Personality Profiling

Usually, I don't like the idea of personality profiling - I mean, profiling my personality. Go ahead and profile yourselves all you want. But I'm not into "getting in-touch with my inner self". The only way I know how to get in-touch with my inner self is to undergo invasive surgery. This attitude was solidified the other day when I attended a time-management seminar. Lo and behold, one of the exercises we had to do was to do a personality profile test, the purpose of which was to determine what type of worker you are (go-getter, instruction-taker, people person, perfectionist etc).

What did this personality profiling involve? Well, there was a list of questions and four possible answers for each question, one in each of four columns. We had to rate each answer, the higher number being your first choice of answer and the lowest number being your last choice of answer. Then we had to add up each column. After that we filled out another table, did some multiplication, addition and a few magic tricks and then, walla, we had our answer. The final numbers in this table were supposed to tell you how much of each personality type you are.

Well, I think that this test really worked. The results were really spot on. And you would think that this is a good thing. But it's not. Let me explain.

It's a bit like a fancy card trick where the magician gets you to pick a card and then you put it back in the pack. The magician does his hocus pocus and returns to you the card that you chose. And, of course, you knew that he would.

In other words, The fact that this test "worked" meant that I could tell that the results were correct because I already knew what the right answer was. If the test had said something other than what I anticipated then either a) the test is bunkum; or b) I have spent the 32 years of my life not paying attention to myself.

Perhaps I'm being cynical. Perhaps in one short blog I have just ridiculed decades of scientific research into the psyche of the human being. Perhaps. Or perhaps through superior logic and air-tight arguments I have exposed personality profile testing for the scam it really is.

Either way, it's a sensational way to end this blog.

Who Holds The Real Power?

My question for today is: who holds the real power in your company?

Most people's first answer is that the Vice Presidents, Upper Management and Board of Directors hold the real power in the company. They are the ones to make the big decisions. They are the ones that set policy for the lowly minions beneath them. They are the ones who determine the direction of the company and they dictate the broad culture of the organisation. Certainly they are the ones with the real power.

But then you think to yourself, well, this must be a trick question because everyone knows that the big-wigs are the decision makers. So let's think for a second - who are the ones with REAL power in the company? Ahh, it must be the exact opposite of what you originally thought.

The secretaries, mail-room staff, security personnel and the warehouse staff - they are the ones with REAL power. Why? What happens if you want to order something - who gets it for you? What about if you are going to travel somewhere and you want a really good seat, or a day lay-over in Hawaii - who is going to arrange that for you? What about that really, really, really important report that absolutely has to be finished on time - who is going to drop everything to get it done? That's right. It's the (seemingly) lowly staff who hold the real power. They are the ones you have to get on-side in order to succeed in a company. The secretary who can make or break you by getting the report typed on time. Or the warehouse guy who will see if he can pull a few strings to get you the 19" flat panel monitor instead of the standard 17". Or the girl at the travel desk who can arrange your flights so that you just happen to have a day or two in sunny Hawaii. They are the ones with real power.

You think you have found a clever answer to the question.

Think again. Who are these people in the grand scheme of things? Who are they when it comes to promotions and salary reviews? They might help you out on a day-to-day basis - and are certainly worthy of being your allies, but where does the REAL power lie? There can only be one answer - the top brass. Yep. I've come to the conclusion that the mail-guy is important - but can he fire me? Perhaps the secretary can help me complete a task on time - but can she authorise a bonus? It is definitely the big kahunas who hold the real power in the company.

So if you want to effect change; if you want to make an impact, you have to aspire to the upper echelons of the organisation. But then again, you probably won't be able to get in the building if the guy controlling the boom-gate isn't on your side. So you might just decide not to become the Chairman, but instead to become the doorman...

In any case, who ever heard of a company Chairman earning a salary plus 50% in tips. Hmmm? Whose the smart one now?

Grey Hair

I noticed a while ago that my hair is slowly turning grey. It is rather interesting because I am only 32 and I didn't actually expect my hair to turn grey at this point in my life. Perhaps I am merely getting a-head of myself (ergh).

