The other side of the table...
The thing about interviews is that it doesn’t matter which side of the table you’re on, you’ll always learn something new.
This wasn’t my first time interviewing people, but ill the times before have been on a much snaller scale. I haven’t sat besides the Chairman of several different organizations and a host of other excruciatingly well qualified and well respected members of the whole industry. And when you’re considered the ‘authority’, the man more or less solely In charge of the final selection, it doesn’t really help unlatch the pressure valve.
What did help though was that the people I now sat amidst were the same people I had managed, by some strange quirk of fate, to impress enough to land this job.
The first guy I ever interviewed and hired was fired 3 days into the job. The second lasted a month. Then I hired two and together they managed to test my patience for a whopping 4 months. After that I shut down the little IT consultancy thing I had going and became a jobless, hopeless writer.
Not a very good track record, if I do say so myself. But it seems, that somehow, through yet another quirk of fate, my bosses felt that I not only had the ability to select a good employee but was actually better suited to make the call than the whole bunch of them. Bloody Stupid, I say. I maintained my composure like a grown up and only smirked when I got back to my office.
So the moment approached and I periodically peeked out my door at the assembling horde of the nervouse, anxious, desperate candidates and felt the elephants jujistuing in my own stomach. It wasn’t that I was afraid of the candidates, titles bring to you an obscene amount of confidence. I was more concerned about choosing the wrong person, about not knowing what to ask, making a fool of myself in front of the people who decide whether I get a promotion or not. I hadn’t done any homework, how could I? I have never been a teacher, have no idea what it takes to be one except for a really thick hide to put up with the antics of the students like I used to be.
So when the time came to go to the board room, I went out for a smoke instead. Almost called my best friend before I remembered that he’d gone back to the States 2 days ago. Nearly got into the car to head back home but realized well in time that it would be easily the stupidest I’d ever have done. Including trying to have sex in the restroom of a café. It did not help to recall that humiliating chapter of my mostly embarrassing history.
But I pulled in a lung full of Lahore’s dusty, smoggy air and saying Fuck it under my breath, walked back in. Head up, back straight, staring everyone in the eye with a pompous smirk on my mug. Perception control you see, and as soon as I walked into the board room, where the panel of savants sat waiting for me, I knew I’d made an impression.
So the first candidate got called in while I struggled to get to her CV from amongst the pile placed before me.
Luckily, she was so magnificently incompetent that my confidence went up a couple of notches. She trembled so much she could’ve given a hand job without even trying. I didn’t really try to ease her pain any, which in retrospect was mean of me. It was obvious that she had trouble comprehending English as it was and I went on to re-create my best impression of an ameircan Accent. If she wasn’t about to throw up she probably would’ve been impressed. Everyone else apparently was, as pin drop silence ensued as soon as I posed my first question. “How khumfortable are you with MS Applications?”
I asked. And in response got the most frightened vacant stare of all time. It was like whatever blood she had left in her after the massive confidence coronary got drained right out of her. Not only did she go pale, her face collapsed into itself. Cheeks got sucked in and eyes nearly exploded right out of their sockets as a squeaky whimper escaped all her defenses and fell flat before us in surrender.
“Jee sir.” Was her barely audible retort.
I pretended to not know that it was my accent and my chosen language and probably also the words I chose to use that threw her right of the merry-go round, and repeated myself, inflection for inflection, word for word.
This is when she went still as a dead rat. Her face presenting the same expression of abject fear from before, I could almost see the tears rising up beneath her cheeks to her eyes.
One of the other board members repeated what I had said in Urdu but she may aswell not have bothered. After another attempt to elicit a response failed I leaned forward and as gently as I could posed a different question, making sure that I pronounced each word separately and clearly, like talking to a monkey. I don’t know why I was being mean, I realize this only in retrospect and feel a creepy feeling rise up my spine. But in that moment, I honestly didn’t give a damn about the girl’s feelings, or aspirations or hopes that had been dashed by one asshole. In that moment I only felt disappointment. And a bit of restlessness. She had lost the position even before she ever got to the interview because of whatever insecurities had butt fucked her confidence, and inspired the god awful orange and red thing she was wearing. But that, I feel, was no reason to be condescending towards her, which I was. Or mean, which I didn’t think I was, but I was.
