My job interview from hell

We all had them – job interview from hell that leaves you drained, upset and second guessing yourself. Once you land a job, you are too busy to recall what you went through.
So for all of you (potential) jobseekers, when you feel like you had the worst interview in history – read the following stories and smile. And whatever you do, don’t doubt yourself!

In 2004, I went for my third job interview at an Israeli biotech company in Hackensack, New Jersey. I had met their female Vice President half a year ago during an event in NYC, where she told me that the company was looking for someone like me. “Bingo!” I thought.
We set up a second interview at their premises. Despite a constant email exchange between the the VP (aptly named “Asia” considering her country of origin), she was not in the office to interview me, since "she was out of the country on business".
So I double checked this time, and was informed that she was ready to see me. So far, so good….

My b-f drove me to my job interview and told me not to worry about him and to take as much time as I needed. (A prince among men, non?)
I went in at 11 am and stumbled out at 12.30am. The interview was a disaster.
Asia started by informing me that she is an excellent boss who never stabs people in the back. (Excuse me?) Furthermore, when she is unhappy, she will give her employees hell, but not in front of others.(how nice) “I am very loyal to my people, you see” she said. Needless to say, I did not see; my laser eye correction in 2000 must be less successful than I thought…

She told me that the present position is for a Director, but that she will appoint him/her as a manager, so “I can place another person over his/her head if I am unhappy”…(great HR)
She also told me: “Are you married? No? And you have no kids? Excellent! You can work long hours!” Thus neatly breaking several US laws.
She went on telling me that I have to work “at least twice as hard as I did before”.
Since I work an average of 10 hours a day, it would mean that I have to forfeit sleep, eat and other such unnecessary activities to meet her demands……I started to feel like Dilbert facing Catbert.
I asked about the financial situation of her company. The investment round only generated $1M. which is for a technology-driven company peanuts. They are under pressure to be commercial ASAP.
We did not discus salary, but she told me that all employees received a salary cut of 20%….She said that nobody left the company, despite the salary cuts. I wondered if that was because they are chained to the wall and cannot physically leave….I decided not to ask.
When asking “where I see myself in 2 years” she informed me that she loves to hear a candidate telling her that he/she wants her job. I looked at her nose, expecting it to grow like Pinocchio’s, but no such luck.

She also talked about the Israeli CEO as a “wonderful, caring, honest man” in a dreamy voice, looking at the ceiling with a smile around her lips - which gave me some clue about the dynamics in this company.
Her plan is simple: appoint a tandem consisting of a Marketing Director and a Business Development Director. Their successes are hers, the failures are theirs (and “off with their heads” as the Queen said in Alice in Wonderland).

She then went on criticizing and second-guessing all my qualifications, wondering if I was really “up to the job” and that she had “some reservations” about my being able to write materials. This did not stop her from making notes of all my suggestions and opinions that I am sure she happily implemented afterwards.
She polished it off by informing me that she had given me 1,5 hours (and not the standard 30 minutes) since I came in vain the previous time, thus nifty making me feel responsible for her messing up the previous time.
Her parting shot was the best: “I am interviewing 30 other people, but keep in touch, I expect questions from you by email”. (Sure, and please hold your breath until I do!)
I stumble out of the building, emotionally drained. B-f was very supportive (he always is!) and gave some colorful feedback harboring on character assassination. (Asia’s, not mine).
B-f knows me well, so he treated me to a wonderful lunch (salmon in a cream/mushroom sauce on a bed of wild rise with cooked asparagus + a glass of excellent dry white wine) to cheer me up. Guess what? It did the trick!
Needless to say, I never heard anything back, not even a polite “thank you, no thank you” email.

If you have horror stories in the job-searching field you would like to share, please do not hesitate to respond to this blog!

Maria, Eunice, Oprah - oh, la,la.....

