I otter beaver truthful instead of lion – I’m a golden retriever.
A few weeks ago, I took a five-minute personality test at work to determine the type of animal I am. Based on my responses to 10 sets of words, my result was a golden retriever. In other words, patient, easy-going, over-accommodating, and confrontation-avoidant.
The other animals in the mix were lions, otters and beavers, displaying traits often associated with these creatures. Lions, say the test results, are leaders, otters are “cheerleading types,” and beavers are detail-oriented, dam (sorry) them.
The other people in my department were mostly lions, with a couple beavers and one otter/lion hybrid. (That person must’ve filled out the survey near a nuclear reactor.)
The rationale for the test was to determine how to best interact and communicate among our different “species.” When I approach one of the lions in my department, I should recognize they want results and have a tendency to take charge. An otter, meanwhile, wants me to validate them, while a beaver appreciates when I maintain a high level of quality.
I take all such tests with a grain of salt. A pillar, actually.
Merve Emre, in a Washington Post piece from 2018, writes that personality tests “are based on powerful, enduring myths about what personality is and how we can measure it” and are often rooted in stereotypes. While some people see the tests as “harmless fun, like astrology,” Emre notes that such tests are sometimes used by companies as a basis for hiring and firing. After all, if you’re in a business that values beavers, who wants an otter gumming up the works?
Speaking of astrology, back in the ’90s, when I worked in the advertising department of the paper you might be holding in your hands (unless you’re looking at it online), one of my responsibilities was the daily horoscope.
At the time, horoscopes were delivered on paper from a syndicate and were pasted onto the comics page. Once, I dropped the papers and hopelessly jumbled the dates, so the horoscopes that week were published out of order. I often wondered if this led any readers to take a risk on a day they were supposed to be cautious or stay home when they were advised to take a trip. In any event, nobody ever complained.
Similarly, none of my current colleagues complained on the day of our great unveiling, when we learned our spirit-personality animals.
Maybe it’s because personality tests are largely self-fulfilling prophecies. We select the words, traits or images that will give us results that best align with how we want to be perceived. We may do this at least as often as we select answers that actually indicate what we believe about ourselves.
But if the end results are the same, that’s a distinction without a difference.
I can’t quibble with my results: The golden retriever traits match me perfectly, especially the breed’s weaknesses. I am indecisive, over-accommodating, and willing to go to almost any lengths to avoid conflict. When I know somebody is angry with me, even if it’s somebody I barely know – like a driver I’ve cut off in traffic – it threatens to overwhelm all other concerns.
Still, one of the biggest benefits of personality tests is their aspirational nature. If I want to be more beaver-like or otter-like, I can practice diplomacy and intuition, respectively. I can also start foraging for sticks and balancing balls on my nose.
And here I am again, going out of my way to avoid criticizing a personality test created by people I’ll never meet, whose opinions should mean nothing to me.
Exactly the behavior you’d expect from a conflict-avoiding retriever.
If you want to try the test, use this shortened link, bit.ly/3LuV4hO.
Reach Chris at chris.schillig@yahoo.com. On Twitter: @cschillig
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