Hind sight is 20-20 they say, and utterly useless, I say. So it doesn’t really matter now. But I really wanted to talk to her afterwards and tell her where she had gone wrong. A well qualified, we versed person in the field she was applying for shouldn’t have to suffer so just because of confidence issues, but alas, thanks largely in part to me, she was made to feel probably worse than ever before by me. I hope she hates me less than the person she got her dress sense from.
Next up was a hottie. I know it is wrong on quite a few levels to be checking someone out while you are interviewing her but she had more than just a cute face and puppy dog hazel eyes going for her. She had the ‘how to give an interview’ manual etched in her brain or something. She followed what I was taught at uni to a T. Well dressed, as in, not in orange or in something provocative. Head covered by a duppatta, not hijab, which sent out all the right messages. Confident to almost a fault, good, fuck, great communication skills. She is the first person I have been able to carry out a conversation, a high pressure conversation, mind you, entirely in English with. I would say I was prejudiced because of the hazel eye, I’m a sucker for pretty eyes, but I wasn’t the only one impressed. Everyone was immediately infused with energy due primarily to her attitude. She approached the interview as a meeting, no need for jitters, or nervous laughter. She knew her shit and that gave her an edge that she used to carve herself a soft corner in everyone’s heart. Well, you know, again in retrospect, she wasn’t really a hottie, more like a cutie. With loads of energy, the ability to laugh at her own mistakes, the spirit to bounce back after making a mistake and a passionate, attentive, responsive demeanor. Now, I have known about these traits from the motivational books I used to read when I was the one giving interviews and bombing. I had employed them to some degree but I hadn’t really noticed how much merit they held until I became the onejudging these attributes. Let me tell you, dressing up well, but not over doing it, is VERY important. Probably something you pick up from experience I remember once I was so… umm… Stupid, that I went for an interview in cargos with an untucked shirt. Result? Take a guess. Then once I went decked out in suit and tie for a IT guy’s job… over kill, like totally. It sent the worst possible signals, they thought I would be too expensive for them and for me to plead or to confess that yes I made a major bobo with the tie, was not possible. So, yeah, pay attention to what you wrap yourself up in, sure you aren’t there to audition as a fashionista, but the entry past the door with a face no one’s seen before… what makes the first impression is how you carry yourself. And I don’t care how confident you are no one can carry a bad dress sense.
So she was chosen pretty much unanimously even though we went through another 4 candidates for that particular post but no one quite measured up. The next best candidate lost the tie breaker because of her comparative inability to express herself and a lethargic, slump shouldered behavior. When you’re looking for motivated people who can take pressure on the trot and not break down into tears, as one of the candidates did, your gait says a whole lot more than you probably ever thought.
The cry baby came about during the interviews for another post. Another lady, low on self esteem and therefore on confidence, high on book knowledge but pretty much below sea level in terms of operational capability. I hall claim the blame for making her cry, but honestly, I think she was about to break down in gulps and tears even before she left her home. She arrived atremble. Greeted us with a scary smile that made her look more like a crazed psychopath than a probable trainer. She balked at every question even though it was obvious she knew the answers, could comprehend English but responding in kind was tantamount to asking a nun to strip. She started crying when I asked her the stupidest of question regarding her credentials. See, she had listed a host of computer programs as amongst her are of expertise and me actually having worked with most of them know that even claiming to be good at them all is beyond absurd. So I called her bluff, although I could have worder it better, or you know, foregone the temptation all together, but I didn’t. And after staring at me with more pain in her eyes than a cat whose whiskers been ripped off, she burst out bawling. Needless to say, her cries of anguish leaking past the flimsy wooden door didn’t do much for the confidence of those still waiting.
Thankfully, the next person in was a guy who although didn’t get selected was still pretty damn impressive. Despite his heavily accented English, he was sure of himself, and for good reason. Lesson learnt? Experience makes one hell of a difference. He’d been through the maze, like I had, and so had everybody else on the panel, and knew what it takes to win an audience over. We were quite won over when the bombshell sauntered in.
I swear upon all that’s worth swearing on she wasn’t selected just because of her sexy clothes. Nor for the sensuality she oozed. It was the fact that despite those to usually aggressive tactics, she was jovial and responsive enough to not put any body off, not even the hijab wearing grand ma of the selection panel. Greeted everyone with a smile, made sure that even though every curve was accentuated well by the almost pasted on shirt, the hefty duppata kept vulgarity well and truly out of the equation. She sat like I remember ladies in old movies sitting, with legs held close together and angling out. Hands in lap to minimize gestures that usually amplify a person’s lack of real knowledge about a subject, answered every question with a smile. But let it be known, that despite all the physical aspects that went her way, lack of expertise would have been a deal breaker. I remember wishing desperately for her to get the answers right. And she did, every time. She would make one hell of a poster child for Musharaf’s moderate enlightenment campaign, how many times do you get the looks of a super model coupled with the zeal and intelligence of a normal human being?