Last week, I watched the interview of the mother/daughter Shriver/Kennedy tandem on Oprah. It was a bizarre experience….
As a rule, I don’t have a lot of patience for the Oprah Winfrey show. Don’t get me wrong, I admire the lady for the splendid career she carved out for herself, but she is just not my cup of tea (or Java, depending on the time of day).
After watching the excellent BCC television series “The Kumars at number 42”, I was just too lazy to zap on and watched the “first ever” interview with the governor of California’s wife and mother-in-law: Maria and Eunice Kennedy Shriver.
Since both of them are bright and talented women and witnesses up close and personal some of the most significant moments in recent history, I expected some original insights. What I got was a rerun of the “I love Lucy” show, sans wit.
Oprah announced Maria and immediately went into her star struck gushing mode.
The girls hugged each other, admired each other’s hairdo and promoted Maria’s latest fruit of the pen with almost indecent haste.
Maria looked like she just came from a funeral – long sleeved, sequined 50s-style dress that looked like it came from Lucy’s wardrobe.
Maria started talking about her upbringing - everything the Shrivers did and do is about public service. So instead of talking about school, culture, history, the dinner table topic was “how to make the world a better place”.
Unsuspected guests were coerced into answering the pater familias’ favorite question: “What are you going to do to make a difference?” while looking at pictures of starving children in Africa, disabled kids, and children living in institutions. Poor Oprah was so intimidated that she took refuge in a closet. (Before you get any ideas, the reason that Oprah isn’t married had nothing to do with her coming out of the before mentioned cupboard. It also didn’t have a traumatic effect on her later development – just check how the Harpo Corporation is doing and you get my point).
Maria went on informing the gullible audience that the mater familias would place a piggy bank in the center of the dining room table once a week and serve her offspring cereal for dinner so they could donate what they would have spent on food that night to the poor. Ah the things the megarich do for the paupers…it brings tears to your eyes, especially since Maria informed
Mummy that they just loved eating cereal, which somehow strikes me as completely missing the aim of the exercise.
Maria kept emphasizing that their lives were never about “things,” only ideas. Easy to do when you are not distracted by the daily gritty life that the rest of us are struggling with.
Eunice came on stage as well, better dressed than her daughter and still in possession of her think Kennedy hair.
After more hugs and touchy stuff, Maria and Eunice told Oprah that they have never, ever, had a single fight. Yeah, and Al Gore invented the Internet.
Sounding a lot like Bush, they harped on about Family Values. Eunice said how important it is for family members to eat dinner together every night. “When I was growing up, I never saw my parents go out to dinner in a restaurant once in our whole life.”
Of course not, Rose stayed home and Joe was having a love fest with Gloria Swanson.
The Shriver-Schwarzenegger home is uncannily similar. Maria is the disciplinarian with her kids about going to church (mandatory Mass every week), having good manners and doing homework. Since the kids don’t have their own phones, Maria monitors every call. She happily announced that she is also trying to get access to their emails, which is trickier. Her 13-year old daughter, seated in the audience, threw her an “over my dead body” look. The girl has her father’s looks (enough said), but came across as a very sensible, grounded kid. I predict that she will be a handful.
Arnold was the next topic. Maria informed the masses that he is insanely strict when it comes to keeping the house clean, turning the lights off, and doing laundry. “He will call me from the capitol and ask, “Have they done the laundry?” Maria told Oprah. “Even worse, if the kids leave clothes on the floor, Arnold will scoop up the garment and throw it into the fire. Other items he finds out of place he’ll just hide around the house and never return. The Schwarzenegger kid confirmed this: “If you open up a cabinet, behind pots and pans, you'll find, like, a pair of shoes or something.”
Arnold also unscrews light bulbs when the kids leave the lights on, due to the energy crisis. So he tries to teach his brood about saving energy, but makes no bones about burning expensive clothes and shoes. Go figure.
Oprah also touched on the issue of Arnold running for president. Maria is (for now) dead-set against it. “I want him home” she announced forcefully. Considering their present living arrangements (he resides in Sacramento; they see each other once a week) and Schwarzenegger’s history of sexual escapades, I can’t blame her.
It is funny how all the Kennedy women (Rose, Ethel, Jacky, Maria) follow the same pattern: no matter how clever, educated and strong they are, they serve and obey their dominant spouses. Being staunch Catholics, divorce is out of the question.
Even Eunice, a talented campaigner for her brothers, who could have been a decent president if only given half the chance, is not only happy with her daughter giving up her own career, but even told her that she should have dropped the Shriver family name and go for Schwarzenegger. Her daughter correctly pointed out that she refers to herself as Eunice Kennedy Shriver. This issue was not pursued – Oprah probably didn’t want to start the first ever mother-daughter fight. Pity.
All in all, it the whole episode gave me a feeling of Lucy meets the Stepford Wives.
And about Arnold running for president, let’s keep our fingers crossed that the Constitution will remain unchanged – let’s not forget what happened the last time an Austrian became the leader of another country……

