Smart answers to a dumb question...

We've all been asked stupid questions in job interviews, but one I heard recently via a friend was: “Where do you see yourself in five years?”. To which my friend cheekily replied, “Retired”, so they countered with “No, really?” and to which he could only reply once more, “Retired”.

Needless to say the interview went downhill from there.

What a dumb, dumb question. Who knows where anyone of us will be in five days, let alone five years? So if you ever get asked that question, here are some ready responses: 

• Running a cat-walking business to tap into the growing older single-lady demographic.
• Directing Spanish Civil War re-enactments for elderly English tourists on Ibiza.
• Heading a research space station on Alpha Centauri.
• Competing for the grand prize ($200K and the chance to stalk, shoot and eat my rivals) on ‘The Biggest Loser’.
• Married to Kim Kardashian.
• Married to Michelle Bridges.
• Spearheading a new lifestyle movement a la ‘Tiny House’ – I’m thinking ‘The Tiny Skyscraper’, ‘The Tiny A380’ or ‘The Tiny Drawbridge’.
• President of a newly-created nation in Africa, the Pacific, or a former Soviet republic somewhere in Central Asia.
• Hosting my own dating show on primetime television.
• House-sitting for the Danish royal family.

       Feel free to add any more to the list. To be forewarned is to be forearmed in job interviews.

Inspired by a basketballer...

I recently had the pleasure of reading a delightful article by retired American basketball player superstar Kareem Abdul Jabbar, published in Esquire Magazine last month.

http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/kareem-things-i-wish-i-knew

This list of life-lessons (twenty tidbits of wisdom he would like to share with his 30-year-old self, while acknowledging his younger self would not have heeded a single word of it) is witty, gentle, and fundamentally humane, eschewing the kind of finger-wagging "I knowitis" we often get from our elders. There's plenty of regret and a little bit of rue, but thankfully, no bitterness.

It's also inspired me to create a similar list of life lessons for my younger self. As I am not as old or as worldly as KAJ, there are only ten and are addressed to a 20-year-old Dusty V.

1. Read less. Yep, that's right, read less. If I wasn't overdosing on films and television, I had my head in a book. This gave me great literary 'cred' and stood me in excellent stead when I worked in bookstores later in life, but seriously, I should have spent more time in the great outdoors, or nightclubs, or racetracks, or soup-kitchens, or even the Moomba BirdMan rally, 'doing' and 'experiencing' than living vicariously via the characters in a novel. No matter how evocative, or well-written, or able to transport you, a book is no substitute for real pain, real pleasure, real risk. Time enough to read when you're this age (42) and your bones, muscles and reflexes are slowing down but your brain is simultaneously more receptive - and more critical - than ever. Now is the time read Ayn Rand and see her for the deluded fuckstick she really was.

2. Learn to ride a bike. Learning to ride a bike at age 41 has provided me with endless fodder for great dinner party conversation and a great Toastmasters speech, but 21 might have been a more practical age to acquire this life skill. Had I learned to ride 20 years ago, I wouldn't be gripping the handlebars like a madwoman or sweating gallons of adrenaline every time a car passed me - when I'm on a bike path...

3. Travel more. I did Eastern Europe in my late 20s, and Asia in my 30s, but here I am at the ripe old age of 42, never having seen London, Paris, Madrid, Amsterdam, Rome or Berlin - or any of the other de rigueur Contiki/Captain's Table destinations. Sad, sad, sad. As I grow less patient with long, winding queues, I can only see travel becoming harder. (Unless it's New York). Shoulda done it when I had a) the energy b) the patience and c) no mortgage.

4. Listen to your mother less. Yep. True. They say you come back to your parents in adulthood and only then "have you truly grown up". Bullshit. I spent a great chunk of my 20s listening to and obeying my mother. Not because I thought she was right and wise, but because I couldn't bear the passive-aggressive treatment, the guilt-trips and the colossal air of grievance that hovered around her like a bad smell when she felt under-appreciated or under-valued. Sometimes it was easier to give in and take the advice, most of which was very very good ("Paris isn't going anywhere and interest rates aren't going to stay low for ever"), but I wish I'd tuned her out occasionally, listened to my baser needs/wants/instincts more and no doubt had a happier, more carefree time of my youth.

5. Cultivate more girly friendships with women. Let me explain: as someone with two older sisters, growing up in a matriarchy with an emotionally quarantined father, I craved male company as an adult. This meant I sought friendships mostly with male workmates, the boyfriends of acquaintances and an extended network of male cousins. This was great, and I count at least four very good male friends in my group today whom I would consider substitute brothers (two I met in my twenties), as well as a husband who is truly a best friend, yet only one truly close female friend. Admittedly, I have never been a "girly" girl and because I didn't date in my twenties (being in a committed relationship the whole decade), I couldn't share in the stories of dates-gone-wrong, holiday romances/bust-ups or dodgy sexcapades. They were another country and it was always going to be an ask. (Plus, I am a judgmental eye-roller a la Liz Lemon). I still feel like there's a gap somewhere in my personal development that a girly friendship might have filled. But at least I have Silky Karpitz!

6. See more of Australia. I have never been to Adelaide, the Red Centre, Gimpy (sick), The Kimberleys, Uluru, Bankstown, Toowoomba, King Island or Newcastle.

7. Take more of an interest in make-up. There are women my age who can apply eyeliner in the dark, drunk, driving, drunk driving or while fast asleep while I can barely apply it sober, in the morning in brilliant light.

8. Drink better quality alcohol (and less of it). Since I have developed a taste for particular (and better) stuff in my 40s - good red wines, particular whites, certain beers, excellent amber spirits - as well as listening to my tastebuds more, I am drinking considerably less of it. Should have been this fussy 20 years ago and saved myself a couple of dress sizes and embarrassing moments...

9. Talk less, listen more. A no-brainer.

10. Love animals (and their owners) more. Growing up without a pet made me immune to canine cuteness or cat cool and I still struggle to be moved by other people's pet stories. I am genuinely distressed for pet owners when they lose a loved one (I'm not a complete sociopath), but I still have a kind of animal-related autism that forces me to actively readjust my facial features into something resembling a normal human response to people's pet stories.

There it is. Wonder what a younger Dusty might make of this...