All in all, we went through about 30 odd candidates. Selecting 6, four of them women. Luckily all ambitious, goal oriented, intelligent and pretty ones. And profuse praise be to Allah, they shall all be working directly under me. I’m a great big opposer of affairs at the work place, but its nice to know that if one were to ensue, at least the choices available are top notch.
But round two is tomorrow, with 6 more slots to fill and there’s an Msc Psychology short listed amongst the candidates. I can’t wait to see what mask she’ll come wearing. And also what dress.
Work’s gonna be so much more interesting from now on.
:D
This wasn’t my first time interviewing people, but ill the times before have been on a much snaller scale. I haven’t sat besides the Chairman of several different organizations and a host of other excruciatingly well qualified and well respected members of the whole industry. And when you’re considered the ‘authority’, the man more or less solely In charge of the final selection, it doesn’t really help unlatch the pressure valve.
What did help though was that the people I now sat amidst were the same people I had managed, by some strange quirk of fate, to impress enough to land this job.
The first guy I ever interviewed and hired was fired 3 days into the job. The second lasted a month. Then I hired two and together they managed to test my patience for a whopping 4 months. After that I shut down the little IT consultancy thing I had going and became a jobless, hopeless writer.
Not a very good track record, if I do say so myself. But it seems, that somehow, through yet another quirk of fate, my bosses felt that I not only had the ability to select a good employee but was actually better suited to make the call than the whole bunch of them. Bloody Stupid, I say. I maintained my composure like a grown up and only smirked when I got back to my office.
So the moment approached and I periodically peeked out my door at the assembling horde of the nervouse, anxious, desperate candidates and felt the elephants jujistuing in my own stomach. It wasn’t that I was afraid of the candidates, titles bring to you an obscene amount of confidence. I was more concerned about choosing the wrong person, about not knowing what to ask, making a fool of myself in front of the people who decide whether I get a promotion or not. I hadn’t done any homework, how could I? I have never been a teacher, have no idea what it takes to be one except for a really thick hide to put up with the antics of the students like I used to be.
So when the time came to go to the board room, I went out for a smoke instead. Almost called my best friend before I remembered that he’d gone back to the States 2 days ago. Nearly got into the car to head back home but realized well in time that it would be easily the stupidest I’d ever have done. Including trying to have sex in the restroom of a café. It did not help to recall that humiliating chapter of my mostly embarrassing history.
But I pulled in a lung full of Lahore’s dusty, smoggy air and saying Fuck it under my breath, walked back in. Head up, back straight, staring everyone in the eye with a pompous smirk on my mug. Perception control you see, and as soon as I walked into the board room, where the panel of savants sat waiting for me, I knew I’d made an impression.
So the first candidate got called in while I struggled to get to her CV from amongst the pile placed before me.
Luckily, she was so magnificently incompetent that my confidence went up a couple of notches. She trembled so much she could’ve given a hand job without even trying. I didn’t really try to ease her pain any, which in retrospect was mean of me. It was obvious that she had trouble comprehending English as it was and I went on to re-create my best impression of an ameircan Accent. If she wasn’t about to throw up she probably would’ve been impressed. Everyone else apparently was, as pin drop silence ensued as soon as I posed my first question. “How khumfortable are you with MS Applications?”
I asked. And in response got the most frightened vacant stare of all time. It was like whatever blood she had left in her after the massive confidence coronary got drained right out of her. Not only did she go pale, her face collapsed into itself. Cheeks got sucked in and eyes nearly exploded right out of their sockets as a squeaky whimper escaped all her defenses and fell flat before us in surrender.
“Jee sir.” Was her barely audible retort.
I pretended to not know that it was my accent and my chosen language and probably also the words I chose to use that threw her right of the merry-go round, and repeated myself, inflection for inflection, word for word.
This is when she went still as a dead rat. Her face presenting the same expression of abject fear from before, I could almost see the tears rising up beneath her cheeks to her eyes.
