Google Reads Your Email--I Googled It

Rick,

This morning, I was reading the news on google, and I came across a story about their latest lawsuit about e-mail privacy.  I'm sure the military read our e-mails, as your new employer may ... but if you get a chance to read the article linked below, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/google/10767626/Google-outlines-email-scanning-practices.html

I'll jot down a few things myself ...

Cheers!

Mike

 

Mike-

I read the article and the first thing I did was check my gmail account. As I looked over my inbox, five things became apparent to me:

 

1-      I like to shop. My wife may be right in stating that I’m a clothes junkie. In my defense, most of the items were on sale and good quality. I suppose that will be irrelevant if I go broke saving money. That’s another blog for another day, though.

2-      I hear from Redbox more often than I do from my older children. It was kind of sad to realize that Redbox is one of the few interactions I can count on every day. However, both Redbox and my kids usually only contact me because they want my money. So there’s that.

3-      I’m consistently behind in my Bible reading. I know this because my Bible app keeps sending me email reminders. I don’t want to read them because I feel guilty. I also don’t want to delete them because that seems wrong. I mean, you can’t just delete something telling you to read God’s word. That’s got to be a sin, like skipping a Christian song on your Ipod. I feel guilty just thinking about it. So all those gentle reminders sit in my inbox unread.

4-      I send myself a lot of emails. I send them thinking I will work on them at home. Never happens so they just clog up my inbox. Although I’m sure the guy reading them gets a chuckle out of the fact that I sometimes write myself encouraging notes.

5-      Man, have I been turned down for a lot of jobs! I started keeping the rejection notices because I thought they would fuel my fire. I would make everyone pay who passed on me. Boy, were they going to be sorry. Instead, I’m usually sorry I kept them. I go back and sniffle through them while thinking “why didn’t you want me?” Then I eat ice cream to feel better. Then I feel bad about myself. Then I eat more food. Then I complain that I go to the gym but can’t lose weight. It’s all very healthy.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the feedback you were looking for. When I was in the military, every time I logged on to my computer I had to consent to being monitored. It was just part of the routine. I would always think, “Yes, Big Brother, I understand that you have the right to monitor my email and see that I’m consistently poor at reading them and even worse at answering them in a timely manner.” I mean, if they were going to monitor them, why didn’t they ever help a brother out? I can think of several occasions when I hit the send button and it should have stopped me and asked “Really? Are you sure you want to send that? In that tone? To that person? Do you really want to never get promoted again?” But, seriously, I always understood why they monitored email. It played a role in maintaining good order and discipline, as well as protecting sensitive information.

Now I have transitioned to a civilian job and my email is still monitored. I’m not as sure why they need to monitor it. Maybe at some point I’ll know a trade secret or something. At the rate I accumulate knowledge, I think they have a good decade or so before they need to worry about it. Whatever. At least they told me that they held the right to check it. I can deal with that.

My problem with the Google policy is twofold. First, no one told me. Maybe I want to keep my private email conversations with myself private. I think it’s fair to seek privacy without having something to hide. Secondly, the Google policy is only there as a way to increase revenue. I’m a diehard capitalist. I have no problem with making money however you legally can. This just doesn’t seem legal to me. It looks like they will start putting it in the terms of use. I imagine it going something like this: “Gmail is not actually free. You must agree to allow us to read your boring, poorly written emails so we can figure what you like and then force unwanted advertisements on you every time you try to see if Redbox has written you today.”

The most salient point of the entire article is this quote that I admittedly took out of context: “a person has no legitimate expectation of privacy.” To me, that sums up life in today’s society. I wasn’t even a little shocked to learn my emails were being read. I would have been more surprised to learn that they weren’t. Bottom line- You should live your life like it’s being recorded, because it most likely is.

Rick 

Rick, 

I finally sat down to write out a few thoughts after getting the kids from school.  

The notion that tech firms take advantage of the information we provide is not surprising, but Google's admission that they parse e-mails sent from or to my gmail account to learn more about me is disturbing.

