It turns out that I am not getting any younger. 1 gin and tonic + 1 big glass of wine + assorted bite-size sugary things = major headache and overall crappy feeling the next day. I was out representing my company at a cool music and technology panel at a speakeasy-type-bar. My company was one of the sponsors. Apparently you are supposed to network like hell at these dealies, so I put on my best business skirt and game face, filled my pockets with business cards, downed a cocktail and started talking to people.
As you might be able to guess from my personality type, this is SO not my comfort area. Sometimes the mood hits and I WANT to talk to strangers, but mostly it takes a little rallying, i.e. drinking my cocktail in a bathroom stall while giving myself a pep talk. Mostly I spend my time at these sorts of things asking myself, ‘how the hell do these people tick?’ With each person I talked to, after I’d extolled the virtues of my company, I went into interrogation mode. One guy told me he has 13,000 contacts in his Blackberry. He has a group of 800 ‘close’ friends that he calls or emails on their birthdays. I drilled him. How much time does it take to manage all those relationships? Does he remember details about everyone? Since he’s such an extraverted connector, is he also good at more typically introvtered things like writing and research? The answers were sickening. He is great at everything, apparently. Or perhaps this was just part of a wooing effort, as I noticed that our conversation waned considerably after he looked at my left hand and asked me if I had a special fella.
I did my duty distributing schwag, and then hit a wall. I didn’t want to talk to any more people or get hit on again (unless it was in a clever way… I’m always game for hilarious pick up lines). When I checked my inbox this morning, there was a handful of Facebook and LinkedIn requests. Ugh. Social management. Not my forte.
But back to my headache. Do you drink at work events, even if they are mid-week? Also, are you older than 22? I really think the drinking age should be changed to 15 so that the people whose lithe young bods can process alcohol can actually enjoy this super power while it lasts.
This is Nina. She’s a rescue mutt from the SPCA. Though she’s come out of her shell considerably since we first got her three years ago, she’s still paranoid about many mundane occurences and is outright terrified of things like men walking on the sidewalk and trucks of any kind — especially garbage trucks. Her personality type is likely an INFJ: “gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. . . they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities.”
High on life
This is Maude. She’s also a rescue, though she never ended up in a shelter. One of my husband’s students found her outside of a liquor store as a 3-month-old puppy. Considering what a friendly and adorable fluffball she was when I first met her, she probably wasn’t waiting there very long. Maude is most definitely an ENFJ — the type whose “main interest in life is giving love, support, and a good time to other people.” Maude is ALL ABOUT people, whether they are neighbors, prostitutes, crack addicts, or friends of mine. She’s not about judging, just loving. She does enthusiasm better than anyone I know.
Opposites in many ways, yes. When a bottled water delivery truck driver stopped me on the street during my morning dog walk the other day to ask for directions, poor Nina thought it was the end for her. Maude, on the other hand, was doing her ecstatic happy-to-meet-you dance, wiggling and wagging with her entire body, smiling with her eyes more fiercely than Tyra ever imagined. I just held on to their leashes, trying not to fall over.
The Jungian Myers-Briggs personality test is given a lot of credence by career professionals. The coach I’m seeing asked me to take it. Like a lot of people, I’ve had different results over the years. When I was just out of college, I scored as an INFP, or ‘The Idealist.’ How fitting — the cruel realities of the world hadn’t hit me yet. This type is actually similar to Barack Obama’s, which is ENFP, or ‘The Inspirer’. When I took the test last year I was an ISTJ, or ‘The Duty Fulfiller.’ I took it a few different times here in the last few days, and scored ISFJ, i.e. ‘The Nurturer’ each time. I took it once here and once here and both times was an ISTJ (it seems I’m on the border between Thinking and Feeling — it’s almost poetic).
It’s interesting to see how my personality has changed from a type that is known for shunning facts and analysis to one that shuns theory and fancy. This depresses me a little bit. Has the working world hardened me? Yes, it’s true, I like organization and value predictability and routine. I like to see the fruits of my labor. I find it much easier to grasp details than the big picture. Perhaps I’ve even become more conventional, as most ISFJ’s and ISTJ’s are.
Is this why I’m considering library science as opposed to a master’s degree in English? I really like the idea of a job with concrete responsibilities — not broad, unclear objectives. As much as I love reading fiction and engaging with subtext in literature and in life, I suppose I’ve become a lot more of a literal person. Facts impress me more than emotions. Perhaps this is why, for instance, I can’t really get on the Obama-train (i.e. the enthusiasm that has swept the nation) although I *do* like him and will most definitely vote for him.
What do you think about personality tests: are they a source of penetrating insight, or a bunch of narcissistic hooey?