One of the other board members repeated what I had said in Urdu but she may aswell not have bothered. After another attempt to elicit a response failed I leaned forward and as gently as I could posed a different question, making sure that I pronounced each word separately and clearly, like talking to a monkey. I don’t know why I was being mean, I realize this only in retrospect and feel a creepy feeling rise up my spine. But in that moment, I honestly didn’t give a damn about the girl’s feelings, or aspirations or hopes that had been dashed by one asshole. In that moment I only felt disappointment. And a bit of restlessness. She had lost the position even before she ever got to the interview because of whatever insecurities had butt fucked her confidence, and inspired the god awful orange and red thing she was wearing. But that, I feel, was no reason to be condescending towards her, which I was. Or mean, which I didn’t think I was, but I was.
Hind sight is 20-20 they say, and utterly useless, I say. So it doesn’t really matter now. But I really wanted to talk to her afterwards and tell her where she had gone wrong. A well qualified, we versed person in the field she was applying for shouldn’t have to suffer so just because of confidence issues, but alas, thanks largely in part to me, she was made to feel probably worse than ever before by me. I hope she hates me less than the person she got her dress sense from.
Next up was a hottie. I know it is wrong on quite a few levels to be checking someone out while you are interviewing her but she had more than just a cute face and puppy dog hazel eyes going for her. She had the ‘how to give an interview’ manual etched in her brain or something. She followed what I was taught at uni to a T. Well dressed, as in, not in orange or in something provocative. Head covered by a duppatta, not hijab, which sent out all the right messages. Confident to almost a fault, good, fuck, great communication skills. She is the first person I have been able to carry out a conversation, a high pressure conversation, mind you, entirely in English with. I would say I was prejudiced because of the hazel eye, I’m a sucker for pretty eyes, but I wasn’t the only one impressed. Everyone was immediately infused with energy due primarily to her attitude. She approached the interview as a meeting, no need for jitters, or nervous laughter. She knew her shit and that gave her an edge that she used to carve herself a soft corner in everyone’s heart. Well, you know, again in retrospect, she wasn’t really a hottie, more like a cutie. With loads of energy, the ability to laugh at her own mistakes, the spirit to bounce back after making a mistake and a passionate, attentive, responsive demeanor. Now, I have known about these traits from the motivational books I used to read when I was the one giving interviews and bombing. I had employed them to some degree but I hadn’t really noticed how much merit they held until I became the onejudging these attributes. Let me tell you, dressing up well, but not over doing it, is VERY important. Probably something you pick up from experience I remember once I was so… umm… Stupid, that I went for an interview in cargos with an untucked shirt. Result? Take a guess. Then once I went decked out in suit and tie for a IT guy’s job… over kill, like totally. It sent the worst possible signals, they thought I would be too expensive for them and for me to plead or to confess that yes I made a major bobo with the tie, was not possible. So, yeah, pay attention to what you wrap yourself up in, sure you aren’t there to audition as a fashionista, but the entry past the door with a face no one’s seen before… what makes the first impression is how you carry yourself. And I don’t care how confident you are no one can carry a bad dress sense.
So she was chosen pretty much unanimously even though we went through another 4 candidates for that particular post but no one quite measured up. The next best candidate lost the tie breaker because of her comparative inability to express herself and a lethargic, slump shouldered behavior. When you’re looking for motivated people who can take pressure on the trot and not break down into tears, as one of the candidates did, your gait says a whole lot more than you probably ever thought.
The cry baby came about during the interviews for another post. Another lady, low on self esteem and therefore on confidence, high on book knowledge but pretty much below sea level in terms of operational capability. I hall claim the blame for making her cry, but honestly, I think she was about to break down in gulps and tears even before she left her home. She arrived atremble. Greeted us with a scary smile that made her look more like a crazed psychopath than a probable trainer. She balked at every question even though it was obvious she knew the answers, could comprehend English but responding in kind was tantamount to asking a nun to strip. She started crying when I asked her the stupidest of question regarding her credentials. See, she had listed a host of computer programs as amongst her are of expertise and me actually having worked with most of them know that even claiming to be good at them all is beyond absurd. So I called her bluff, although I could have worder it better, or you know, foregone the temptation all together, but I didn’t. And after staring at me with more pain in her eyes than a cat whose whiskers been ripped off, she burst out bawling. Needless to say, her cries of anguish leaking past the flimsy wooden door didn’t do much for the confidence of those still waiting.
