So after I spent a few pleasant hours doing psychometric testing for this job I’m after, they called me back and said that their psychologist wants to see me. For an hour. He, or perhaps she, is only in two days a week, so I have to wait until next week to get the detailed explanation. Agog, once again.
You know the feeling when you realise, only too late, how awful some situation might have been, had not the fates intervened? I remember getting it once after getting back from Brisbane, where I’d been for a week or two doing some training. I had been walking to the studio and had stepped out to cross a one-way street when a taxi, going the other way (note well: he was going the wrong way), drove over my foot. It was the tyre marks on my shoe that gave me pause. But only when I got home. I was over it by then, of course, but there it was: my tibia had avoided a taxi by a matter of less than an inch.
Well, I had the same kind of feeling after getting home from this here psychometric test. During the first section, a thirty-minute intelligence quizzo, there were a few questions next to which I put a tiny dot, that I might go back and make sure. The one that gave me the most trouble went something like this:
One of these words is not like the others! One of these words just doesn’t belong!
A. Steal. B. Cheat. C. Extort. D. Sell. E. Loot.
I had another look at it, quizzled my face all up to one side, and then thought, “Aha! Selling, it is not morally wrong!” and put D. However, this took me a moment or two. Should I worry?