What question would she lead with, this total stranger who could ask me anything in the whole world?

What’s your favourite word in the English language? What was the first thought you had when you looked at yourself in the mirror this morning? What question do you most hate to answer?

I held my breath... “Why do you want this job?” she asked, and I sighed.

In the 1880s, long before he claimed his status as one of the world’s greatest authors, a young Marcel Proust filled out an English-language questionnaire given to him by his friend Antoinette, daughter of France’s then-president, as part of her “confession album”.

Essentially a Victorian version of modern day personality tests, it was designed to reveal the answerer’s tastes, aspirations, and sensibility in a series of simple questions.

Decades later, Vanity Fair resurrected the tradition and started publishing various public figures’ answers to the Proust questionnaire in every issue. 

It featured some of the most fascinating personalities of our time, from Jane Goodall and Lauren Bacall to Salman Rushdie and Martin Scorsese. David Bowie said that they were the kinds of questions he could ask himself every day and give different answers each time. 

What is your idea of perfect happiness? What do you consider your greatest achievement? What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Universal questions that cause us to reflect on what it means to be human. Perfect for a job interview.

Susan Cain, the author of the bestselling book The Power of Introverts, says that in most job interviews, employers say they are looking for people skills and emotional intelligence. “That's reasonable, but the question is, how do we define what that looks like? What questions do we ask?”

She goes on to say that by using variations of the same dozen or so questions we’ve been asking for decades – by trying to fit people’s emotional intelligence and unique experiences into convenient boxes – we limit our understanding and the potential to recruit extraordinary characters into our organisations.

I thought of this the other day as I tried to make an answer about budgeting sound intriguing. 

If only I’d been asked whether I was a dog or cat person. Or if I’d ever danced in the street? 

If I were a packet of potato chips, what flavour would I be? What do I do with the sticky labels off fruit? Can I recite a poem from memory?

I really could have wowed them.

Walking to my car after the interview, I imagined the panel going through their notes. 

“I think we should give it to the guy who recited William Carlos Williams’ Red Wheelbarrow poem.” 

“You mean the avocado and lime potato chip chap? Yeah, he seems totally awesome.”