Thankfully, the next person in was a guy who although didn’t get selected was still pretty damn impressive. Despite his heavily accented English, he was sure of himself, and for good reason. Lesson learnt? Experience makes one hell of a difference. He’d been through the maze, like I had, and so had everybody else on the panel, and knew what it takes to win an audience over. We were quite won over when the bombshell sauntered in.
I swear upon all that’s worth swearing on she wasn’t selected just because of her sexy clothes. Nor for the sensuality she oozed. It was the fact that despite those to usually aggressive tactics, she was jovial and responsive enough to not put any body off, not even the hijab wearing grand ma of the selection panel. Greeted everyone with a smile, made sure that even though every curve was accentuated well by the almost pasted on shirt, the hefty duppata kept vulgarity well and truly out of the equation. She sat like I remember ladies in old movies sitting, with legs held close together and angling out. Hands in lap to minimize gestures that usually amplify a person’s lack of real knowledge about a subject, answered every question with a smile. But let it be known, that despite all the physical aspects that went her way, lack of expertise would have been a deal breaker. I remember wishing desperately for her to get the answers right. And she did, every time. She would make one hell of a poster child for Musharaf’s moderate enlightenment campaign, how many times do you get the looks of a super model coupled with the zeal and intelligence of a normal human being?
All in all, we went through about 30 odd candidates. Selecting 6, four of them women. Luckily all ambitious, goal oriented, intelligent and pretty ones. And profuse praise be to Allah, they shall all be working directly under me. I’m a great big opposer of affairs at the work place, but its nice to know that if one were to ensue, at least the choices available are top notch.
But round two is tomorrow, with 6 more slots to fill and there’s an Msc Psychology short listed amongst the candidates. I can’t wait to see what mask she’ll come wearing. And also what dress.
Work’s gonna be so much more interesting from now on.
:D
Comments
:))
a question: don't any of the women wear formals (i.e. trousers, jacket, etc) to the interview? and i am surprised that a (at the very least) basic knowledge of English and the ability to carry on a conversation in it is still considered optional. no wonder the candidates that are imported here from back home are usually sub-par and paid less than their counterparts from diff countries. for me, as a recruiter, it is a real turn-off when anyone resorts to urdu, esp when its done in order to hint at a sense of 'we're the same nationality and you should help a brother out' because frankly, that sorta crap has no place in a professional environment.
Beknighted please dont take any offence, none of the above is directed at you. You are one of the most honest persons I have come across. I wonder is this the case only because you are behind this blog, or you realy are like that.
RDEEEE; Lagay huay hain jee ;)
s and Babar:
Babar, yur a new 'value addition' to the flock of few who come here, so welcome, brother. Thankyou for thinking i'm honest, i am, almost to a fault, mostly considered rude and brash and badtameez cuz i, 1: dun want to be a hypocrite and 2: dun know how to be one. But yeah, you can pretty much count on the fact that i am honest as often as i can be.
Now as to your disagreement with what 'S' had to say, are you reffering to her observation about the dress sense or about the language? About the dress, i agree with you, to expect women to come all decked out in business suits and such is perhaps asking for too much but bear in mind, that every business suit, unless its transparent, beats in terms of modesty most of the current fashion trends going around these days , so its not because these chicks are good god fearing muslim girls that they dun wear western clothes, its because the desi stuff is much more provocative. I would like to see a westernized dress code for women instilled in banks at least, because there is nothing more irritating than a bank rep in gaudy purple with flip flops, sorry to say, but it is unprofessional.
As for the language part, Babar, if you had given that response, you would have gotten the job. Why? Because i would have known you know how to communicate in english and 'prefer' to speak in your mother tongue. Its not that we require people to be eloquent, or speak with an accent, no, but we do require that they be able to communicate in the language because no matter hwo loudly we blow our nationailst horn, the fact simlpy is that English is the language of the world. And please don't quote the french example to me, when they go out of france, they speak english too. I talk in urdu and punjabi with most of our clients and staff because its more informal and helps create affinity. However when teh World Bank contingent comes, or someone from UNDP shows up to monitor our progress, how the hell do you justify the presence of someone who cannot cimmunicate in english. I wasn't hiriing peons, you see, and even most of the ones we have no basic english.
Everyone is entitled to thier opinion of course, but i feel that its not only impressive but imperative that a person knows how to speak english, they don't have to get my pseudo-american accent or emulate it, but they do need to get thier message across and understand mine.
