Inside the interview room, facing the door, to the left, from across a small table sat a greying middle-aged man of Caucasian appearance in a typically Indian safari suit. He had a handwritten name tag 'Billy' on his chest. He had a very casual and semi-bored appearance that his close friends knew was deceptive. He was actually very tuned and paying a great deal of attention. A little to his left sat an older white haired old man in a wheelchair. He too appeared to be of European origin. He had a name tag saying "Ken". There was a saree clad Indian woman, looking to be in her late 30s, sitting next to the man in the wheelchair. She had a neatly printed name tag saying "Sarita - Interpreter" pinned to her saree on the chest from where it folded over her shoulder.
"Hello, Good morning Sirs, Madam," Miss. Tara bowed formally and politely, trying to figure out who was the most important one. Ken seemed to be in the middle and the two others sat turned slightly towards him. They waited for him to make the first response as he was looking down at something on the desk. He looked up and stared directly at the candidate for a second. Billy waved for Miss. Tara to come forward and signalled her to sit down, grunting a greeting.
Miss. Tara moved closer and sat down. There was a spare seat next to her and she thankfully put down all her 'attachments' - handbag, mobile phone and water bottle in it. She noted that the three interviewers too were sweating and a bit uncomfortable. There was no fan running. Must be a cheap rented office, she figured - not even a generator for the important clients!! She however noted that the three in the room seemed quite cool and focussed mentally.
"Hello, Miss. Tara, Thank you for coming to meet and talk with us," said the Ken in a clear but clipped accent.
The interview began and proceeded as with others. Ken often did not ask the questions himself, but pointed to a paper in front of him and Sarita, the interpreter, asked the question on his behalf. She also occassionally translated Tara's responses from English into another language that Tara was unfamiliar with. Billy sometimes jumped in midstream and asked a question in English or commented , sometimes in that in that strange language.Mostly, he sat with a bored expression, watching the candidate carefully periodically.
There had been a repeating pattern - each candidate had asked for more details of their expected role and duties about the job, the industry or business they were to be in. They tried to point out the vagueness of the advertised description - "Customer Relations and Development". Some made efforts to sound polite and soft as they asked for clarification, the others were more direct, a few even let show their anger and frustration.
"How can you expect us to show our qualification, if you are not clear about your job Mr. Ken?!!" one had demanded.
The two interviewers and the interpreter had patiently dealt with each. Each candidate had been asked about themselves - to state their background and anything they wished to share. They had each been asked same or similar trick question.
"How would they go about distributing a 100 million dollars an year to the truly needy and deserving people so that the greatest good could come of it?"
Most candidates had been impatient with such 'trick' questions and wanted to get to some 'real life, practical questions, that has some connection to their roles in the "Customer Relations and Development". They tried to give a quick, off-the-top-of-the-head or clever reply and move on. They found the interviewers were strangely stuck on that theme for long and when the interview was called over, they assumed they had not done well enough to get past to the stage where they would be asked the serious, real questions. They felt it was the interviewer's fault for wasting their time on frivolous questions and affecting their chances. Some walked out seething.
The interviewers sometimes chuckled on hearing the just departed candidate venting outside the room loud enough for them to hear.
"Time waste!"
"What are they trying to do and waste all the time in useless questions?"
"I'll tell my friend not to bother coming in tomorrow."
Some candidates sincerely tried to answer the questions to the best of their ability and understanding. Overall, it had been very interesting for the interviewers. They made careful notes and remembered the more interesting interactions.
Many asked if the money HAD to be spent within the year or a fixed time limit?
"Yes, it has to be," said Billy,"else it will keep adding to the next years target and that would become an even bigger load!"
That stumped a few, but they all got the message that it was important for the money to be spent within the year or their own performance would be rated as not good and perhaps they would suffer a penalty in their compensation. That seemed so odd, when there was apparently so much money lying around to be given away!
One candidate had 'cleverly' posed a few counter questions to arrive at a solution.
"Assuming I get the job, do I have to prove to my boss in every case that the person I want to give the money to is needy and deserves it?" he asked
"No. In that case we may not need you at all and your boss could probably do your job," said Ken speaking slowly and clearly.
The smart one then asked,"Can I give it to ANYONE I honestly believe is needy and deserves it without having to prove it to you everytime?"
"Yes, of course, you may," Billy had said casually.
