As part of a job opportunity I am pursuing, I was sent a translated document and its original, to edit, reformat, and adjust as I saw appropriate. The instructions were to make the changes in the original file while tracking the changes. Given that it’s a .docx and my computer is sitting with a comfortable but finicky copy of Microsoft Word 2003, the inevitable fits following (such as the program freezing, the formatting being as buggy as Sims 3 sans extensive modding, and just plain strangeness in the original design choices of the test document that made it impossible to fix), I came to an agreeable compromise.
I would recreate the translated document in a fresh file, with changes tracked from the start so my exact methodology is visible. I justified this decision as “if I was confronted with this issue in the office, I would stop trying to grow flowers in a desert and scoot over to a garden.” The instructions don’t expressly forbid this and, so long as the integral purpose of the test is preserved, I fail to see the harm.
Especially given that I have gone the route of “begin anew” when something is so fundamentally flawed that it needs a razing. I completed this test in about an hour and, honestly, I’m much more satisfied with the results. Whether this company agrees with me or not remains to be seen and, honestly, if the company disagreed with finding an alternate solution, then it would not be one I would feel comfortable working with.
But maybe that’s just the part of me that has always identified as a writer. If something, a sentence, a character, a story, isn’t working, then there is no shame in setting it aflame, so long as its done with the intention to grow again. There’s a fine line between self-destruction and cauterization that a writer needs to walk when cultivating their works.
Or maybe it’s part of a gamer mentality. You don’t keep trying failed strategies unless you adore hitting the reload key. You look at your abilities, your tool box, you reassess your surroundings, or (in terms of Baldur’s Gate), you abuse a Wand of Monster Summoning and suffocate the problem with bodies. That’s the best strategy for the final boss, by the way. Monster Summoning and Fireballs.
If only issues in reality could be so easily addressed!
I suppose I’m saying that limitation through rules that benefit no one are those that should be cast down. If a solution works while maintaining the integrity of the original instruction, what harm is there in exploiting your abilities to their fullest potential? Isn’t the wisdom to perceive solutions outside the norm more admirable than blind obedience, even if it hamstrings your abilities, your creativity? Even if it weakens your candidacy for a position?
Perhaps this makes me ill-suited for an office environment.
Quiperling Muses 