That time I failed a personality test

on summer jobs and numbing out

1.

Summer, 1990. I was home after my first year of college, and needed a job. A Fayva shoe store¹ within walking distance had a Help Wanted sign in the window.

Not the actual Fayva I applied to work in, but similar. Also this obviously isn’t from 1990, because of that minivan.

When I applied, the manager told me they were doing something new. A personality test, to make sure applicants were a good fit. It was multiple choice, about thirty questions. I sat on the low bench where you were supposed to try on shoes, clipboard on my lap, and filled it out. I wasn’t worried. I have a great personality! I can sell shoes.

The questions weren’t about shoes, but about if I liked talking to people, if I ever lost my temper, if I had a habit of running late, or of oversleeping.

I handed the manager my clipboard and waited while he made a phone call and read my answers over the phone. (It was 1990, this was the only option other than mailing it in.) I wandered around, looking at shoes, wondering how it would be to sell them, listening to the manager say, “5, C. 6, A. 7, D.”

He hung up the phone and said, “I’m sorry, your answers indicate that you’re not a good match.” Did I laugh? I felt like laughing. I would be so good at this job! He seemed embarrassed, but how can anyone argue with a personality test?² I thanked him and walked out, stunned.

2.

Which was it? Which answer made me unhireable? There could only be one, the one that I hadn’t known how to answer. “If you found out a friend was doing drugs, would you tell someone?” I remember thinking, what does this have to do with shoes? I couldn’t tell if it was better to be a narc or loyal to a friend. I decided to answer truthfully. Loyalty. I’m no narc.

3.

I crossed the street and applied for a job at the movie theater, where I was hired. There was no personality test. I promised to show up on time, and I always did. I could get into any of the movies for free, and eat as much popcorn as I wanted to. The movies of the summer of 1990: Ghost, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, My Blue Heaven, Total Recall, Days of Thunder, Flatliners. All perfect movies to see for free (except Ford Fairlane, which I never watched all the way through).

This is the actual movie theater where I worked (although not in 1990, because of the movies). And now it’s not there anymore. It’s a restaurant.

4.

I needed a job walking distance from my house because I had neither a license nor a car. I didn’t mind walking, though. Here, in 2025, I realize I have no memory of how long the walk was, how far. I only remember walking with my backpack on, looking at houses and in shop windows (and avoiding the Fayva). I did a lot of thinking. I just looked it up: 1.8 miles. A good distance for a walking commute.

5.

The other employees at the movie theater were mostly my age. The movies all started around the same time, so we’d have lulls when everyone was in the dark theaters and we were in the lobby, restocking cups and wiping handprints off the glass candy case. We talked about life and plans and college, and played around with how to make the best possible popcorn.³

A few people were older. The manager and assistant manager. A cashier at the front who sold tickets. During the lulls, the ticket seller would leave the theater and walk down the street to a bar. Sometimes, if it was a long shift, she’d be pretty sauced by the time she had to sell tickets to the late show.

I swept up spilled popcorn and gave her space.

Do you like talking to people? Have you lost your temper?

6.

I was late to getting my driver’s license. Like I said, I liked walking. But that summer felt like the right time. I took lessons from a local driving school, picked up on Saturday mornings so I could practice driving around for an hour and learn how to start a manual transmission on a hill without stalling.⁴

One morning, my driving instructor was blearier than usual. He told me to pull over at a diner so he could use the bathroom, saying, “I had a rough night last night.” I sat in the car and wondered if the time he was inside shaking off his hangover would be deducted from my hour of driving.

Do you have a habit of running late or oversleeping?

I would 1000% wear these right now.

7.

One night I worked at the theater until closing. It was after midnight, dark, and my manager was giving the assistant manager a ride home—did I want one too? Yes. I sat in the back seat while they passed a joint back and forth.

“Julie,” said my manager.

“What? Oh, no thank you, I’m good,” I said.

“No,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Would you tell if you found out one of your friends was doing drugs?

I suppose this was one reason I was better suited for the movie theater job.

8.

I remember all of this and wonder: was everyone messed up all the time in the 80s and 90s? All of the drinking and drugs, an open secret.

I don’t think it was unusual. It was just that it was the available numbing agent of choice. I am glad there were no cell phones in 1990, because those long walks to and from work would have been much different for me.

People finding a way to be numb is nothing new. And it’s not even always terrible. Go ahead and watch crappy movies while eating ice cream. I’m not going to stop you.

There have been various ways to numb out for thousands of years, but the past few decades have been a rolling snowball of numbing distractions. It’s not like we shed one when a new one arrives. It’s not like “here’s a new social media platform, so we’re going to get rid of those little pouches of tobacco.” No. Now we have both, and dozens more. I have written before about how much harder it is to avoid the pull of our phones given that we carry them around with us all the time. (Yes, weed and beer are portable too, but not quite in the same socially-sanctioned way that carrying our phones around is.)

Cal Newport had a podcast about whether or not we’ve gotten dumber since 2012. He gave it a solid maybe, but then used the analogy of the rise of knowledge work in the 50s. Suddenly office workers were sitting all day, instead of spending the day milking cows and swinging axes, and the solution was intentional exercise (Jane Fonda, Jazzercise, aerobics, jogging).