Size matters

Size does matter. This time, I am not referring to guys, but to women.
Guys have hang-ups about the size of their cars and gadgets; women have different size fixations.
When in comes to dressing, men are sensible: if it doesn’t fit, they don’t wear it.
A lot of women on the other hand love to follow fashion, no matter what.
So they wear outfits that are too tight, too short and don’t fit their coloring or body type at all. They harbor the misconception that they look elegant and sexy in these outfits, thus visually polluting their environment.
The sales chicks in boutiques, being young, slim and gorgeous, will happily inform their clientele that they look great. So would I if it would generate a nice commission.
Apart from tight tops that are most of the time also too short, the low riding pants are a huge favorite. These pants look great on skinny 16-year old girls – not on mature women. As a result, an unsightly roll of flesh spills over the waist of their too-tight pants.
This is referred to as the muffin top, since it resembles a muffin bursting out of the pan. If the front view is bad enough (the bulging belly button with or without piercing is enough to make any person anorexic), the tattoo on the hip or lower back adds to the horror scenario. Don’t get me wrong – ceremonial tattoos are great, just look at some African tribes and the Maoris. But zaftig white women – no, not really. And if you as a guy like to feast your eyes on lots of female flesh, just go to a Rubens exhibition – you will have a ball, trust me.

The other items that especially women want bigger and bigger are diamonds in engagement rings. This is an American phenomenon. European women prefer rings with colored stones; their American sisters (thanks to the clever marketing of De Beers) want a huge rock on their left hand. The richer hubby-to-be is, the bigger the stone. The self-proclaimed American Princess aka Paris Hilton aka the Heiress is used to major bling-bling. Her fiancé, also named Paris (after the Greek hero, which gives you an idea where this relationship is heading, just brush up on your Homer) bestowed some serious carats on his beloved. I’m talking about a size that you could spot from space. But a hand and finger can only support so much grams of compressed carbon daily, so Paris (the one named after the city) asked for a more manageable replacement. This teaches us all a lesson: as a woman, you can be too thin (in contrast to what the Duchess of Windsor used to proclaim) and your ring can be too big (oy, Harry Winston!)

So ladies, take my advice: go for properly fitting clothes and sport reasonable size jewelry. Go for quality, not for quantity. It makes life for you and especially your fellow citizens a lot more pleasant.

About reality - the showtime version

I don’t get it. In a time that the number of terror attacks in major cities and popular holiday destinations worldwide are increasing, so does the public's thirst for reality shows.
I find this bizarre, especially since they are in general quite boring.
But I have some suggestions to spice them up a bit.
Let’s first look what is around – thanks to cable and satellite: worldwide.

First, there are the dating ones – one guy/girl goes on dates with around 12 members of the opposite sex who have nothing better to do that being humiliated in front of millions. That of course explains why all of them were single to start with and will remain single long after the show’s grand finale. I must confess, I wouldn’t mind at all dating a bunch of losers in exotic (and 100% paid for!) locations.
My suggestion would be that they come to the home of the bachelorette and do useful stuff: fixing her washing machine, checking the tires and oil of her car, putting up shelves, entertaining that boring aunt during holidays, go shopping for groceries, etc. Let’s face it, getting roses is nice, getting rid of a tedious chore is great!

The next group is the swapping one – a person swaps lives with another frustrated person. Needless to say, this leads to misunderstandings, anger and – in short- extremely boring television. The switchers have boring lives to start with, so I don’t see the point. Now let’s put some substance in the concept. Let’s have Bush swap places for a few days with the president of France – that’s entertaining! They don’t have to worry about the language barrier-nobody listens to them anyway. It might even end the war in Iraq…

Then there is the misfit show – you put some celebrities on a remote farm or something like that and see them suffer. Funny enough, it seems that only the poor locals are suffering – the celebrities themselves survive very nicely. I suggest that they change the show’s concept and combine it with the swapping one. Let’s have Paris Hilton work as an underpaid maid in the Hilton Hotel in Guam, sans dog and beauty treatments of course.

Survivor shows are popular as well – a group of C-list actors are thrown together in the middle of a jungle and have to survive. Variation: they have to conquer their greatest fear by sticking their face in buckets with worms or cages with spiders. I didn’t hear the WWF complain about the mistreatment of those poor animals yet, which is a Serious Omission on their side.
Both of these shows are based on the wrong concept: we all know that the biggest fear of an actress in waking up with her original body before plastic surgery. So let’s make a show bout that – starting with Michael Jackson.