When my late grandfather started to use a walking stick for support, he commented to me that all of a sudden there are so many people copying him by carrying walking sticks with them. Once you start to do something new, you tend to notice many others doing the same or similar thing - they were there all along, but you just didn't have cause to notice them. Well, it seems like a lot of people are going grey just to copy me. I seem to notice other people's greying hair more and more often - like nobody had grey hair before and now there are so many of them walking around. I must also be a trend-setter.

It fascinates me that even though I don't consider myself particularly vain, I catch myself checking the progress of the grey hair in the mirror. The truth is, I don't actually mind the fact that I'm going grey. I sort of like it, in a way. Perhaps I'll look distinguished with a grey mop-top. Or perhaps not. You see, in my constant look-out for grey hair, I have developed a number of categories to define the different types:

- White hair
- Silver grey hair
- Dirty grey hair
- Balding grey hair
- Flecky grey hair (also "Salt n' Pepper)
- Temples-only grey hair
- Grey hair, coloured beard
- Coloured hair, grey beard

So far I think that I fall into the temples-only grey hair category. I believe that sometime soon I will advance. I'm hoping to achieve a silver-grey look, although I suspect it isn't entirely up to me.

According to Wikipedia:

The change in hair color is caused by the gradual decrease of pigmentation that occurs when melanin ceases to be produced in the hair root, and new hairs grow in without pigment. Two genes appear to be responsible for the process of greying, Bcl2 and Mitf. The stem cells at the base of hair follicles are responsible for producing melanocytes, the cells that produce and store pigment in hair and skin. The death of the melanocyte stem cells causes hair to begin going grey.

My older brother once had a classmate who had a natural tuft of white hair in the center of his fringe. The principal of the school once demanded that, on pain of suspension, he not colour his hair. When he explained that it is a hereditary thing, the principal did not believe him - until he saw this kid's brother, who was also sporting the family tuft.

It seems that lots of people I know are now starting to go grey. I look around and see people who thus far have very healthy heads of hair, but have started to show signs of dying melanocyte stem cells.

I wonder how long on average it takes for a person to go from a couple of grey hairs to a full head of grey hair. I suppose it would be a little difficult to get a consistent sample of people, but the statistic would be interesting. In my informal study of grey hair, I have noticed that once the greying achieves a certain percentage of the person's head (say, 20%) the procedure seems to speed up. Before you know it, the poor guy's head is covered in grey. However, there are those who would say that they would much rather go grey than lose their hair. Which brings me to this next joke, which my wife likes to tell:

A balding man walks into a barber shop and says that he would like to have a haircut. The catch is that he only has three strands of hair left, which is a very sensitive issue for him. After reassurances from the barber, the man sits down in the chair and the barber gets to work combing these three hairs. All of a sudden, one of the hairs is accidentally plucked from his head. The balding customer is now upset, but after further reassurances, he agrees to sit back down so the barber can continue. Unfortunately, one of the two remaining strands of hair falls out. Now the balding customer is furious. He takes a hand-mirror and quickly surveys the damage. He is now so upset that he shouts at the barber, "Forget it! Just leave it messy!"

The truth is, I don't really mind that my hair is greying. But there are obviously lots of people who do care. In fact, this article from BBC Health news discusses a possible pill for stopping, or slowing, the greying process. Do you get that? There is actually research going on to figure out how to stop hair from turning grey. Get this:

Desmond Tobin, a reader in cell biology at the University of Bradford who has carried out research in this area, said he would await the paper with interest.

Which means that there's more than one study about grey hair. Moreover, someone is actually funding the research. Which means that someone is actually spending money to find this out. Imagine the prestige. You walk into a conference for medical research professionals in a fancy hotel somewhere in fashionable New York City:

Other Guy: Hi. I'm Bob. I am conducting research on how to cure cancer/leukemia/the common cold. What do you do?
You: I'm researching grey hair.

As the "Aging Hipsters" website so eruditely puts it:

Being the "self-absorbed" generation that we are, we'll probably find a way to ignore the cancer findings and go straight for the cure for gray hair.