Sure, I reply when my folks e-mail questions about “bursitis” or “pine beetles”, but that shouldn't shape my next web search. Likewise, unsolicited advice I receive from friends, family, co-workers, or business acquaintances is hardly a welcome basis for future advertisements. It's like if my iPhone picked up snippets of “We Are The Champions” while I was at the last hockey game, and took the liberty of updating my Pandora account to include more Freddy Mercury alongside the traditional bluegrass I had planned to enjoy … or if my wife saw me laughing at Dwight Schrute and decided to make beets for dinner. Who makes decisions like that?

Google's assertion that their users have “no legitimate expectation of privacy” is beyond erroneous. The central issue is an ethical one – while my search terms are passed as free text, my e-mails should be considered for the eyes of those I include in the address list. The executives are accustomed to selling information to advertisers, and so are inclined to think all information is freely accessible, but the common user is right to assume the text of their messages are only accessed by those specifically addressed (or those surreptitiously snooping around). Sure, I might know what my teenaged daughter wrote in her journal, but that isn't because I'm a good person – it just means I'm not to be trusted.

I suppose I have several concerns about Google:

- How long before a rogue employee decides to stalk users for sport, and how could that impact me and my family?

- How much data is stored, and who else gets to see it? What are the odds all of their employees are to be trusted?

- Are their conclusions obtainable by warrant, or just the raw data?

Most perplexing to me: What is happening in the world that I will never come across on my own computer? I value innovation, and I believe the only way to be innovative is to know multiple fields of study. I like to look at the world from different perspectives, and find the overlap. When Google attempts to “clarify” my experience, what they mean is “isolate” me. Suddenly, I am defined by my past – encumbered by their perspective of my interests. In fact, I see their business model as cultivating a deliberate prejudice. Google is profiling each of us, and restricting the information we see by prioritizing what they show us.

On the other hand, when YouTube does it, I get a lot of Muppet videos in my feed. I may blame it on my kids, but I really do like when Rowlf sings.

At the very least, Google should offer a “clear vision” mode, where a different search algorithm ignores your cookies and offers a new way to view the internet. Maybe new search functions like “persona:eco”, “persona:fringe”, “persona:vegetarian”, :hipster, :retiree, or :random. These modes of viewing the web could broaden horizons, and potentially increase the way Google helps advertisers define their demographic. There is a way to do it without digging through e-mails.

Regardless, Google has to make money, and we are not exactly limiting the information we give them. There are other search engines, and we should try them from time to time. In fact, I just Googled “best search engine”, and Google isn't even on the first page – though there is a featured ad for Rogaine – that's odd.

Mike

 

"Rick, let's go to Chik-Fil-A"

"Rick, let's go to Chik-Fil-A"

I had only been at AMS for a couple months when my boss said those words to me. It was my first class as one of the senior training officers and I was going at it full throttle. In the immortal words of Nuke Laloosh, I wanted to announce my presence with authority. Need a decision made, I was your man. Need somebody's butt chewed, I got it. Want to make a random, midstream change to the training, I can do that too. I was the very very definition of dynamic subordinancy. I was saving my boss from having to make virtually any important decisions. In short, I was handling things.

So when the boss man suggested we go to lunch at Chik-Fil-A, I was like SWEET! I love Chik-Fil-A. I mean, when the Bible talks about God providing manna from Heaven I always assumed it was a Chik-Fil-A combo and a piece of cheesecake. And for the commander to suggest we go there, I figured I must be kicking butt and taking names. You see, my commander was not the kind of guy to just take you to lunch. Whenever he would open his wallet, you could always count on two things--dust flying out and him tearing up a little. Seriously, his wallet would creak like a door that hardly ever gets opened. Naturally, I was pretty stoked that I had impressed him enough to take me to lunch. And then it all fell apart.

