The first toasters worked in the following manner, and I quote:

"It only toasted one side of the bread at a time, and it required a person to stand by and turn it off manually when the toast looked done."

Has anything changed? Five hundred years from now, someone might say the following about modern toasters, including mine:

"It only toasted one side of the bread at a time, and it required a person to stand by and turn the toast around to get the other side browned. The person continued to stand by and turn off the toaster manually so as not to burn the toast."

It is true that many helpful features have been added to toasters since they were first invented, such as the automatic pop-up (invented in 1919), which promised great advances in the art of toasting. Unfortunately the timing of the pop-up was -- and still is, on my toaster -- completely unrelated to the doneness of the toast, and early consumers finally gave up on figuring out when the toast was actually done and continued to rely heavily on their family dog to notify them of this important event.

Later, settings were added to toasters so consumers could more precisely toast their bread. The numbers went something like this:

1: still bread

2: still bread

3: BWEEP! BWEEP! BWEEP! Your toast has been reduced to cancer-causing carbon! We must shut down your toaster immediately!

Following years of this dismal performance, scientists worked hard to improve this function on toasters, tweaking mysterious coils and wires inside the toasters and adding more settings to allow consumers to further refine their toast. This determined effort paid off with the following results:

1: still bread

2: still bread

3-69: BWEEP! BWEEP! BWEEP! Your toast has been reduced to cancer-causing carbon! We must shut down your toaster immediately!

Even the little crumb tray in the bottom of toasters (added to toasters possibly on a Tuesday in 1948 or 1949, although this is not certain) has not been helpful, mainly because of the Law of Crumb Distribution. This law is also in evidence when you place a napkin on your lap and at the end of a meal find that there are crumbs everywhere on your lap, but the napkin is completely crumb free. Despite humankind's vast intelligence and ingenuity, there is just no governing of crumbs and where they land.

Nor are theses complaints limited to low-end toasters. A very expensive toaster lives at a relative's house, and though I do not know whether it actually performs the amazing feat of toasting both sides of the bread at the same time, I do know that when your toast is ready in this particular toaster, it does not pop up. Even for $200, you still must monitor the appliance to see if your toast is ready. Ostensibly this feature is to keep your toast warmer, but if this is true then perhaps the manufacturer should include some sort of signal so you know that it's ready. Something along the lines of a deep butler-ish voice saying, "Your perfectly browned, slightly crunchy toast is ready at your convenience, madam."

So I really think we need the government to put aside all these little petty issues it is dealing with, and give some concentrated thought to fixing the deplorable state of toasters today. Dialogue might go something like this:

One side: What we need is a committee to investigate this. No, a department. No, a departmental committee. Well, maybe we need a bailout of toaster manufacturers.

Other side: Let's give all toaster users a tax break! But only on toasters over $1,350.


I say we organize a Million Toaster March and let Congress know we want toaster reform. Now. Or as soon as our toast is done.

Tips for miscommunication

Note: This note has little or nothing to do with today's post, but sometimes public service announcements must be made. Due to an incident yesterday, the Hero is forthwith banned from any contact with bubble wrap. Without giving too many details, let us just say that if any entities -- the government comes to mind -- are interested in investigating new forms of "coercion," they would do well to hire the Hero and sixteen rolls of bubble wrap.


Companies interviewing candidates for employment are naturally interested in knowing how you, a prospective employee, communicate and get along with fellow workers. Following are several sample questions you might be asked:


1. Which of the following best describes your highest level of communication with others in a work situation?
a. I make every effort to communicate with high verbosity in every work situation.
b. When asked, I might say something of little consequence to the task at hand.
c. I have not communicated verbally with others in a work situation.


2. If you answered c to #1, how HAVE you communicated with others in a work situation? (Check all that apply.)
a. grunts
b. smoke signals
c. exchanging spit wads
d. tossing rocks with notes attached
e. leaving notes in the restroom stalls ("Stop taking my lunch, you moron!")


3. What type of management style do you prefer to work under?
a. collaborative
b. nosy
c. benign neglect
d. Do I have to work under a manager? Can't I just, like, work totally unsupervised, like, at home every day by myself?


4. Describe an occasion when you took extra effort to make sure a co-worker had understood what you said. How did you do this?
a. I focused all my attention on him, spoke slowly and clearly, and waited until I received confirmation that he was with me before moving on.
b. I asked him to repeat what I had said.
c. I whapped him on the side of the head.

5. What must be true about an organization's communication in order for you to work most effectively?

a. Everyone must be committed to sharing what is going on with their action updates.

b. Everyone must respect others' verbal contributions.

c. I prefer that no one talk to me. Ever.

6. If you answered c to #5, what if there's cake in the break room?

a. Okay, THEN they can talk to me.

Naturally some of these answers are more acceptable than others to the majority of employers. However, don't expect US to tell you which ones are which. Just be warned -- if you don't choose the correct answers, well, you don't want us sending the Hero and his bubble wrap after you...