Wanted: Brainspace

Watcha gonna do when you get a snack attack?
Howdya keep away from junk?
Howdya keep em off ya back?

But when it's time to feed your belly
Get off the beaten track
Time to find a new direction
Time to get a snack pack

du du du du du du du

When a snack attack does it to you
You got the facts
Nothin does it to you like a
SNACK PACK!

In case you are thinking to yourself that perhaps I have completely lost it, let me explain. The above is the "jingle" for an advertisement for a kid's chocolate yoghurt called "Snack Pack". This advertisement screened on Australian TV in the 1980s and I still remember every word.

I hesitate to write it down, but you will have to believe me when I say that I can recite the entire Franco Cozzo advertisement (also from the '80s), even with a semi-authentic accent (Footesgray).

This is what we had to memorise in Grade 5:

Mr Kartoffle's a whimsical man
He drinks his beer from a watering can

And for no good reason that I can see
He fills his buckets with China Tea

He parts his hair with a knife and fork
And takes his ducks for a Sunday walk

Says he, "If my wife and I should choose
to wear our stockings outside our shoes

"And eat tobacco instead of jam
And plant tulips in the baby's pram

"That's nobody's business but ours"

I was obviously a diligent student.

Songs, games, irrelevant facts, quotes, stories and images all take up valuable space in our brains. But the important stuff, well, blowed if I know where I put my keys or what my pin number is or whether today is Monday or Wednesday.

But what I can tell you, something that you surely always wanted to know, is that there are only four words in the English language which end in "dous": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.

Now, what was it that I was doing, again?

Graffiti is Good

Graffiti is good. I mean, how else are we going to know what people are thinking - especially the youth? They need to write on walls to get our attention, and that's OK. Look, let's say that you and a crew of eight people worked really hard over the last four weeks building a wall along a highway, carefully placing the stones to make a pattern, or tiling a 5 meter high, 200 meter long wall with 2 cm x 2 cm tiles, or whatever. Then, in the middle of the night, some drunken university student comes with a 10 shekel spray can and writes in huge black letters "Get The US oUt oF Irak!" (randomly inserting upper-case letters and misspelling "Iraq"). What's the problem with that? Self expression is good. Some people write blogs, others paint pictures or take photos, while others express themselves by verbally abusing passers-by or by vandalising property. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

Aside from the "Fred waz ere '82" type of graffiti, which is plain boring and basically useless, there are obviously some very clever and witty graffiti vandals out there. Sometimes one wonders if the graffiti vandal just has a wrong point of view or if he is trying to be sarcastic. Example: On a wall in Ramat Beit Shemesh "Torah is the way of truth and good!" (nobody told the vandal that defacing someone else's property is not an example of Torah values); or (scratched into a tree) "I Love Nature". There are also types of graffiti that don't mean anything, give a message or put forward a viewpoint - they are just meant to be destructive and messy, possibly with some meaning for the vandal alone. A private joke in public. Ha Ha. The joke's on us.

Normally, if a person isn't good at something, the last thing they want to do is publicise it. For instance, if I have no artistic talent, then why would I want to sign my name to a painting and exhibit it in the public domain? It would simply be embarrassing. So if I can't spell, why would I want to take a spray can and write stuff on walls where everyone can see it? This seems to be the case with the majority of graffiti vandals - they can't spell. For example, there is a railway bridge which crosses over a main road in Melbourne (Inkerman Road, just before Chapel Street). On the side of the bridge in very large letters are the words, "This brige is self supporting" - which would be funny, except for the fact that the perpetrator of this graffiti can't spell "bridge". To cover up their obvious illiteracy, graffiti vandals will either spell each word incorrectly on purpose so that it looks like they really do know how to spell, but just don't want to (e.g.: Fred waz ere '82), or they will run all the letters together so that you can't read the word.

I think that next time, before you get the urge to ruin someone's fence by writing, "I hate vandals" in red spray paint, it might pay to use a dictionary for those hard words...

