I considered myself an honest person. At the job interview, he asked what three words would your friends use to describe you? I paused, then replied they’d say I’m honest, hardworking, and loyal. I said it with a curt nod and slightly pursed my lips, upon which the interviewer’s eyes lingered. The “luminous lip tint” I’d applied was effective. I knew I ought to be found attractive in these situations.
Having to appraise yourself like that, in three solid words, is strange. What adjectives could adequately capture a person’s idiosyncrasies? Doing so is like looking at a Monet landscape with a telescope. What attribute could describe the fact that I think bread is sacred because my father breaks a loaf across our table to cure any problem? That my pockets are constantly gummed together with Blu Tack because it helps to knead something when I get anxious. That supermarkets are relaxing because family time was going to ASDA. That I’m too impatient to suck on mints, so I grind them with my molars. That I only use Maldon salt flakes because Kit told me it’s uncouth to season food with anything else. That I order an oat flat white in the same breath as a grilled cheese. That I wear my backpack on my chest in crowds because my mother gave me a flogging when I “let” myself get pickpocketed. That showers are never long enough, because of him. That Jade isn’t even my real name. That Jade began as my Starbucks name, because all children of immigrants have a Starbucks name. That I was an honest person until I realized how easy it was to just say I’m really good, thanks, and you?
It might be self-indulgent to want someone to see all these peculiarities of mine. But at one point, I didn’t have a single word to describe myself.