Oh man, lots going on, lots to talk about, but an absence of prioritization to talk about it. So let’s just jump in:
I recently read somewhere an anecdote about a Google interview:
“I’m going to give you five minutes,” he told me. “When I come back, I want you to explain to me something complicated that I don’t already know.” He then rolled out of the room toward the snack area. I looked at Cindy. “He’s very curious about everything,” she told me. “You can talk about a hobby, something technical, whatever you want. Just make sure it’s something you really understand well.”
I thought about that story for days. I told it to my husband, and said “I swear, I’ve been thinking about this for 72 hours, and I have no idea what I would explain if I were in that situation.”
Now, my husband loves the inner workings of things. He’s a thing finder outer type person (that is a play on a Colbert Report bit where he called white Americans “Thing stuff havers” vs “Thing stuff wanters”; after that segment Mike looked pointedly at my shoe collection and goes “honey. You are a thing stuff haver” and I swear, we’re still laughing about it. And since the Colbert Report fills me with joy on any given day, the clip is below, even though it has almost exactly nothing to do with what I’m talking about.
(Embed fail! Click here to watch.) (My complicated thing is not, apparently, how to embed video clips)
Anyway! My husband: a thing finder outer type person. He doesn’t, as a completely hypothetical example in no way reflective of our actual lives, observe that the headlight in the car is out and make motions towards getting it replaced, he wants to know WHY the headlight is out (burned out bulb? Quirky electrical?) and then fix THAT, unlike, say, his wife, who more or less registers that the car is showing less light than previously but then files that away for action at a future time.
Hypothetically, I mean.
Anyway! Mike, without even really thinking, began listing off complicated things that I could explain in that interview scenario:
- Ballistic coefficients and the variables needed to test for long range accuracy at altitude
- Down force and its effect on helicopter lift
- The relationship between cost, weight, and aerodynamics and its impact on F1 regulation and innovation
to which I could only reply “Ok, so that’s… things YOU could explain” and he goes “… oh. Right.” But I’ve got to have something, right? I’m a smart gal, there has to be SOMETHING I would be able to offer, yes?
We got there, eventually. Because of course, I can talk at length about any number of things; the problem is they feel simple to me, not worth filing under “explain something complicated.” That is one of my strengths, this is how I could teach statistics to english majors well and take reams of data and summarize what that data is saying in 5 powerpoint slides: I simplify complicated things.
So what would YOU explain? What’s the thing you know like the back of your hand, but would feel complicated to others?
I’m guessing “explain the plots of CW shows” wouldn’t win me the job, huh? (Though, come now, TVD can get COMPLICATED. I’m looking at you moonstone.)
I don’t know my actual simple complicated thing, but *I’ll* probably think about it for the next 72 hours myself.
Oh, man, this makes me NEVER WANT TO EXPERIENCE ANOTHER INTERVIEW. I remember one interview where I could read upside-down on the interviewer’s sheet that the last question was “Tell me a joke.” I completely froze up, just immediately, just knowing that question was coming. All I could think of was chicken/road.
Another interviewer asked what fast food I would be, if I were a fast food. I wish so hard that I’d said, “That is a ridiculous question.” Or that I’d done something like what Meryl Streep would have done: look around in amusement, then back at the interviewer with eloquent eyebrows, as if to say “Are you SERIOUS, young man?” without actually saying it.
Where was I? Oh yes. Something complicated.
Well, and how would the interviewee know what the interviewer didn’t know? This is a ridiculous question. I can just tell it’s going to obsess me for days. (Just as I am still, more than 15 years later, trying to think what joke I could have told.)
To be fair, it wasn’t downforce and it’s effect, it was “vortex ring state”. Related, but different concepts. More importantly, should you notice the immense difference in light output on the Jeep, it’s not magic, it’s the new LED headlights I installed and they are amazing! (Just not as amazing as your thing-stuff-having shoe collection)
Liz, i’m sure you could explain:
1. the complex relationships that intersect in the first 2 seasons of Buffy.
2. the ideal heart rate levels different athletes should aspire to hit based on their various goals (distance, weight loss, etc.).
3. there has to be something going on in the West Wing that you know about.
4. You seem to know a lot of information about the influence of public libraries on a local community. Speaking of which, this is really cool: http://contentviewer.adobe.com/s/Wired/5857345fd35d4d1f9a1f00273013f68a/WI0914_10_Folio/3070_2209AP_thompson.html#page_0
And more. There’s lots of useless knowledge up there 🙂
I’d get stuck on this because I internalize “complicated” to mean “technical” and then I’m just shit out of luck. And THEN my smart ass side is like, well, he’s a dude and I’m a lady and dude’s seem to think ALL KINDS of things we women easily know are complicated, so let’s go with that. But then I would think, wait, I want this job. Shit. Uh. Let’s talk about….umm…what was the question again?
Ooooh I love this. I’d do something sciencey… drug pharmacokinetics is the most obvious, probably, but maybe I’d pick something a little more flashy, like breeding practices of common farm animals. Artificial vaginas! Swirly pig wangs! Attenuation of bull ejaculate, and the economics thereof! That’d be a pretty poor choice though, considering it’s been 10 years since I studied it closely. So yeah, pharm/tox something or other.
Simplifying complicated things is my guiding principle for scientific presentations, though. Somewhere along the way, I started pretending every presentation was for my mom, or my college BFF the art student. It’s worked super well for me. I still get worried when I see a wildly technical presentation that goes straight over my head – what if I’m just stupid? what if I’m the only one in the room who didn’t keep up with that? – but whenever I’ve actually plucked up the courage to ask other folks what the hell it all meant, I *usually* find that they were also lost.
Oh, man. I think I’d ramble on about meal planning, or one of the fundamental aspects of being a wife/mom. It’s what I know, and it’s simple/complicated. I would proooooobably not get the job based on that knowledge though.
Unfortunately, I could discuss at length the dysfunctional relationship of any franchise of the Real Housewives as well as give historical information for why their current relationship woes exist.
Or stuff about Iris’ feeding complications and explaining all that went into it and why. Or about how certain cuts of dresses fit better on certain womanly shapes.
All of which feel dumb, but yeah.
Or some library stuff.