Are you prepared for the dreaded “What’s your greatest weakness?” question? After all, it’s job hunting season, aka job interview time!
Other articles offer great advice on acing that question. This post doesn’t.
I started playing guitar when I was 12. And 23 years later, it’s yet to deliver any of the female attraction I was hoping for. Oh, woe is me!
They got me all excited: Every guitarist raved about their popularity with the opposite sex. As a hormonal middle schooler, I had no confidence to, you know, go up and talk to girls. Guitar would be my rejection-proof way in.
Fast forward through middle school, high school, college, and now into adulthood: I’m waaaay good at guitar now. …
(Or, what improv comedy taught me about writing)
I’m improvising this post. Yup, I have no idea what this post will be about. I just showed up to a blank page and started writing. Here’s the thing:
I don’t know what to write about.
So let’s make this post about that:
What do you do when you don’t know what to write about?
To channel Sully Sullenberger flying that plane onto the Hudson: Hang on folks, I’m gonna try somethin…
Let me save you 2 years and thousands of dollars on improv classes for this first lesson: When drawing a blank, say what’s literally on your mind. …
There are many more of us out there. But you probably sped right by us and didn’t notice.
Or… it’s the opposite:
We “got in your way,” and you certainly noticed us by letting out a disgruntled “Could you walk any slower?” Or if we’re in the crosswalk, a hand-planted-into-car-horn Hooooonk. You made your turn and hurled an expletive through your window.
Unfazed, the proud slow walker keeps walking. Maybe they let out a casual “Where’s the fire?”
Well there was that time an actual fire truck came barreling down the street, sirens blaring. …
Some days I don’t wanna be 34-year-old adult man.
I wanna be 400-month-old baby who just wants his momma.
I been pushed out of comfort zone. Which is both great and really hard.
Month ago, was promoted unexpectedly at work. More responsibilities. But also more EXCITE!
Yes me excited, just like baby excited to take first steps.!!!
But baby no have to deal with: managing people, signing invoices, leading a team and making sure they happy, delegating taksks, making unpopular decisions, having people disagree and question you, and doing it all while somehow taknig care of self too.
And oh my googoogaagaa, so many more meetings! …
We’d open on Dwayne Johnson in an open-air restaurant on a beautiful beach (shot in New Zealand.) We hear an Elvis song in the background (licensed by his estate.) “One Chobani yogurt,” a server (played by Emma Stone) says, placing down a picture-perfect cup of Chobani yogurt on Dwayne’s table.
As he’s about to spoon up some Chobani greek yogurt, Dwayne overhears a news report on the TV behind him. He turns a bit to hear the news anchor talking about a dangerous, escaped sea mutant.
I need to write less. To be more concise with my words. It’s hard: all of my writing — Medium posts, emails, even text messages — skew wordy.
Me? I see no problem with it. I LOVE seeing all those amazing words from my 100% amazing totally non-egotistical mind.
I read someone else’s work this week. Very verbose. Dense. Long sentences. Paragraphs chunkier than a bowl of beef stew.
I was like, “Get to the damn point already! Cut to the chase!”
And then… a whoosh of self-awareness smacked me in the face.
That’s how my writing comes across, doesn’t…
Okay, team meeting!
Gonna need you guys to drop what you’re doing and listen up.
That means you, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
Because I, Monday, your coworker, have something to say.
I was tempted to just do this on our “Days Of The Week” team Slack channel. But, no, this is too important. Gotta be done face to face.
That quiver in my voice is not nervousness. No, my peers. Be not mistaken. It is pride, strength, and courage.
Imma get right to it. I’m done getting shat on. I demand respect. The respect I deserve.
All everyone’s ever done is hate on me, complain about me, put me down, dread me, eye-roll about me, audibly sigh about my existence, draw frowny faces on my calendar box, curse at me… the list goes on. …
I, [your name here], do affirm that you, a fellow patron of this coffee shop, have asked me to “watch your stuff for a sec” while you use the lavatory.
You have chosen me, a brave modern-day knight with a history of watching people’s stuff with zero items lost or taken. You have chosen well.
Thus we hereby enter into the Social Contract Of Stuff-Watching, and I pledge my commitment as such:
I swear to remain vigilant.
I swear to shoot intense glances at anyone coming anywhere near your table.
If a thief does storm in and grabs your stuff, I swear to shout, “Hey! What are you doing?! As Watcher of This Stuff, I recommend you cease!” …