"What if I believe I need it, or my family or friends need and deserve it? Can I keep the money or give to them?" he pushed further cheekily.
"Yes, of course. You may," said Billy with an almost bored expression.
"Then problem solved, Sir! Just trust me and give me the job. I will get it done," said the candidate, all smiles.
"How?" asked Ken quietly.
"Trust me, Sir, I WILL need the money! Your problem solved. Mine also!!," he could barely contain himself.
There were smiles all around.
Miss. Tara, wanting to sound honest and professional, had suggested contributing to known 'trusted' charities and working with a a few of their representatives. Once set up, it could go on almost indefinitely and it would be easy for her to manage.
"But then, why would one need your position? Why can the business not set it up themselves?" posed Ken.
"That is also what I am wondering, honestly, Sir," said Tara.
"Well, we have to think about what you said, Miss. Tara," said Billy and the interview proceeded for a little longer.
Tara, was still not at ease, the question seemed to nag at her.
She too, boldly started to ask counter questions about the trick question.
"I suppose if you wanted to give money to established charities you would not need a hypothetical job like you described. Obviously, you want to do something different. Let me try again to solve the problem, Sir. So you mean I can give money to anyone on the street or anywhere, who I think is deserving?"
"Yes, Miss. Tara, by pretending that it is a real job description. What would you do?"
"I could go out everyday, carrying cash or chequebook or credit card and walk the streets around the city, go to the hospitals and distribute money to those I can see are needy and poor," said Tara.
"Okay, so how much cash would you carry? Or credit card? Can you describe your typical work day for us?"
"Can I work out something quickly and tell you, Sir," asked Tara.
"Sure! Go ahead Miss. Tara," said Ken smiling. He offered her a sheet of paper and pencil from a box on the table.
"If it is one hundred million dollars a year that I am personally responsible for, Sir, that comes to be about 6.7 billion rupees a year. Dividing by 365, it will be..," she started to calculate on a calculator on her mobile phone.
"Over 18 million rupees a day at that rate," said Billy casually.
Tara was surprised at the quick answer of Billy and its closeness to the real answer.
"Oh, that is very close to the real answer, Sir," she proceeded, "So, per hour, dividing by 24..."
"Miss. Tara, do you think a person can work 365 days a year, 24 hours a day without a break?" asked Billy almost sleepily.
Suddenly, Tara was flustered at herself, for not making this as real as possible, even in an exercise.
"Sorry, Sir. My mistake. I am sorry," she said with feeling,"I should take it more seriously. With holidays and weekends, I think I could work 250 days a year. For 10 hours a day sir?" She wanted to show and prove the long hours she was willing to put in.
"Really, Miss. Tara? Would that be a healthy way to work 10 hours every working day? What about your daily commute? Your sleep and family? We only expect people to work an eight hour day," Billy said it in a serious tone, even while smiling softly.
"Ok, Sir! I will recalculate... With public holidays and annual leave," she started
"Let us say, it is roughly 240 days of work a year," said Billy, leading her on
"Ok, Sir, then at eight hour days..." she started to calculate,
"What about lunch and work breaks, Miss. Tara?" the quiet Ken, seemed to want to throw her an extra challenge teasingly.
"OK. Mr. Ken. I will adjust that and calculate...240 days and seven hours each day," she started to key in the numbers
"That will be close to 4 million rupees an hour," said Billy lazily but it was well before Tara could finish working it out.
Tara was impressed with the apparent speed of Billy's calculations, but was lost in figuring out the correct numbers in the interview.
"That is correct, Sir," she said.
"Now, what?" asked Ken, "How will you plan to give away money to deserving people at the rate of 4 million rupees per hour. If you dont' give it away, it will accumulate interest sitting in some account and it will become more."
"It is going to be difficult, Sir, but I think it can be done. It should be easier to spend that much money in an hour properly than making that much in an hour honestly," she said casually, trying to buy time to think it out.
Ken and Billy perked up at her last remark.
"Let us assume that all the money we are talking about is made and spent honestly and above board, Miss. Tara," said Ken.
The interview went on and other candidates came and went. The answers to the 'trick' question were mostly in jest, some a bit semi-serious and a few a bit different.
In a little while, the middle-aged man was called in.
"Hello, Mr. Sharma. Good afternoon," Ken greeted him first as he entered the room.
Copyright (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved
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