I used to be a Recruiter. Over the course of one week, I would interview anywhere from eight to 20 people. Interviews are tedious, and after a while, the answers became just as repetitive and dull as the questions. So to keep myself entertained, and to mess with people, I would throw in a completely irrelevant and bizarre question at the end of the interview.
“And finally: if you were a car, what would you be?”
A young man just out of business school told me he’d be a Rolls Royce and I thought: status, image. A mother of two told me she’d be a monster truck and I thought: strong, powerful. The young man ended up leaving the job I placed him in, after only a month, for one with a better title. The woman worked on an undesirable shift for less than a year before she was given a hefty promotion.
The answers ended up being so telling that I have started considering this question in my personal life. I frequently try to figure out what car my friends and family would be. I even ask prospective dates what they’d be.
The current gentleman who I am speaking to with romantic intentions had this to say: “If the question is meant to place my current personality in a car then I’d probably be a Honda Ridgeline or Chevy Avalanche or some other half pickup. Sturdy, dependable, not so flashy, but a hard worker. If the question is what I would wish… then a Porsche Boxster. Classy, sleek, very well engineered. Like a George Clooney of cars, not some douchey Ferrari or Lamborghini that’s hanging out at clubs. A Porsche takes you to a classy restaurant for dinner then a piano bar for drinks and conversation.” Ahem, oh my!
My friend, Ange, believes herself a convertible, basking in every sunrise and sunset and sleeping under the stars. Ange is, indeed, an earthly woman who is very mindful and appreciative of her surroundings. But I might also add that her door would always be open and she’d have large bench seats, optimal for snuggling.
My brother-in-law thinks he’d be a work van, helping to carry a heavy load and serve a bigger purpose. This is pretty accurate; he is about to become a father for the second time.
I can’t figure out what car my sister would be, but it would be comfortable and durable and come fully loaded with every resourceful gadget to help you get through the most unexpected of obstacles.
My sister-in-law jokingly said that she’d be a taco truck because she loves tacos. I actually love this answer because she is adorable and creative. She is also fun and welcoming, so people gather around her for a good meal and laughs.
My brother’s answer was boring, so I’m ignoring it. He’d be the best car you can possibly imagine or ever want to be. Only he’s been driving around for a little too long, ignoring the warning lights. Thankfully, he’s decided the car is good enough to take in to the shop for some upgrades.
My parents took me a while to figure out. My mom would be a parked car. It doesn’t run but not because it’s broken. Despite popular opinion, there’s actually nothing wrong with it at all. It’s just been so long since it’s been driven that it no longer knows how. Instead, it has to be towed around behind a larger vehicle. My dad would be a bulldozer; no explanation needed.
My answer’s easy: I’m a vintage Volkswagen bug! Conceived by a regime with questionable ideals but (arguably) good intentions, I was built to be basic but durable; a car for the masses. Then I was damaged and got pretty rusted up. Now I’ve been fully restored and am somehow better and stronger than originally built. No longer the people’s car, but extremely desirable to some. That, and I generally make people want to punch each other. 🙂