Describe your father.
This was one of the questions I was asked in an interview for a position I applied for in a prestigious auditing firm in Ayala, Makati sometime in 1986 or 1987.
Describe your father.
It’s not really a question. It’s an imperative sentence.
The interviewer was requesting me to describe my father. I knew that my acceptance to the firm I so longed to belong would depend on how I answered this question.
What does my father have to do with my job? Oh, I know. They want to know how I was raised. They want to know about my relationship with my father.
It should have been so easy to answer because I had been very fond of my father. I was daddy’s little girl.
I remember he used to make a lot of jokes. There was this trick that he pulled up on me and my sister. He pretended that he picked his nose with his index finger. Then he would lick his middle finger. He did it so quickly that we thought he licked the finger that was just up his nose. He always got a good laugh from us.
He liked music. He had vinyl records of The Platters, The Commodores, The Temptations and the like and he would play them over and over and the music would fill the house. He also had a harmonica and he sometimes played out a few tunes before he went to bed.
Sometimes he would ask me to pull out his gray hairs. I remember how I liked combing my fingers through his naturally curly and thick hair. Mine was very straight and I hated it. Whenever I was searching for his gray hairs, my mother would come and point out to me that he had seven puyo (cowlick on the head). “It is very unusual for anybody to have seven puyo,” my mother would say. “Old folks believe that a person who has several puyo is stubborn or is always looking for trouble.” And she’d flash me a smile.
I could have told all these things to the interviewer. But I thought that she’d find all these answers very childish.
Describe your father.
I winched at my seat, my palms sweating profusely.
My father is an alcoholic. He beat up my mother really bad and they separated. He stole money from her. My mother went to work abroad so she could put my sister and me through college. And we were left to live with relatives. My father still drinks and is living with one relative to the next.
These were the thoughts that were playing in my head at that time. But I couldn’t tell these to the interviewer. What kind of daughter would I look like saying this kind of things about my father?
Describe your father.
I tried to gather the right words to say.
My father is a simple man with simple dreams. He is a smart man and he spent a lot of times with me when I was little. He helped me with my homework. He explained Math to me and showed me tricks on how to solve number problems. This is why I think I am very good in Math and wanted to be an accountant. There was also a time when he stayed up late with me one night to help me finish my Art project.
I don’t know if it was my answer, but I didn’t get a call back from that prestigious auditing firm.
August 16, 2006 at 1:45 am
my dad too is alcoholic.i drink occasionally but i dont want to be alcoholic and repeat what my dad did to my mom.alcoholism is one ground why a perfect family breaks into pieces.
August 16, 2006 at 9:48 pm
That’s true noypiako. It affects not just the alcoholic but the people around him/her.
August 18, 2006 at 10:52 am
My father is far lot dumber person than me.
August 22, 2006 at 10:53 pm
Jerry, I think your father is smarter than you think, for he made sure that you turn out to be smarter than him.
November 21, 2006 at 6:05 pm
Tough, tough question, indeed!
But had I been asked that question, I would have spontaneously answered, “A loving husband, a wonderful father and provider, but died too early due to alcohol. And I terribly miss him to this day.”
You’d be surprised how many people, especially in America are adversely affected directly or indirectly of alcoholism. And I suspect that a more spontaneous candid response was what they were looking for since it was an accounting firm.
I was once asked an off-the-wall kind of question once, and it was my spontaneous response that got me the job. It was also the fourth and final series of interviews in that firm that I had to be subjected to and I was already drained by then. I will blog about it ’cause it’s too long a store for this comment box
November 23, 2006 at 11:03 pm
You’re probably right. I should have just said the first thoughts that came to mind. But this interview happened when I was still in the Philippines and alcoholism was not a subject that is openly discussed in our society. Also I was just recently out of college, very shy, naive and inexperienced. So all those things may also be the reasons why I didn’t get the job.
I wish I could say that my father was a loving husband and a wonderful provider. Too bad he wasn’t.
Will look forward to reading that experience of yours.
November 25, 2006 at 12:16 am
I understand now. I didn’t get it at first. But I read all the entries in this blog and I am truly touched. I also understand why you like Frank McCourt’s memoirs so much.
I admire you for your courage and your strength.
After all you’ve been through, you still have what it takes to raise three absolutely wonderful boys.
November 26, 2006 at 12:38 am
Thank you for taking the time reading the entries. I know it’s hard for people who haven’t dealt with alcoholism to understand what it’s really like. It’s really tough. It affects not just the alcoholic but also the people around him/her. And the damage/effects can sometimes take a lifetime.
But I can’t let the damage that has been done cripple me. Life goes on and I have to be brave and strong for the children’s sake, the loves of my life.