I've taken a lot of tests in my life. Academic tests, productivity tests, fitness tests, personality tests. Some have been more accurate than others. The fitness test I took in elementary school that proclaimed I had the muscle tone of a sloth was accurate. My SATs rightly observed that for every brain cell that contributes to my good grammar habits, 40 brain cells responsible for mathematical ability have to die. The Enneagram personality test I took in my 40s that labeled me an unapologetic recluse was also accurate (but isn't anymore).
The most recent test I took, as part of a business course, was a "Know Your Working Style" inventory. It asked questions about, among other things, my definition of success, whether I like to give presentations and how good I am at interpreting lots of data. When the results were in, I discovered that, in this particular test's parlance, I am what's known as a "Lover." Which sounds good until you realize that (according to the test), once I'm through energetically "connecting people to ideas" (yay!) and being "sensitive to and aware of how others feel" (so lovely of me!), I am "distractible" and "struggle to finish projects or to get any real work done."
Ouch. How quickly my positives skewed negative. As if that weren't bad enough, when I read the description to my husband, he said, "You're not that sensitive." Double ouch.
It's true that I do get distracted, particularly when I am writing. It's the usual culprits: Facebook, email, the Popsicles in the freezer. But in my defense, I meet all of my deadlines (and often turn in articles early), and I have never failed to follow through on an assignment. But it's also true that when I read through the descriptions of the other working styles, none sounded more like me than the Lover. Especially not the "Doer," who has "intense focus," is "detailed in their efforts" and who is "energized by completing tasks and checking off lists." In other words, my husband.
Yes, I made my husband take the test. And I believe it got him right. I've always believed the primary key to his success is his intense focus - the fact that he has made it his business to pursue one avenue of creativity (digital art) and to follow it wherever it opened doors. This is contrary to what I have always done, which is to get deeply embroiled in a passionate endeavor, like writing a book, and then to slice that endeavor into layers of offshoot endeavors, so that along with writing a book I am also editing a small newspaper, crafting standalone essays for literary journals and writing long-form articles for consumer magazines, while hatching ideas for a business that will transform companion animal care in Chattanooga and beyond.
Not long after my husband and I took the Working Style test, we were discussing throwing a party in our new neighborhood. We took the first step: We mentally went up and down each street and made a long list of people to invite. While I enjoyed dreaming about the moment we would bring all these interesting people together in our house, there were additional steps to complete before that could happen. As I recall, my husband made some sort of chart with headings and dividers to group and separate ideas. Certain things could not coexist with other things; for example, Mediterranean fare canceled out pizza. Margaritas canceled out wine. Dogs canceled out children. Rain canceled out the porch. This was the point at which I threw up my hands.
"I can't do it," I said. "It's too big and complicated, and I can't juggle all these factors in my head at one time. I don't want to have a party anymore."
"You don't have to keep it all in your head," said my husband, patiently, confidently. "That's why I've made this list." Then he checked "make a list" off his list.
But I had already moved on. Relieved to have the party burden off my shoulders, I got a Popsicle from the freezer and sat down to check my email.
But my husband had not moved on. As we'd started this party idea, we ought to finish it, he said. He pointed to his graphs and charts and lists. He asked how we could get back on track. He suggested we narrow our focus, make it a potluck, a BYOB, forget about the porch and the children. He voted for pizza over Mediterranean. He was beginning to sound desperate.
"I told you I'm done with the party," I said.
At which point, he closed his notebook, laid down his pen and leveled a steely gaze at me.
"This is why Doers hate Lovers," he said through clenched teeth.
Had I been a sensitive person, I'd have felt bad for him.
Dana Shavin is the author of a memoir, "The Body Tourist." Her Psychology Today article, "To Love and To Envy," is on stands now. Contact her at Dana@danashavin.com; follow her on Facebook at Dana Shavin Writes.