I Chose to Write This Blog

I bought a new pair of shoes the other day. I walked into the shop, saw a pair of regular, plain men's black shoes. Tried them on and handed over my credit card. I was in and out of the shop in less than 7 minutes.

Some people can't do that. They have to spend time choosing things. Browsing through the choices. Selecting. "What if there is something better?" or "It's not exactly what I want. Close, but, well, not exactly what I want." Then either one of two things inevitably happens. Either after half an hour of browsing they decide that there is nothing there for them to buy (like channel surfing through a hundred stations only to realise that there is nothing to watch, which you knew already but you paid your subscription so you feel obligated to use it); or, after a lengthy period of time, they end up going back to the first thing they saw. Ergh!

What annoys me most, though (this is turning out to be a bit of a rant, isn't it? Sorta fun, don't you think? Or not) is when people take forever to choose what to eat, "Should I have the chicken or the turkey?" (they are the same thing, you dill); or "I really want the salmon, but they make it so dry here. But I like dry salmon, but not as dry as they make it here. Maybe I should have the tuna. But last time it was too moist. I mean, I don't mind it moist, it's just that they make it too moist." Listen, what is it with food that people have difficulty in choosing what to eat? It's not like you are buying a car or a house. It's not a major investment. It's only lunch, for goodness sakes. Crikey.

As the Architect says to Neo in 'The Matrix: Revolutions', "The problem, as you so eloquently put it, is choice" (or something like that). Choice. Too much of it. It is baffling how a person can get through the day with the number of choices he has to make. This one or that one? This first or that first? Just pick one, already!

A great story (could be an urban legend, or it could be true): an exasperated father of a teenage boy seeks the help of his local rabbi. His son cannot handle choices. Every time he has to make a decision, he chooses to play up and try to get out of it. The wise and sagely rabbi sends the kid to a kibbutz where he has to stand at the end of a conveyor belt and sort the oranges as they roll through - small, medium and large. As you can imagine, the oranges come through at a pace which allows little time for contemplation, so quick decisions have to be made. The kid loses his decision-making difficulty. Problem solved.

If you want to torture someone, a good tip is to lock them in a room and play the same song over and over and over and over and over again. It will drive them bananas. Which is really the point, isn't it? You see, we can't handle monotony. We need variation and change in our environment. But there comes a point when having a choice of 40 different types of bread in the supermarket, with only the wrappers to distinguish them, is detrimental rather than helpful.

I once was at a youth-group seminar when we were told to enter a room and choose a seat - whichever we wanted. There were about ten of us and there were about 20 chairs placed in different positions around the room. Naturally, I chose the first chair I came in contact with. It was amazing to see how many people milled around for ages trying to chooses which chair to sit on! Incredible - like you could make the wrong choice or something!

OK, granted, there are some things that are worth thinking over or thinking through first. But, please, if you are faced with a low-cost choice (ie: not a life-changing choice), then just make a decision. It's not that hard.

Choices confront you every second of the day. Here's an example of a choice: I chose to write this blog, and you chose to read it. Fascinating.

Babies Don't Have Snooze Buttons

Getting out of bed can be difficult, especially after a late night and/or a very deep sleep. So, despite that the Greeks had already done so in 250 BCE, at around about the 14th Century, we invented the alarm clock and again in 1876. And just on time, too.

But then we had to go and ruin it all and invent the snooze button. Instead of waking you up, you quickly learn a new reflex action: the stretch and press. This gives you another nine minutes of sleep and is an action that you can repeat as many times as you like and thus get up really, really late.

The low-tech solution (aside from learning a bit of self-control) is to put the clock on the other side of the room so that you actually have to get up and walk over to the clock to turn it off. Theoretically, this should be enough to wake you up and get you started. However, personal experience says that this, too, becomes a reflex action. Crawling back into bed "just for another few minutes" is often the result.