First off, he didn't pay. A setback but not the end of the world. I just assumed he couldn't get the chastity belt off his wallet. Then we sat down and had some polite, if somewhat forced, conversation. At this point, I still didn't know the commander all that well and had not picked up on his "tells". I did, however, notice that he seemed to be blinking for a long, long time as he shifted the focus to work. Again, odd but who doesn't have some idiosyncracies? Little did I know that that longer the blinks, the worse the news for me. When he finally opened his eyes, he started giving me, as he would phrase it, a stern talking to. He reminded me in no uncertain terms that HE was the commander and quite capable of making his own decisions. He also let me know that the program had survived without me before and could do so again so maybe I should pull it back just a bit. I was pretty stunned but said all the right things while thinking all the wrong ones. The lunch ended and we drove back in relative peace. On a side note, I do remember thinking, I hope he doesn't get mad while he's driving and blink like that. That's gotta be dangerous.

Well, life went on. I toned it down...sorta. Then a few weeks later, he suggested we go to Chik-Fil-A again. When he did, I had that nagging thought in the back of my head, "I wonder if I'm about to get my butt chewed again?" I quickly dismissed it. It's not like I'm in Jerry Maguire and he's taking me to a public place so I can't cause a scene, right? Right? Wrong! It happened again. Lots of blinking and long pauses, more "feedback" for me. Just great.

After that I was like one of Pavlov's dogs. Every time he suggested we go to Chik-Fil-A, I would brace myself. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until one day my lovely wife suggested we go to Chik-Fil-A for lunch and I absolutely panicked. I started begging her, "Please don't leave me. Whatever it is, I'll change. I swear, I'll be a better husband just give me another chance. PLEASE!" And to this day, I still get a little nervous when someone asks me if I want to go to Chik-Fil-A. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive him for turning my manna into mania.

In honor of my good buddy who is leaving us soon, I decided to compile his greatest hits.  Just know that this is the Reader’s Digest version.  He’ll most likely get an entire chapter in my book.

So, at virtually every official function in the military there is a POW/MIA/KIA ceremony.  It’s a very somber event where lights are turned down and taps is played at the end.  Its effectiveness largely depends on the narrator’s ability to inject the proper feeling into it.  Here’s a sample of it:

-          The table set is small—symbolizing the frailty of one prisoner alone against his oppressors…REMEMBER

 

-          The tablecloth is white—symbolizing the purity of their intentions to respond to their county’s call to arms…REMEMBER

Well, like I said, this is usually done at formal events.  However, we were doing wake-up one class and my buddy took it to a whole new level.  After kicking on doors and waking officer candidates up at 0445, the flight commander gives a short speech where he introduces himself, the staff that is with him, and lays out his expectations.  Well, without realizing it, he breaks into the POW/MIA ceremony.  It went something like this:

-          “I’m Capt X,  your flight commander for the next six weeks…(dramatic pause) REMEMBER!” 

-          “With me is Maj Kallstrom, the Director of Operations…(dramatic pause) REMEMBER!”

And on and on it went.  It was the second funniest thing I’ve ever seen at a wake-up.  The first is a whole separate blog. The best part was that it was completely unintentional. But to his credit, at least he nailed it.

Capt, now Maj X, is also notorious for ripping off classic one-liners. Here’s a sampling:

-          After his flight came in last in an Air force knowledge challenge, he lifted their spirits by saying “Way to represent, Losers.  Enjoy your MREs.” 

-          To a student who’s hat stuck off the front of his head a good couple inches, he quipped “Your hat looks like a canoe on top of a Volkswagen.” 

-          After asking a trainee who he was rooting for in the NCAA basketball tournament and the student replying that he didn’t watch basketball, he offered up this jewel: “I bet you can play some Warcraft, huh?” 

-          While marching his flight and not being happy with the formation, “You’re as crooked a dog’s hind leg.”

This next one I posted in a previous blog but it’s worth repeating.  This occurred during an actual interview for a senior position on the AMS staff.

-          Question- “Why should we hire you?” 

-          Answer: He leaned forward, got an intense look on his face, pointed at the board president, and boomed “Because I’m ready to lead today!!!  I don’t need to be trained!  I don’t need to spun up!  I’m ready to lead today!”

