The question.
Inevitably, in every orientation, training, or informational meeting I've ever attended, whether at school or work, someone asks the question. The useless, self-centered, pretentious question that draws attention to the asker, and provides no value to the group as a whole. In yesterday's case, the question involved interior design, and the location was the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. I'm certain across the world millions of similar questions were being asked, but this simply happened to be the one I was part of. I was at the Pratt Institute to attend an informational session about their graduate program in interior design. Rather, Jillian was attending the session, and I was accompanying her. There were roughly thirty people in the session listening to the dean of the department and a professor describe the specifics of the program. The stone walls were high, white, and unadorned, and sound traveled with impunity, making me fear a spontaneous fart, particularly considering the early time of morning when my muscle control is at its weakest. After an hour, the dean opened up the session for questions, which instinctively made me cringe, as at this point I was hungrier for food than I was for more information. The first four questions were your standard fare, questions involving tuition costs, course load, and internships. Honest, useful, questions that provided valuable information to the assembled members. Then, the young asian woman, flanked by her parents, was called upon. In retrospect, I should have been prepared, as she had the eager-asian student thing going:
"Hi, my name is June Lin. My question involves sustainable design, which was once a popular fad, but now is clearly a social responsibility. How is your curriculum influenced by the necessity of and for sustainability, and if I wanted to make that a focus, which classes in particular could I take to compliment my studies and could those courses replace credit requirements in other fields?"
Well, first, June Lin, thank you for your question. Secondly, if you could come over to my chair so I could offer you a gummy bear from my pocket, I would appreciate it. Thirdly, after you are done enjoying12 p[ the gummy bear, I could I trouble you to answer exactly what you trying to accomplish with your question. Was it to reveal your knowledge of sustainability, or your academic prowess in managing a more complex course load, or your sense of environmental concern? If you were a peacock would you constantly strut around with your feathers fanned for all other peacocks to envy? If you were a rose would you only bloom when someone was looking? Can you do me a favor June? Can you hold your personalized questions until after the fucking group has dispersed? Because the fucking group does not fucking care about your fucking course load.
Thanks, June. Follow this advice and there just might be another gummy bear in it for you.