So now we have a hi-tech solution: the Clocky. According to this write-up by the MIT Media Lab:

"When the alarm clock goes off and the snooze button is pressed, Clocky will fall off of the bedside table and wheel away, bumping mindlessly into objects on the floor until he eventually finds a spot to rest. Minutes later, when the alarm sounds again, the over-sleeper must get up out of bed and search for Clocky. Because you employ multiple senses to find the clock, you are sure to awake before disabling the alarm. Small wheels enable Clocky to move and reposition himself, and an internal computer helps him find a new hiding spot every day".

Frankly, this clock looks pretty darn scary - or like an Ewok from Star Wars. It's all hairy and has a tiny LCD display resembling beady little eyes. Then, when you snooze it, it jumps off the table and runs away, no doubt flailing its arms like an excited child chuckling to itself in an annoying high-pitched voice "You can't find me! You can't find me!"

Eventually, clocky will run out of new hiding spots and will just end up shivering in the middle of the room, trying to look invisible. Either you will trip over it and sprain your ankle (because you are not programmed to go "bumping mindlessly into objects on the floor" ); or, in your semi-concious state, you will see it on the floor, quaking in it's little hairy boots and you will kick it against the wall and go back to bed. That, or you will press the snooze button again so you can watch it run away again, only for you to follow it and press the snooze again until the little wheeled monster runs out of breath or batteries and just plain gives up. Then you can go back to sleep. So, frankly, I don't see how this contraption is going to work.

The only solution is to (somehow) get hold of a baby because a baby will cry until you pick it up, change its nappy and make it some breakfast. By that time you will certainly be wide awake. There is no alternative because, you know, babies don't have snooze buttons.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

When I grow up, I don't want to be a fireman, a fruiterer or a farmer. I don't want to be a policeman, a politician or a polution expert. I don't even want to be a baker or a banker or a barber; a doctor or a dentist or a doorman; a lawyer or a labourer or a lifeguard; or a psychiatrist or a psychologist or a psychotherapist; or a carpenter or a car repairer or a cardiologist; or a telephonist or a teacher or a tutor; or a driver or a diver or a drover. No Sir.

When I grow up, I want to be:

• An Odor Judger (to test if the deodorants are effective or not, blech)
• A Furniture Tester (to see how comfortable that recliner really is)
• A Laughter Therapist (so I can charge people to listen to me cracking jokes)
• A Builder of Architectural Models (I could bring my kids to work and they could actually help!)
  
• A Comic Strip Editor (you get to see all the great comics first)
  
• A Shovel Holder in a Work Gang
  
• A Train Conductor (just so I can shout "All Aboard")
• A Crop Duster (in a light-plane, of course - I once watched such a plane go round after round over a field. Looked like great fun)
• A New Food Taster (especially if this job is working for Cadbury)
• A Manure Shoveller (because not even your boss will want to come close to you so you can spend your days surfing the net without having to actually shovel anything because that would be just plain disgusting)
  
• A Brail Smoother (to erase spelling mistakes in brail books)
• A Lotto Ticket Seller (because you get to sit in one of those cool looking booths)
• A Colouring Book Drawer (you only have to outline the picture and can leave the boring colouring bits to the youngsters)
• A Race Caller (because you can say whatever you want, as long as you say it fast)
• A Tour Guide in the Soil Museum - fair dinkum, one actually exists!

What do you want to be when you grow up?

If You Can Read This, My Handwriting Has Improved

When I was in Grade 2, we were only allowed to write in pencil. But, if you could prove that your handwriting was neat enough, you could earn a "Pen Licence", which authorized you to write in pen. Should your handwriting lapse into illegibility, your Pen Licence could be revoked.

Although at the time I probably wasn't the first to earn a Pen Licence, I clearly recall being presented with one. If I was in Grade 2 right now, I think I'd have a hard time earning one. Although she might be delighted that I can type over 50 words per minute with high accuracy, I doubt that Mrs L. would be impressed by the quality of my penmanship.

My Grade 6 teacher also taught us penmanship. But he cheated because he used to comment on our work by stapling notes to our worksheets - notes typed on an electric typwriter in cursive font (red ink, of course). I always suspected that his handwriting was no good.