-   Seriously, the intensity and force he spoke with was shocking. You got the impression that if he had continued it would’ve gone something like this-- “And if you don’t hire me, I will hunt you down and take your firstborn.  Hire me now, on the spot, or I will destroy all of you!”  I think the board president, a female colonel, actually recoiled in fear at one point.  When he left, she looked at me and asked “Why was he so angry?  Is he always that intense?  And where can I get a smoke to calm my nerves?”

Nothing really bonds you like witnessing insanity together.  And, trust me, we witnessed a lot of it together from both staff and students.  This next event involved the single craziest officer candidate that I’ve ever seen come through AMS.  I wrote a whole blog about her previously. She quit, decided not to quit, accused me of throwing her out, decided to stay, and then quit again all in about 10 hours.  As she storms off for the final time, I tell another staff member to call the commander and get him down there so he can witness the insanity while my buddy and I chase her down.  We catch up to her and asked her if she really wants to quit.  She says yes so we start explaining the procedures to her.  She goes off again saying, “I’m a failure.  I’m a failure” because everything had to be said twice.  I’m not sure who she was trying to convince.  She had definitely failed at being rational.  As she’s chanting about her failure, I hear my sidekick come back with one of the best lines ever.  He says, “That’s neither here nor there right now, we just need you to sign the paperwork.”

And, finally, my all-time favorite Maj X story.  We used to get student critiques at the end of every week of training.  You can probably imagine what people write when they can do so anonymously and you’ve been yelling at them for 5 straight days.  Everybody on staff constantly griped about it and, yet, we couldn’t wait to get them every week.  You know, because every so often you got a classic like this:

-          “I was uncomfortable hearing Capt X correct a student in the bathroom with his gentals in his hand.”

A couple of things.  First, that’s an exact quote, not a typo.  The kid said “gentals”.  Secondly, you can read that a hundred times and not be clear on who’s gentals were in who’s hand.  I’m sure you can imagine the ridicule he took over that one.  After reading it, I vowed to never correct a student in the bathroom again.   

Good luck, my friend.  Gonna miss the laughs we shared together.

Mr. Meat Hands Goes to Church

I love church.  And I particularly love my church.  But, man, I hate getting ready for church.  I don’t know about you, but Sunday morning is the most stressful time of the week in our house.  It usually starts off pleasant enough, with Kim making muffins for the man child and the rest of us being allowed to enjoy them.  Before you judge me, that’s her statement not mine.  Anyway, it just seems to get tenser as the morning goes.  With 5 kids, someone is always over sleeping, not able to find their shoes, needing their hair combed, or just being generally too s-l-o-w.  And before you know it, all hell has broken loose while we get ready to go hear about Heaven.  There are siblings barking at siblings, parents yelling at kids, kids muttering about parents, spouses taking deep breaths and still snapping at spouses.  And that’s before we even get in the car.

Once we get in the car, it just continues.  You are pretty much guaranteed to hear the following phrases: “Why is the car door still open?!”  “Why aren’t you buckled in?!”  “I told you before we left to grab your Bible!”  “Look at your face!” “Why do we have to go through this every Sunday?!”  And then we back out of the garage.  From there, the anger peaks as I fight not to curse at everyone on the road.  Why doesn’t everyone drive exactly like I want them to?  Is it wrong to wish harm on people on your way to church?  Anyone know a good road rage support group?

Finally, we arrive at church having not spoken a civil word to each other in 10 minutes.  We huff and puff our way to the entrance where a greeter has the audacity to say “Good morning.  How are you today?”  I’m like really, how am I?  What are you so happy about?  Then I let the guy have it with “I’m great.  How about this beautiful day the Lord has provided?  Great day to be in His house.”  Next thing I know, Kim and I are holding hands and all the tension is gone.  It’s like a weekly miracle.

From there, I really enjoy church.  I only have two minor critiques.  First, I don’t understand why the pastor only preaches at me.  I mean, we go to a huge church so surely there are other people he can preach at.  Right?  But, no, despite the fact that I drive from Alabama every week to be there, he insists on preaching about my sins.  It’s awful.  Honestly, it almost seems a little rude.  I understand that I could stop committing so many sins, be a better person, care more for others, blah, blah, blah.  But is that really the answer?  Couldn’t he just preach about the one or two sins I don’t struggle with?  Even just once-in-a-while?