Peeping Tom shows follow a group of people or a small business (hair dresser, restaurant) 10+ weeks long for no apparent reason.
I strongly advise the makers to select a high tech company next time: weird people, lots of intrigue, scheming and backstabbing, topped off by a spectacular crash in the final episode. I will be happy to provide the script.

Apprentice shows – my favorites. A prospective employer gives a group of 10-15 candidates all kind of tasks over a 3-months period and declares a winner.
They are clever enough not to make the decision alone, but sharing the blame, but not the fame, with some of their minions or business friends. Good PR for them and the candidates make a cake of themselves, no matter how smart they are.
I like the concept: I would love to have my own. I will interview a bunch of people to become my cleaner. I will test them by giving them different cleaning tasks and rating them. After stretching this for weeks (and not paying them of course!) I will select one. My cat will be one of the judges. I know, that doesn’t make sense, but at least he has better hair than Donald T.

Networks love all these shows – cheap to produce and great viewers numbers, so the advertising dollars come rolling in.

The funny thing is, these reality shows have nothing to do with reality as we know it.
So what's the deal here? I wish George Orwell was around to make some sense of it all.....

I should have known better, but well, I didn’t….

It all started with an invitation for a marketing writing course that I received about a month ago. I got the invitation via a PR network, so I should have been warned…. It was organized by a company called ExperTeam, that specializes in technical writing. Since the current economic situation is bad, such companies have a tough time surviving. Due to the unemployment rate among marketing and technical writers (45%), companies prefer to hire laid-off writers that are dirt cheap, very experienced and are paid per hour. ExperTeam invited me to join their course, that took place on 8/2 from 6pm-8pm. It consisted of two parts – the first part “what is marketing writing” and the second part “how to write killer marketing material”.
Since I always want to improve myself, I thought it was a good idea to go. The costs were also OK, $10. (I did not even contemplated to ask this amount from my employer).

So I registered…and did not get a confirmation. So I emailed twice, to make sure I had a place. Finally, I got the confirmation with a map how to drive there. And then the fun started….

That whole day, Ibby (my boss) kept throwing work at me. When I told him that I had to leave that day at 5.30pm (I start at 8am, mind you), the reaction was 1) why so early 2) what for.
I was stupid enough to tell him. He replied it would be a waste of time. I was finally able to leave armed with the map that ExperTeam had faxed me. I don’t have the greatest sense of directions, but I was quite confident that I would find it. The map clearly showed that I had to turn right at the fifth traffic light on the main road into Main Street, so that would be easy enough, correct?
So I drove off…..already being tired and stressed.

All went well, and I turned right at the fifth traffic light. Wrong street name, so I parked, and went to ask directions. I asked the proprietress of a small kiosk that sells milk, cigarettes, snacks, and newspapers and also serves coffee. She did not know, but a customer sitting outside budded in, took my map and started to analyze it. Not very successfully, since he kept turning it around. After some minutes, I took the map back, and said I would ask at the petrol station. The customer looked insulted and said that he would have figured it out eventually. Yeah, sure, and I am a super model. The petrol station guy was very nice and helpful, and told me that he knew were Main Street was. I just had to turn left at the next traffic light. By that time, it was 6.10 pm, so it was cutting it close, but what the hack, I was almost there, right? Wrong!
I went back to my car (feeling hot and sweaty) and turned left at the traffic light as instructed. Lo and behold, the correct street name! Found a nice parking place, parked and saw that a high tech guy (pony tail, end 20s, must therefore be a software engineer) was getting into the car next to me. I thought that double checking would be a good idea, so I showed my map again, and he assured me that I was in the right place. He recognized all the streets, and pointed into the different directions to indicate them. I was very impressed and relieved.
So I went looking for ExperTeam at Main Street 6…..which turned out to be a Chinese Restaurant. By that time, I was very confused and nervous. I decided to ask a mother with a small child walking towards me – those ladies normally know all the streets. She was very nice and looked at my map. She told me that I was in the right street, but in the wrong village! Of course, I thought to myself, that explains a lot! She told me that I had to turn back to the main road, go to the left, 3 traffic lights and then to the right.
By that time, it was already 6.30pm, so I wondered if it was worth while to go. But since I am extremely stubborn, I could not give up. My feet were hurting and I started to get hungry (I didn't have a thing to eat since munching a salad at noon).
So I drove off again. By that time, I was smack in the middle of rush hour, so I was forced to move with the speed of a snail - a heavily medicated, doped out snail.
Finally, I arrived at the third traffic light and turned right. Guess what? Main Street is in the the middle of a cluster of buildings, without any numbers. Great!
I parked my car, took my map and walked into the first small building I saw – a small high tech firm. I asked the two young guys there if they could help me. They looked at the map and told me that ExperTeam should be in a building somewhere behind them. They did not know for sure, and happily informed me “nobody can find us as well”. This sentence was delivered with a big smile, so I wondered why they do not relocate.
I walked around and saw several clusters of small buildings. I suddenly saw an old sign with ExperTeam on it, so I followed it…and ended up in a playground! So I looked around and saw this itsy tiny sign “ExperTeam” on a building dwarfed by huge signs of other companies. Go figure.
By that time, it was 6.45pm…..But, in for a penny, in for a pound, so I went into the building. Nobody to be found, so I first looked for the restrooms since I drank lots of water on the way. I walked around, and finally a guy talking loudly on his cell came out of his office and demanded to know what I wanted. I answered that I was looking for the course. He pointed were it was and added “You must be very polite when you go in”. I informed him that I am always polite.
At that moment, a young guy came rushing towards me and told me he was also late. We decided to go in together.

