Cycling through the City of London to work on a dark morning last week, I was
overtaken by a man in a black coat with no helmet, no lights, and listening to
music through
headphones. Idiot, I thought. As he disappeared into the underground parking of a large
bank, I wondered: what sort of banker does a man like that make? Either he is
boneheaded in his assessment of risk – or he wants to die. Both are unfortunate
traits in someone who handles someone else’s
money. He got me thinking about the things we reveal about ourselves when we are on
two wheels, and how useful that data could be to our
bosses. I’ve always fancied that as a group, cyclists make relatively good employees.
All of us are vaguely fit. We have the wherewithal to be reliable and punctual.
When the trains stop running as a result of a little wind – as they did in
London last Monday – we still get to work on time. We are risk-takers and ever
so slightly rebellious, which works quite well – especially in a job like
journalism. Only 10 minutes on a London road shows that we aren’t a group at all. Some of
us are fast, some slow. Some wear helmets, some don’t. Some break all the rules,
some break none. If employers really want to know what prospective employees are
like, they should forget psychometric testing and watch them ride a bike. Some
cyclists may protest that they are aggressive in the saddle only to become
pussycats at their desks, but I don’t agree: on a bike you are close to death
and so become a more intense version of your true
self. After I left the banker who didn’t get risk and proceeded to work, I saw
three other cyclists showing traits that should have interested their HR
departments. The first had his right trouser leg rolled up to reveal a meaty
calf. Such resourcefulness in the absence of a clip impressed me: I’d hire him
as a problem solver. The next was a man balancing, stationary on a “fixie” at
the lights – no one likes working with a
show-off. And then there was a woman on a baby-pink Brompton going through a red light
just by St Paul’s Cathedral forcing pedestrians to step out of her way. One of
them yelled “Asshole” into her oblivious
ears. Clearly, it is the red light that is the richest point for data gathering.
This woman comprehensively failed the job test, while other red-light skippers –
who do so without inconveniencing anyone – possibly pass. Red lights also sort
out leaders from followers. When there is a big group of bikes together at a
light, it takes a particular sort of cyclist to break the consensus and ride
off, but once he has done that, others follow, leaving just one or two behind. I
would hire these red-light refuseniks at once – but only for jobs in audit or
compliance. The two-wheel test also weeds out those who are not team players. All
cyclists view cars, lorries and buses as natural enemies, but the cyclist who is
hostile to his own kind, and who squeezes past others on the inside is suitable
only for solitary
working. Not only does cycling show how competitive someone is, it shows how men feel
about women being faster than them. On the (increasingly rare) occasions when I
overtake a man on a bike, he almost always overtakes me back at once, just to
make the
point. It is not just the behaviour on the bike, it is the bike itself. The person
with the carbon racer wants to impress. The person on the hybrid just wants to
get the job done. The not terribly fit man in Lycra is all talk, no trousers.
The person who wears no helmet or reflectors is mad, but so too is the person
who has so many lights and mirrors on the bike that there is hardly room for a
person on it
too. To check my theory about the connection between personality and cycling
style, I have just conducted a little control test. A reader had been offering
for a while to take me for a ride on his tandem, and so last week I climbed on
the back and was forced to cycle as him – which turned out to be safely,
confidently and courteously. I definitely would have hired him. And yet I was
terrified: to be on a bike without being me felt all
wrong. So what does cycling as me show? That I like being in control. That I’m
cavalier about some rules and fairly selfish, but try not to be flagrantly
obnoxious. I wear a helmet, a nasty fluorescent tabard and high heels – but to
prevent any more pairs being destroyed by the pedals I have invented a heel
condom made out of an old inner tube. Which shows I can be creative – but only
when really
desperate. |
|