The second thing I’d like to fix is the hand holding at the end of service.  I don’t get why we have to take someone by the hand as we sing a chorus.  Do they not realize how much anxiety this causes me?  I’m constantly looking to my right or left to see if I have to hold hands with a non-family member.  And, if so, what kind of hand holder are they?  I have broken them down into 5 categories:

1-      The Little Kid- This one is not too bad unless the kid happens to have a drunk uncle that looks like you or they give you the “I don’t want to hold your hand, Creeper” look.

2-      Someone Else’s Wife- Usually it’s non-threatening but I still stress.  What if I hold her hand too long?  What if she holds mine too long?  Am I squeezing too hard?  Not hard enough?  Am I supposed to acknowledge her after the hand hold?  Is a glance enough?  Should I smile?  Uh oh, did she misinterpret my smile?  I’m getting stressed just typing this.  Let’s move on.

3-      The Knuckle Rubber- My unscientific research shows that 98% of the time, this occurs when holding the hand of a senior lady with blue hair and a Buick.  They just can’t help themselves.  They just have to rub your knuckles with their thumb.  For whatever reason, this one doesn’t bother me at all.  I think it’s sweet and it reminds me of my Grandma.

4-      The Clammy Limp Hand- It’s gross.  It’s bad enough that I have to hold your hand, at least wipe it off, Dude.  If you fall into this category, then stop it.  Stop it now.  Your friends will double immediately.  Seriously, just stop it.

5-      The Meat Hand- This is the most feared one for me.  There’s nothing worse than looking over and seeing big meat hand man waiting to engulf my hand.  These guys have hands the size of Rhode Island.  When I see this guy, I usually try to switch with one of my kids.  You know, because kids are so resilient.  It never works though.  So now I’m stuck hoping my hand doesn’t get crushed and trying to figure out how to get the dominate position.  My hand needs to be on top.  So now you have to wait each other out.  Who’s gonna flip their hand under first and take the submissive position?  It’s a battle of wills.   And it’s awkward because you usually end up doing some stupid looking hand dance until someone relents.   Yeah, those are good times.

So, if you happen to sit beside me at church, keep these two things in mind—1) yes, the pastor was talking about me and 2) no, I don’t want to hold your hand.  I’m off for more therapy.

“Guess what your son just did.”

“Guess what your son just did.”  When those were the first words out of Kim’s mouth when I answered the phone, I knew it wasn’t going to be good.  Anyone who has kids knows that phrase is never followed by “He got straight A’s” or “He just said the sweetest thing.”  Nope, he did something bad and I was about to get the blame for it.

After running through various inappropriate responses in my head such as “My son?!  Pretty sure I saw you give birth to him.  Why don’t you say our son?! “ and “Listen, woman, everyone knows he’s a clone of you.  That apple didn’t even roll when it fell from the tree.  It's much more likely it's your fault than mine.  Don’t call me up blaming me for stuff he did.  I’m not even there!” I finally settled on, “What did he do, Baby?”  At least in my mind I brought it strong.

Anyway, the story goes something like this.  Kim was working from home and taking care of our two littlest ones.  Jack was around 2½  at the time and Annika was still an infant.  So, Kim is trying to finish doing the dishes while Annika was napping on the loveseat.  When Annika started to stir, she sent Jack over to watch/entertain her.  Through no fault of his own, Jack was in over his head.  Baby girl was screaming bloody murder.  By the way, this was not unusual.  My sweet little baby girl screamed pretty much nonstop from the moment she was born until about her first birthday.  Then one day, she just stopped and decided to be happy.  Been the sweetest kid in the world ever since.  Anyway, where were we?  Okay, so Kim is turbo washing the dishes so she can go rescue both Jack and Annika. Next thing she knows, our precious, rule following, sweet talking, and loving little man let’s his sister have it.  Evidently, he doesn't take screaming too well.  He bends over at the waist with his arms spread out wide and screams, “Annika, what the hell is your problem?!” 