'S' i know you know i'm in lahore, and i know exactly what you mean and i whole heartedly concur. When yur in an english speaking country or a non-urdu speaking one you have got to show how comfortable you are with angrezi. simple reason, this be a global economy, babar makes a very weak argument in my opinion cuz he's just basically being a loyalist and not practical at all, its not a convulated personality or mentality or whatever that makes me or you or anyone with half a mind to expect a generally acceptable level of english maguage communication skills from a candidate anywhere in the world. Its a basic skill, like knowing how to type, or how to dial a number. It just has to be there. And if really, any one needs a justifciation for why it has to be there? May god help you.
Babar, don't take offense we have varying points of views, thats all. Its not you i'm dissing, its your opinion. :P
First of all I dont know what is the job decription for these candidates so I cant judge. But I got the impression that they will be keeping files , managind data, sending out mail, ect ect. For all of that of course you need to know how to read and write english, but not how to speak. Even if you are writing programs
You see I wasnt objecting to your attitude or your accent, sure its great to speak a language as close to as the natives do, i would love to do that with any language not just english. I was actually disappointed with these people going flat , hearing you speak like americans. I have seen people from all over the world , but havent seen this kind of attitude towards a foreign langauge in any other people. When a latino sees a latino she speaks espanol, not english. But watch the pakis socializing in a mosque, doesnt seem like they are tired of speaking english with goras.
And I think you dont need to be good at english to make your point across, all the bloody french , chinesse, germans and what not do speak english, but not fluently. Ofcourse if its in your job description, for example you are supposed to lecture american kids, then you should be realy good at it. But then I have seen many many heavily accented desi's and chinesse teaching in uiversities.
But may be its because of our different backgrounds, may be the real business world is not as forgiving as the academics.
Ok I understand that when you have to write a foraml letter, your english should be perfectly correct, but I strongly doubt that it counts while conversing. Why the bloody World bank people expect people from a totally different country to speak english well. They should also make some effort to understad, being bloody unilingual.
In any case I just cant stand this cultural imperialism. This has potential to do completely away with our own langauge. Sure I would like to speak great english with an american, just like I would try to speak arabic with an arab. Or if I am working at a call centre then it makes sense. But if someone is visiting me to buy a cotainer of undergarments or asking me to help him understand some physics probelm, i dont give a damn how I speak.
But again, it may realy be something needed for your kind of work.
And specialy it puts me off when people with same mother language use english. I mean WTF? didnt your mama teach you how to speak?
This reminds me of something intersting. Last time when I was in Pak, in every restaurant the servers will start in english, but ofcourse they dont expect you to start some serious conversation in englsih. they just want you to say a few words. So this manager guy at "thali" starts in eglish, (but as always I respond in Urdu) but my wife started talking to him in american accent (only as much american as she can) and the guy is like totally taken off guard. Instead of replying to her he statrted staring at me with a dumb look, like asking me what should I do next? And then I translated in urdu and he didnt come back to our table, just sent the server.
And about your blog, I have been reading it for quite a long time now. In my opinion you are realy realy good at writing . I think you should take it seriously and write simething for real publishing. Believe me , you should realy go for it. you have got all what it takes to be a great writer. You can make a lot of money :))
Take care
On the other hand a hijab is a total no no for me. Same idea again. foreign culture. When did any of our older generation had this thing. And personaly I find it totally distasteful. Specially a hijab on a hot dress is a total turn off for me. Sends strange kind of confused signal.
You rule.
You own.
A harem, even. Man, I hope they kick your ass ;)
as for english, i stand by it completely. imperialism, colonial hangover, gora worship are all bad excuses for being unable to converse in the international language. personally, our biggest criticism directed towards americans (aside from their bad choice in presidents) is that they only know one language. the fact that i am bilingual makes me a far better candidate for any job than someone who knows only english or only urdu. if chinese, germans etc don't know how to speak english, then they need to learn. and even if they don't, we need to compare ourselves with multilingual people and become BETTER, not worse. additionally, in an international company, it is most likely that your boss is going to be either a Brit, an American, a German or somewhere along those lines. or even French. but most decision makers are NOT citizens of the third world, in international companies, and therefore, to communicate with your boss, AND your colleagues, you need to be able to speak confidently in English. and if we don't stress on this within pakistan and set some standards, we're going to continue to have stammering, sub-par job seekers flooding into different countries, hoping to immigrate, completely confused about why no one is hiring them even though they send CV's with lines like 'please fine out my cv' and 'i have heard you have some vacancies lying vacant in your department'. or ones that burst into tears upon hearing an american accent!!
/end rant