I recently decided to take a look on the internet to see if there are any websites that provide excercises to help me improve my handwriting. I found quite a few. The one I liked the best had you re-write the following paragraph over and over again:

Writing is a form of expression, and neat handwriting is important when writing anything that will be read by someone else. We are often judged by the quality of our handwriting, and when our penmanship is poor we appear to be lazy or incompetent. Good handwriting involves forming letters properly and spacing the letters carefully within words. Letters should not be squeezed together, but they should not be spread far apart, either. It’s also important to form letters the correct height. Capital letters should be larger than lower-case letters. Words need to be separated so they don’t run together. When a person develops good handwriting, he or she can be proud of creating quality work.

This is good because not only does it give you a practice paragraph to copy out (sort of like 'writing lines' in school), but it also brainwashes you along the way. I like that.

The root cause of my bad handwriting is probably that it takes too much time and I can't be bothered. But I really should be bothered and I think I should take the effort to improve my handwriting skills.

Which leads me to the next point. I mentioned to someone that I was thinking of tackling this issue and he asked a very interesting question: what happens to handwriting analysis if you change your style of handwriting? For example, if now I slope my lower-case "l" to the right, but then re-learn how to write and do not slope the "l" at all, then does that impact on an analysis of my handwriting? For the answer to this question, see: Graphology / Handwriting Analysis FAQ.

FAQ number 8 reads:

My handwriting changed drastically because of a conscious effort to make my illegible handwriting legible; is it possible ?

A conscious effort to make handwriting more legible is a sign of wanting to communicate. Legibility is about making sure people can read your writing . And you would be viewed as willing to make clear communication. People who communicate clearly would probably be honest. That's a positive side. On the other hand, the change for better legibility might be intepreted as a 'conforming' act. The society might encourage communication or nice looking, neat handwriting. There is nothing bad about conforming. But sometime it could be viewed as a loss of originality. The person who asked this question actually agrees that the change has resulted in better clarity in his communication

I'm not sure that the question itself makes any sense, but perhaps it was submitted in handwriting and the webmaster couldn't read it properly...or maybe the webmaster is illiterate?

But in any case, according to the answer, if you want to improve the quality of your handwriting, be prepared to be branded an 'honest conformist' - you are trustworthy but want to be just like everyone else. So I ask, what if society is corrupt and you want to be just like them? Do you write only every second letter neatly?

Not necessarily following on from the honesty question, but doctors are notorious for bad handwriting. One joke goes as follows:

The doctor gave a prescription to a patient. The patient looked at it, but could not recognise a single letter. When he brought the prescription to the pharmacist, the pharmacist took a look and went straight away to bring the required medicine. As the pharmacist was busy ringing up the total on the cash-register, the puzzled customer asks, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but how can you possibly read that prescription?"

"Oh," replies the pharmacist, "it's easy. They all say the same thing"

"What's that?"

"All prescriptions say 'I've got my money, now you get yours!'"

Actually, according to this article in the Columbia News Service of April 25, 2006: "Florida, Idaho, Maryland, Montana, Tennessee and Washington all have passed “safe script” laws in recent years. In October, Montana adopted a law under which doctors can be fined up to $500 if their handwriting is reported by a pharmacist to be illegible".

Maybe its about time the government starts issuing Pen Licences. I'll give Mrs L. a call.

A Thought I Thought I'd Share

Here is a very quick thought I think is worth sharing. It came to me all of a sudden so I felt compelled to write it down.

There comes a time in every person's life when they just sit back and ponder the greater meaning of things in their life. That sort of feeling washed over me the other day when I was scrubbing the grouting in the bathroom. I suddenly stopped. It was as if the world was happening in slow motion. I could almost hear inspirational, yet dramatic music as I looked up towards the ceiling, the scrubbing brush falling gracefully from by rubber-gloved hands. The question that had been eluding me all these years suddenly appeared before me so bright and obvious that I just had to speak it out loud as I sat there on the floor of my bathroom, "Why," I asked, "Why do they call it a slumber party if nobody who attends one ever sleeps?"

It's a darn good question, and one worth spending much time exploring. Enjoy. I've got better things to do, like scrub the grouting in my bathroom.