Kim was mortified.  She broke out the “William Jackson Kallstrom!” If you’re a kid, there’s nothing worse than hearing your whole name.  I can’t ever remember hearing mine while growing up without it being followed by “You’re grounded” or “Go to your room and wait on your dad to get home.”  But since Jack was only 2, Kim tells him that we don’t talk like that and asks where he learned that kind of language.  At this point in the story, I’m thinking, “Crap!  I hope he told her he heard it on TV.  Then I can sound self-righteous and talk about how we need to guard his innocence.” It’s always easier to blame the decaying morals of our society and the filth they put on TV.  But, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.  We had already instilled in Jack to tell the truth.  And in an epic fail of man code, Jack says “That’s what I heard Daddy say to Emily last night.”  Done. Game over.  Last thing I remember hearing after that is “Richard Everett Kallstrom, Jr!  If you corrupt my son…” 

How Not to Get a Job, part deux

If you missed part I, you can read it here: http://the-rickter-scale.blogspot.com/2012/03/how-not-to-get-job.html

Like last time, these are actual responses from actual interviewees.

Question- “What can you tell us about the Academy of Military Science and why do you want to join us at this point in your career?”

Response #1 (female from somewhere I can’t remember)- “Ever since I went through Squadron Officer School, I thought it would be really cool and rewarding to be on the staff.  So when I saw this opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.  Blah, blah, blah.”

-  We all looked at each other like, “Are you gonna tell her this is AMS, not SOS?”  Nope, I guess not.  How do you not even know what job you’re applying for?!  Speaking of which…

Question- “What can you tell us about the Academy of Military Science and why do you want to be a Military Training Leader at this point in your career?”

Response (male from Tennessee)- “Well, I’m really not even sure what a Military…what did you call it?...is.  I saw the ad and thought what the heck.  I’m kind of bored in the job I have now.  Once I figure out what you’re looking for, I could probably do it.”

-   To solidify his standing as a premiere candidate, this joker also showed up in the wrong uniform.  It’s a given when you interview for a military job that you wear service dress, even if they tell you to wear whatever you want. He chose to wear the worst Air Force uniform combo ever- BDUs with the green boots.   At least he did eventually uncross his legs while answering a question.

Question- “Why should we hire you?”

Response #1 (male from Alabama)- “You should hire me because I have great attention-to-detail.  I never miss the little things that others do.  It’s what separates me from other officers.  I think I can teach future officers the same level of attention and precision.”

-   Pretty good answer.  Well, it would have been a decent answer if the ribbons on his uniform had not been upside down.  And if his US insignias had been grounded like they were supposed to be rather than centered.  The thought was good, the execution, not so much.

    -  By the way, this is same person from part I that did not know
        who ran the air war in Iraq.

Response #2 (the rambling male on active duty)-  “I didn’t plan on leaving active duty.  I wanted to make it a career.  Everyone’s been telling me how good I am and then, next thing you know, I’m getting told I have to leave active duty because of the drawdown.  I thought I would be safe with my records but I wasn’t.  So, anyway, I have to be out in a few months.  I have a wife and two kids to support.  This seems like something I could do.  I mean, I really liked being a maintenance officer.  Bottom line, Daddy needs a J-O-B!”

-   Amazingly enough, this guy eventually got hired and was a productive member of the staff.  However, he never lived his classic responses down.  Even now, every time I apply for a job, I say “Daddy needs a J-O-B!”

Response #3 (male already on staff)- He leaned forward, got an intense look on his face, and boomed “Because I’m ready to lead today!!!  I don’t need to be trained!  I don’t need to spun up!  I’m ready to lead today!”

-   Seriously, the intensity and force he spoke with was shocking. You got the impression that if he had continued it would’ve gone something like this-- “And if you don’t hire me, I will hunt you down and take your firstborn.  Hire me now, on the spot, or I will destroy all of you!”  I think the board president, a female colonel, actually recoiled in fear at one point.  When he left, she looked at me and asked “Why was he so angry?  Is he always that intense?  And where can I get a smoke to calm my nerves?”