And so, now, we need to be intentional about how we’re using all of the numbing distractions that are flying around.

This is still what I imagine when I think of computers and tech and the world we’re living in.

Numbing is the flip side of flow. Both can (temporarily) alleviate discomfort and bad feelings, but one is consumption and one is production. One is inputs, one is output and creation. You need both, really. You are allowed to have your social media (your Substack, if you want), your glass of wine, your feed. But not all day. And not when it’s all inputs and no outputs.

Sometimes I’m tired and I just want to look at memes. (And sometimes I’m tired and a better choice would be to take a nap.)

Expect discomfort. Expect a desire to numb. And then pay attention to what balance feels best.

For me, so much of it is about slowing down and paying attention. How does this feel, this thing right now? If I want to scroll, why? What am I avoiding? So often I have to just stand up and walk away from my phone and computer. I will read. I will take notes. I will stare into space.

Those walks to the movie theater, and all of the walks that came before them, set me up for a writing life. The seeds for so many of my books come from being outside, walking, and noticing.

9.

Thinking about this essay, I went for a long walk and left my phone at home. I walked a few miles with nothing but my thoughts. I’d like to tell you I had a huge bolt of inspiration, but no, it was quiet. My mind meandered. But it wandered on its own, not guided by someone else’s voice in my ears.⁵

10.

I wouldn’t change the answer that prevented me from being hired at Fayva. You are you. It’s none of my business how you spend your time. I’m not going to tell anyone if you spend a full week scrolling Tiktok. I’m no narc.

What is a narc? (Ok, yes, I know what a narc is, but what is it TO ME, someone who is never around drugs?) What is a narc underneath it all? A narc, a specific sort of tattletale, is someone who says: “I’m better than you. I matter more than you.” I wasn’t someone who would let my friends steal shoes, although for sure that’s how it was interpreted. So many people on the internet have that narc vibe—ready to tell on you, to drag you, ready to point at someone else and say, “look at this person who is way worse than me!” Which is a convenient way to avoid doing any real work.

I have noticed lately that much of what I see on the internet is content created solely to be able to post something, and not even in an interesting way. It’s dull. It’s boring. Have we reached a turning point? How long can we all keep looking at this stuff? I can’t take much more of it.

It’s hard to be a human sometimes, but we’re all in this together. I see you. Where are you going? Stay here, right here. (Not in this essay, this isn’t a hostage situation.) Numbing out is the easy path for today. Doing the work is the harder path, but the one that future you will be grateful for.

Be intentional about how long you’re numbing yourself, letting yourself be distracted, and why. Let yourself be, wherever you are, whoever you are. Let yourself space out. So much good comes from daydreaming, from slowly noticing, from feeling things and believing in yourself. Know that your mind can come up with great things if you let it. And trust that you’ll answer the personality test as you’re meant to.

Thoughts and Links

• Talking Heads released the official video to Psycho Killer almost fifty years after the song first came out, and it stars Saoirse Ronan.

• Why not look through someone else’s window?

• A beautiful essay about grief and feelings.

• I’m really enjoying the Inquire Within Reflection Deck from Worthwhile Paper / Kristen Drozdowski. It had been on my wish list for a while (after reading about Kristen on Heidi’s newsletter), and then I was lucky enough to win it from a giveaway with the amazing Off the Grid podcast. Anyway, it’s great.

• Love this chart of foil-wrapped camping meals from Julia Turshen.

• I am currently obsessed with this dill pickle dip. I have been making it as an appetizer (who am I? we never have APPETIZERS) and serving it with ruffled potato chips and it’s amazing. It’s made with yogurt so we are all laughing about how it’s “healthy” and “full of protein” as we shovel it in via potato chips, classically the best vehicle for healthy food. Obviously if you hate pickles, no. But if you like them, you’ll like this. You can make it while the rest of dinner is cooking. Or even forget “the rest of dinner” and say that tonight dinner is dill pickle dip, like we’re in Mermaids (another movie from 1990! but from December, so it wasn’t playing over the summer).

Books I read recently and loved

Disclosure: book links in this newsletter are affiliate links to Bookshop.org, a site which supports independent bookshops.

• Otto and the Story Tree by Vivien Mildenberger is a lovely and sweet book that had me fooled with its title. I was picturing a main character sitting under a tree, telling stories. And, oh wait, yes, it is that, but how he gets there (both actually and internally) is completely unexpected.

• The Lost Library by Rebecca Stead and Wendy Mass is a perfect book. Mystery, cats, ghosts, and a Little Free Library.

1. Fayva was a kind of proto-Payless/DSW.

2. Please argue with personality tests.

3. Let the oil get very hot before adding the kernels.

4. I know my mom is reading this, and she will want me to tell you that she tried to teach me to drive and the anxiety of it all caused her to laugh so hard she couldn’t tell me what to do, and so we made the mutual and wise decision to hire someone else to teach me.

5. I love audiobooks and podcasts, but sometimes I truly need to rip out my earbuds and leave them at home.