Unforgettable Answers to 5 Stupid Job Interview Questions

In order to get hired, you’ve got to be remembered.

You want a better job. We all want better jobs. Recent reports suggest that even as the job market continues to rebound from the COVID crisis, many young workers still find themselves underemployed. If you’re reading this, you are probably one of them.

You likely stride into your subsequent interview with a belly full of fire, and a brain stuffed full of all the right words to say, and the right ways to say them. You’ve carefully crafted your pitch so as to embody the can’t miss candidate; the person who will blend seamlessly into the corporate culture from day one.

And then you never hear back

That’s the problem with blending in. While it will likely insulate you from viscerally negative reactions, you also run the risk of simply fading into the abyss of power suits and monochromatic ties like an impeccably pressed strip of human wallpaper. Nobody wants to hire the wallpaper.

While blending in might offer the safest path to middle management once you are successfully matriculated into the organization, to get hired, you’ve got to stand out.

Here now, are bold answers to five of the most inane job interview questions that we’ve all had to endure for too many times on the path to a paycheck. These answers are guaranteed will burn you onto the brain of any HR manager like a jailhouse tattoo. And “remembered” is the first step toward “hired.”

Question #1: “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

Answer: “No thank you, good sir or madam, I brought my own.”

Blame the proliferation of water coolers and instant coffee in the 1980s. Now you can’t so much as wander accidentally into a corporate workspace without being bombarded with offers of beverages. Thanks a lot, Reagan.

While the offer may appear innocent enough, in theory, it has sent many an intrepid job candidate into pre-interview dry heaves. Will declining the gesture of hospitality seem ungracious? Will requesting that my interviewer serve me come off as presumptuous? Will my sugar and cream specifications be perceived as demanding? Is it weird that I put sugar and cream in my water?

The best way to avoid this crisis of etiquette is preparation. Show your interviewer that not only are you proactive, but you plan ahead. Remove from your handbag, satchel, or backpack (apparently it’s okay for grown-ups to carry those now) a bottle of your favorite vodka and two water bottles. Pour half the vodka into each water bottle, and smoothly slide one to the interviewer.

This will show not only that you are a team player, but also that you possess the utmost discretion. To any unsuspecting passersby, it will simply appear that the two of you are just a couple of khaki-clad corporate cogs chatting over delicious designer waters. But you’ll know better, and so will the interviewer. Now that the two of you share a dirty little secret, you will most certainly be remembered, and, if your new drinking buddy can hold their liquor, maybe even hired!

Question #2: “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Answer: “Well, the parole ends in three, so provided we’ve survived the zombie apocalypse…”

This question has torpedoed more first dates than The Rules, and it’s even worse in a job interview. In a world where companies and entire industries are changing moment to moment, not to mention the looming threat of the flesh-eating undead, it’s presumptuous to assume that the human race will still be solvent in five years, let alone a mobility aggregation start-up in Hoboken.

What you really want to convey is that you envision an upward trajectory for yourself, and anticipate the type of personal growth that will make you a greater asset to the company as time passes. Re-gaining the ability to travel out of state is a concrete example of how the attainment of a tangible personal goal will also make you a more valuable employee.

Your somber acknowledgment of the zombie apocalypse will demonstrate your willingness to grapple with unpleasant possibilities — an inevitability in every business. As the old saying goes, hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and stock up on canned meats and fish antibiotics for impending Armageddon.

Or they’ll think you’re joking and remember you for your irreverent sense of humor. At least until a zombie is munching their cerebral cortex.

Question #3: “Can you explain the gap in your employment?”

Answer: “The Gap is an American-based casual clothing retailer, commonly located in high volume shopping centers. They specialize in khakis, tees, and sweaters perfect for dads and grads.”

Sure, the interviewer probably wants to know the reason for the months (or years) left unaccounted for on your CV. What you want to tell them about are the many virtues of an iconic American clothier. They will almost certainly rephrase the question a time or two to bring you back to your spotty employment record.

Respond with Chino soliloquies and paeans to cotton v-necks. If you stay the course, your enthusiasm will win out. After all, even HR people have to buy casual wear. Before you know it, your interviewer will be chiming in with the story of the time they scored three fleece pullovers for the price of one, and you will forever be associated in their minds with something awesome (socially acceptable clothing at an affordable price), not something unnerving (repeated spells of unemployment and the unsightly addiction and incarceration that may have precipitated them).

Question #4: “If I called your boss right now and asked about your greatest flaw, what would they say?”

Answer: “Right now? Like this moment? Probably ‘lying about having to take off of work to begin spasmodic leprosy treatment, and then going on a job interview with my biggest competitor. I freaking hate you guys, and now I hate my latest former employee as well.’ So don’t do that crap. Not cool, HR dude or dudette, not cool.”

Seriously, the quickest route to the firing line is word getting out that you’re taking interviews. Granted, your interviewer is probably just using this as a hypothetical to make you evaluate yourself from an outside perspective, but the fact that they not only formed, but verbalized the thought means the notion is now on the table, and it’s your job to clear it off before the salad gets served.

By emphasizing the rivalry between your present and future employers, you are turning this rancid lemon of a question into cayenne pepper lemonade. You’re reminding your interviewer that not only would poaching you be robbing an arch-rival of a key resource, but it would also personally tick off that mouth-breather that stole their Assistant Director of Synergy Scalability, and that everyone suspected was shot to the gills with Botox when they delivered that grandstanding keynote address at last year’s industry conference bocce retreat.

Question #5: “What is your availability?”

Answer: [Prolonged gasp and clutching of the chest. ]“What?!? My relationship status has zero relevance to this interview, nor bearing upon my abilities to perform the job in question, good sir or madam! If you are intimating that the fate of my candidacy may hinge upon my willingness to accompany you to happy hour at the Olive Garden, then I’ll have you know that such an insinuation is in violation of federal law, and likely several state statutes, unless this company is located in Texas or West Virginia.

Oh, what? WHAT? Now you want to speak? No. You have already spoken. Now it’s my time to be heard, and I will not be silenced! I am not a slab of flank steak, to be ogled and prodded by your lascivious eyes and sweaty fingers. I’m a human being, damn it! My life has value!

And that value is 25% over the posted salary for this position, plus an additional week of vacation, and a completely superfluous “Senior” added to my title. And, if you make it TGI Fridays instead of Olive Garden, I’ll join you for one Mudslide, if that part is really a deal-breaker. But no grabby-gropey stuff.”

Nothing scares a corporate drone senseless like potential litigation, and nothing screams “potential litigation” like perceived sexual harassment. As such, any human resources representative worth their benefits binder has been rigorously trained in the art of defusing such potentially costly misunderstandings. That’s why you must escalate the situation from zero to 100 with the explosiveness of an Italian sports coupe and the righteous indignation of a newly grounded teenager declaring life’s eternal unfairness to their oppressive parental figures.

Cut every protestation and increasingly flustered attempt at explanation off with your frenetic barrage of dizzying disbelief and tearfully rendered affirmations of self-worth until your interviewer’s primary objective moves from explanation to placation.

Best case scenario, you get the job and a free Mudslide, over which you can begin making peace with your new employer. But if not, you’ll probably walk out the door with a settlement check modest enough not to make the higher-ups get contentious, but sizable enough that you can delay your job search by a few months from a beach in the Caribbean, while stories of your epic interview echo through hallowed HR offices the world over.