At a job interview, they asked, “If someone was born in 1925, how old are they now?” I was stunned when they didn’t accept “100” as the correct answer… because. the interviewer smiled and said gently, “They might not be alive anymore—but the real question is: how would you find the right answer if they…
At a job interview, they asked, “If someone was born in 1925, how old are they now?” I was stunned when they didn’t accept “100” as the correct answer… because. the interviewer smiled and said gently, “They might not be alive anymore—but the real question is: how would you find the right answer if they were?” I realized then that they weren’t testing my math—they were testing my mindset. They wanted to see if I would assume facts or take the time to verify them. They were looking for someone who asks questions like, “Is the person still alive?” “When is their birthday?” “What’s the current year?” rather than jumping to a quick conclusion.
My instinct had been to answer quickly and confidently, thinking that speed meant competence. But in that moment, I understood something deeper: sometimes being right isn’t about answering fast—it’s about thinking carefully, asking the right questions, and considering the bigger picture. The interviewer continued, “In our work, assumptions can lead to serious mistakes. We value curiosity, not just confidence.”
After the interview, I walked out feeling oddly thankful—even though I’d been corrected in front of strangers. It didn’t feel like failure; it felt like growth. That simple question about age had opened my eyes to something more meaningful: in life, accuracy often requires humility, patience, and a willingness to look deeper than the obvious.
A week later, I received a call—I got the job. They said they were impressed by how I responded after realizing my mistake, not by the mistake itself. That day, I learned that being teachable is often more valuable than being perfect.