So I opened the door to slip in….and was shocked.
It was a small meeting room, packed with 40 people sitting (shoulder to shoulder, knee to back) and another 10+ standing…without air-conditioning!
By that time, the idea of standing for two hours or so, having to pay for that privilege, and no way to make notes was enough to freak me out. I made a hasty retreat and drove home. By 7.30pm, I was finally home and thought this whole exercise over.

My first lesson: never trust maps sent to you by companies.
My second lesson: People are friendly and helpful, but not always reliable
My third lesson: ExperTeam has a good idea – if implemented correctly

Their concept is great:
1) you let your own employees teach – no costs involved
2) in your own offices – no costs involved
3) your invitees have to register – free database/mailing lists
4) 50 invitees = $ 500 tax free
5) 5%-10% might turn into customers (hack, even 1 customer out of it makes it all worth while!)
But what upsets me most……Ibby was right!

Touchy people

You may have noticed as well – some people are touchy, others are not. I am not only referring to their state of mind, put the “their-hand-on-you-body” kind.
They mean well, they just want to emphasize a point by touching you.
Personally, I like my space and only want to touch and be touched by people a) I am close to and b) I like. Unfortunately for me, I live in a Mediterranean country filled with touchy people. While I am trying to keep my distance, they want to “enter my bloodstream” as they call it here. It is an endless battle – the more reserved I become, the more curious is my environment. Once I was cornered by a neighbor, who asked if I had a new boyfriend. When I looked puzzled, he happily told me that they (the neighbors) discussed the fact that there was a new car in my personal parking. They came to the conclusion that it must be related to a new guy in my life. It never crossed their minds that I might have changed jobs and got therefore a different company car. When I gave neighbor-dear one of my non-answers, he looked peeved and snapped that I am too damn secretive. Touchy, touchy!
In my previous company, I had the pleasure to work with a nice Argentinean colleague. Being Latin American, he kept standing close to me – too close for my peace of mind. So I used to step back a bit, which led to him stepping forwards again. In order not to cross the whole length of the office building, I stepped slightly sideways, so we ended up full circle. It looked like we were dancing. He never had a clue.
In the USA and Western Europe, people get into overcrowded public transport and elevators, bending backwards (pun intended) to avoid body contact. Not so in this country. They not only lean against you, but also start a personal conversation, commenting on your appearance or the book or article you are reading. Once you bite (I counsel you never to do that!) they happily ask you questions such as: are you married, do you have kids, where do you live, what is your rent/mortgage and how much do you make). If you refuse to answer, they are hurt. So I solve it by rapidly firing all kind of questions at them. You see, it is a one-way street – they can ask you but you can’t ask them. They are touchy when it comes to their private sphere.
Once I was purposely touched in Western Europe in a crowded elevator. A guy squeezed my butt and gave me a sleazy smile when I looked over my shoulder at him. I know how to get even – I placed the heel of my right shoe carefully on his big toe and slowly shifted my whole weight to that foot. I tell you, the subdued squealing noises coming from his throat were quite rewarding.
Coming back to my present situation, strangers or people you just met happily drape an arm around your shoulder, touch your arm, shoulder or hair and even hug you.
Employers are worse. Not that they touch you – the laws here are very strict and they know you can sue their pants off. No, they created something even more horrid: a Hugging Day. Yes, really, that’s what it is called (and tax deductible). It’s their way of ensuring that their employees bond.
Now, I have nothing against bonds, as long as they are the equivalent of stocks, if you get my drift. I don’t see any reason to spend my free time with a whole bunch of people that I didn’t select to be my friends in the first place. Don’t get me wrong – I like my colleagues but I don’t want to spend my sparsely free time with them.
The day itself is a nightmare for a nerd like me – it consists of outdoorsy stuff. I like nature – I watch it a lot on National Geographic for which privilege I pay handsomely to the cable company anyway. So why should I rough it out, get sunburn and have to eat junk food? The planned activities are of the “let’s have fun together” kind: driving around in jeeps (not the way I want to spend my last hour on earth), karting (which is nice for kids under the age of 8), climbing through nets (what the hell is the point of that?!), shooting bows and arrows (hitting management isn’t allowed), sing along (I had my fill of music lessons, thank you very much) and walks, loooooong walks.
I didn’t like all the above when I was a kid and I didn’t acquire a taste for it since.
The head of my current company’s cultural committee is a tall, chubby and sweet guy who somehow made it his mission in life to drag me to one of those Hugging Things.
He cleverly asked me what would make me happy. I answered truthfully that I would like a day filled with a) fitness and b) Spa activities in a 4 to 5 star Spa resort with a state-of-the-art fitness center. He smiled, told me that it was too expensive for the company and guess what? Hugged me!

