You know the scenario. You’re at an old high school friend’s baby shower, and her smug cousin with a Bugaboo and her own book deal, strides over to you and asks you the question you’ve been dreading all day.
“So, what do you do?”
You really don’t want to answer this question and you run through a few smart-arse responses in your head:
“I’ve been unemployed for three months now so I do a lot of the Oprah Winfrey Network and Keeping Up with the Kardashians. You?”
“I sit in a cubicle all day doing data entry and dreaming about my next holiday to Bali with Ketut.”
“I work for ASIO actually. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t want my cover to be blown.”
“Not a lot! Hahahaha!”
But in the end you just mumble a few lines from your job description and avoid eye contact, waiting for her to seek out her next victim. Before you even speak, you feel like your answer is lacking somehow.
In reality you know she’s not a villain. She’s just asking the same tired question we all ask when we meet someone new.
I’m completely guilty of asking this question myself as soon as I’m put in a new social situation with someone I don’t know. It’s a social ice breaker, it’s a fast way to try to find some common ground with someone and, you know, we’re kind of expected to ask it.
But you know what else it is? It’s lazy and it’s limiting and it’s probably stopped all of us from connecting with people better.
Often what someone does for a living is the least interesting thing about them.
This question ties people’s identity and self-worth to their career. And sadly, I think it leads us to subconsciously, and sometimes deliberately, make snap judgements about a person based on what they do for a living. It makes us assess that person’s success based on how they make money and how impressed we are by it. It leads us to make assumptions about a person’s personality, upbringing and goals based on their job and their income.
The way we react to their answer totally gives us away too.