How long have you been doing this?

I get asked these kinds of questions a lot:

  • How long have you been doing such-and-such hobby?
  • How long have you been dating so-and-so?
  • How long have you worked at whatsamacallit?

I always feel uncomfortable and inauthentic answering these questions.

My first job was a hostess at a breakfast diner. I got up extra early to pour coffee, hand out menus, and bus dishes.

My resume no longer has that job listed, but when it did, you’d see I had worked there for almost two years: from July 2004 to October 2005, and again from June 2007 to September 2007.

From 2004 to 2005, I worked just 10-16 hours a week (only on weekends) on a rotating weekly schedule where I had every fourth weekend off. In summer 2007, I worked a more traditional 35-40 hour work week, but my weekends were something like Wednesdays and Thursdays, I think.

Napkin math: I probably worked somewhere between 1,200 and 1,400 hours total at that job.

Someone who works full-time at a job for two years and takes two week vacations every year works 4,000 hours.

Why should my resume boast nearly two years of work experience, when I worked less than a third of full-time? Conversely, had I worked overtime, why should my resume boast N years of work if I worked N*1.5 of full-time?

I think about this with hobbies too. When people ask me how long I’ve been rock climbing or doing acroyoga or making mead, what they want to hear is “about three years” or “about two years” or “about a year and a half” (respectively). But inside I’m screaming, because this feels like a deception. I don’t rock climb or do acroyoga or make mead most weeks.

Sure, I first learned to climb and bought the gear about three years ago. And some weeks I might climb two or three times. But some months I might not climb at all. I am certainly a worse climber than someone who has been climbing four times a week for three or four months, because that person has put in more hours than I have.

Some people ask things like “how long have you been rock climbing?” as polite conversation, but some use it as a way to gauge relative skill or dedication, just like with a resume. Do not expect me to send a 5.12b or even a 5.11c or to be able to lead climb just because I’ve been doing this for three years. Because I can’t (yet).

Years is a terrible way to approximate skill.

And you know what? Years is a terrible way to measure relationships too. I’ve had whirlwind romances that last two weeks where we see each other nearly every day. And I’ve had slow-burning long-distance relationships where we see each other every other month. Sure, texting and video chat and such fills in the gaps and the longer relationship does represent something more dedicated. But as far as physical time spent together, those two relationships might be about equal.

They say it takes 10,000 hours to master a skill. That’s been debunked, but still. Hours spent is clearly a much better indicator than months or years. Should I say I’ve been a science fair judge for five years, just because I’ve done it every year for five years? Or should I say I’ve been a science fair judge for about 25 hours, since that’s about how much time I’ve actually spent judging science fair projects?

Maybe keeping track of hours is hard. I can remember the month and year I learned to make mead (August 2017), but I can’t remember exactly how many hours I’ve spent on the hobby since (napkin math: about 80 to 100).

But maybe we can use some other metric besides months and years? I’d much prefer questions like:

  • How often do you climb?
  • What do you do at your job?
  • Where in the relationship escalator are you?

These are much more interesting questions than the ones at the start of this post, and I think get at the core of what people are really trying to get after when they ask How long questions.