Guys like gadgets

Guys like gadgets. Must be something in their NDA. Just show them anything that looks like a tool and they will pounce in it like a cat on a mouse. Especially if it blinks, spins or consists of heaps of tiny removable parts.
It all starts from an early age – when little girls are playing house and having tea parties to hone their socials skills, little boys take objects apart and try to reassemble them. Needless to say, they are most of the time not successful in the reassembly department, which they have in common with many of their adult counterparts.
For the fun of it, just take your Significant Other into town. Just observe him when he stands in front of a hardware or electronics store and looks at the items on display as if they were Tiffany diamonds. You get my point? Must be evolution. Don’t get me wrong, in Neanderthal days, tinkering around with rocks to make spearheads is definitely more useful than wondering if you can mix a leopard skin dress with sable tooth tiger shoes. But we have come a long way since then.
Women use gadgets too, but have a pragmatic approach. As a woman, you find out what the functionality of say, a mobile device is and the price. Then you want to know if it has been proven to work and if it comes with an extended guarantee. Only then do you want to purchase it, providing it comes in the right color scheme.
Males have a different approach. Especially with high-tech gadgets, the smaller the better.
This leads to hilarious scenes, where you see beefy guys unsuccessfully punching at micro keys that can only be operated by a) children’s fingers or b) long and sharp female fingernails.
This doesn’t stop guys from comparing their devices with those of colleagues and male friends. Proudly they boast that theirs is smaller and weight less than those of their audience. As a result, they loose their devices regularly, which keeps whole factories working overtime.
Guys also want the latest models with additional functions that a) they don’t need b) they will never use. It must make them feel “cool” – that's the only reason why they keep spending extra money on it.
There is one thing that guys do want bigger and bigger (no, I am not referring to their cars) and that’s memory. Instead of training their own, they want computers and devices that can save information the size of the Library of Congress. I find this hilarious: they don’t even remember where their socks are or where they left their glasses, but they MUST have a multi-Giga memory chip in their computer. The fun part is – with so much memory how do you remember where you stored your info? Sounds like one of those silly exercises I had to do in university. Needless to say my professor was not only male, but also a gadget guy.
So ladies, next time you want to give a present to your Significant Other, forget about symbolic gifts linked to the first time you met. Waste of time and money and you will only get upset since he will not make the connection (and cannot find the relevant date on his mega Giga disk memory). Just give him a set of screwdrivers. Start with the alcoholic one and move on to a tool set. He will lovingly touch them, pick them up, turn them around and look hopefully around to find something to do with it. So put them and him to use – point at the cupboard you wanted him to fix for a long time. (No need to check your computer memory for that!) I guarantee you – it will be a huge success since guys just love their gadgets.