Response #4 (yours truly)- “It’s like I always say…”

-   That’s right.  I quoted myself during an interview.  Brilliant!  Could help explain why I’m going to retire as a major.  Haven’t lived that one down yet. 

Sometimes before the interview even gets started, things can go awry.  For instance, this is an actual exchange between a board president and a candidate:

Board president- “Do you have any questions before we start?”

Candidate- “No, Sir.”

Board president- “Okay.  Don’t be distracted if you see us writing during your answers.  We’re just trying to make notes of what you say.  Could be good, could be bad.  Ready?”

Candidate- (stunned looked, suddenly pale) “Ummm, sure, I guess.”

Here’s another one:

Board president- (long, long pause) “Tell us a little (long, long blink) about yourself?” (Another eternal blink)

Candidate- (Staring aimlessly into space, refusing to blink, not saying a word for a solid minute)

Me (inside my head)- Open your eyes…blink… open your eyes…blink…seriously, you’re both starting to weird me out…Is he asleep?...does she have some disorder where she can’t blink?…wonder if I could switch chairs before he opened his eyes and she blinked?...I would never get into a staring contest with her...Man, this is freaky…someday I’m gonna blog about all these crazy things.

How Not to Get a Job

During my time at AMS, I had the pleasure of sitting on numerous interview boards.  Actually, I wouldn’t say it was a “pleasure.”  Frankly, it was shocking how bad most people are at interviews.  On the bright side, it makes for great blog material.  These are actual responses from actual applicants.

Question- “Who is your favorite Icon of Airpower and how would you use their influence in training Officer Candidates?”

Response #1 (female from Alabama)- “Woo wee!  That’s a hard one!  I don’t really know much about Icons.  And, clearly, from my initial response of yelling woo wee in the middle of an interview, I’m never going to be one.  Wow, I sure wish I had paid better attention in school when we covered these.  I think I’ll phone a friend.”

-   Okay, I may have embellished that slightly…but not much. 

Response #2 (another female from Alabama)- After lots of stammering, “Well, I guess I would say Gen McKinley.  I mean, a few months ago he was a 3-star general, and now I read where he’s a 4-star general.  How did that happen?”

-   I believe the technical military term for it is a “promotion.”  But don’t worry, I don’t think it’s a concept you’re going to need to be familiar with.

Response #3 (male from Alabama)- “Um, well, I guess I would say the guy who ran the air war in Iraq.  I don’t know what his name is but, man, he had a lot of responsibility.”

-   Really?  You can’t just break out with Billy Mitchell?  Everyone in the Air Force knows if they get an asinine question like this to go with Billy Mitchell.

-  By the way, anyone else picking up on a trend?  I’m not saying, I’m just saying.

Question- “What is an area you’ve been told you need to improve since being commissioned?”

-   This is usually where you get all the humble bragging.  You get the standard responses of:

o   “I’m just too hard on myself.  I expect everything to be perfect.”

o   “I’m so dedicated to the mission that I have a hard time leaving work.”

-   Translation- I’m so good at what I do that I have to turn a positive into a negative so I can answer this question.  We got a much more honest answer this particular time.

Response (male on active duty)- “I’ve been told the men in my family ramble.  I don’t know, maybe we do.  I don’t think I ramble.  At least not usually.  Sometimes I get worked up and ramble some.  But that’s rare.  I usually just answer the question and move on.  Kinda depends on the question, you know?  Sometimes it takes longer to answer a question.  Sometimes you can get straight to the point.  Now, my dad, he definitely rambles.  If you ask him a question, it’s gonna take a while for him to answer.  Know what I mean?  He’s not one to get straight to the point.  He will go on and on and on.  So, again, I don’t think I do that.  I try to give clear and concise answers.  My granddad, he’s a lot like my dad.  He’ll ramble on for hours if you let him. ..”

-   This went on for 22 MINUTES!  Thank goodness it was phone interview so he couldn’t see our faces.  We finally had to cut him off because it was time for the next interview.  I’m gonna say he had not quite cracked that nut.  There was still work to do.

Speaking of rambling, I’ve gone on too long.  I think I’ll turn this into a 2-parter.  Check back next week for the next installment.