Why do job applications insist on asking personal questions? In my admittedly short life, I’ve applied to many jobs. Some are corporate – hey, Starbucks, call me back sometime. Some are a little less corporate. I’m looking at you, local restaurant chains. Some are for stand-alone stores manned by bosses struggling to keep their head above water and their sanity intact. Some are for jobs on my university’s campus. These jobs are so bizarre and varied that they have only two things in common with each other. One is that they’re all paid by the hour and even a 40-hour work week on them wouldn’t be enough to break even. The other is that they all ask the sort of personal questions you expect from your therapist, your online dating profile, or maybe your astrologist.

I mean, I’m applying to wash dishes here or put clothes back on the rack after customers have strewn them all over the dressing room. Do I really need to include a list of my extracurricular activities just below my social security number and resume? Why do you need to know that about me? Whether I like to spend my free time running marathons to raise money for the homeless or I prefer to spend it eating cereal and watching Netflix doesn’t impact my ability to wash dishes or sort clothes. It’s a little too personal. It feels like you’re judging me for my lackluster life choices when you really should be evaluating me on whether I’m a terminal klutz or perhaps color-blind. Replace the personal questions with a mandatory 1-hour high school P.E. class. That’ll show you who’s got the skills you’re looking for.

Jobs where I’m supposed to interact with people, you’re not exempt either. I get that you want to make sure I’m not a serial killer who lives in my parents’ basement, but you still don’t need to know my hobbies or my relationship status or how many of my assignments I’ve turned in late because I was surfing the internet and lost track of time. Again, none of that information helps you determine whether I’m better equipped to ask, “Do you want fries with that?” than the 500 other poor schmoes who are applying for this job.

I had a job application the other day that asked me what adjective I would use to describe myself. What adjective, and why. Come on. Really? First of all, I had to spend at least a few minutes on the internet making sure I knew what an adjective was, and then I had to go back on the internet to see just how many synonyms there are for the phrase “hard-working.” And honestly, even once you get the flowery and little-used synonym you’re looking for, how are you supposed to explain your choice? The whole point of descriptive language is to speak for itself. I don’t want to spend half an hour figuring out seven different ways to phrase the sentiment “I work hard, show up on time, and don’t spend all shift on my phone.” I don’t want to write it, and trust me, you don’t want to read it, either.

I’ve got more to say on this, I really do. Unfortunately, I’ve got another window open on my computer and a job application that’s waiting for me to explain which fruit I feel most akin to and why. Right now, I’m thinking a lemon.