I am a professional question answerer. It is what I have become expert at doing. My online mentor, Penelope Trunk, says being an expert is what is best for one's career - so I have set out to be expert about answering a certain type of question. Never mind what I am answering questions about - I am an expert when it comes to answering a particular genre of questions.

One particular question that has been asked of me often is, "don't you just love being married?" Which really seems, to me at least, to be more of a statement than a question but that's neither here nor there. The issue is twofold really. First, it is a really dumb question. And I am a subscriber to the school of thought that teaches 'there is no such thing as a dumb question'. But this, this is a really dumb question. You must be wondering what exactly is the criteria for a dumb question? So glad you asked!

dumb question: v a question that one asks out of politeness (or general nosiness) that one really doesn't want the real answer to OR a question with an obvious answer

Now I realize that certain aspects of our culture almost require us to ask these types of questions ("How is your day?" "Have a good weekend?") of those that we maintain polite relationships with: faux-workers, dry cleaners, bike messenger, etc.

Second, the question itself is just downright obnoxious. I am not post-wedded-pausal. I am just a girl who feels that being married isn't going to rank in the top ten of my life achievements. I expected more of my female counterparts. I really, really thought they would come through in the end and see that a change in domestic arrangements or last name (in my case just the former) didn't mean that my whole purpose in life would shift drastically to mean living exclusively for one person.

I can hear all you scrambling for your nail techs therapists number (don't we all know those are the people with real drama in their lives) to txt me upon pealing yourselves off the floor, but ladies, I am having a hard time finding girls out there who can distinguish the difference between being married and being up your husband's ass.

Harsh huh?

I realize that I tend to be a little on the abrasive side of things (it's genetic, what can I say!) and to their anonymous credit I have two married friends who haven't once asked me "what it's like" (DUH! they already know, right?) but to the rest of you - shame.

I am not passionate about many things, but this thought of being only of half worth until married is just un-American (how do you like that? patriotism and marriage all on Olympics weekend!).

I bet a lot of you work at large companies where you make friends, or acquaintances really, with people in other departments/branches/etc. This is all good and well, as Tom Rath explained to me a couple of years back.

Tom says that having friends at work makes you a better employee, among other things, because you are happy at work. He reasons that, who wouldn't want to work with their friends?

Tom, you have a point. But I have a quandary.

I was out to lunch with a client recently when I ran into someone I had worked with at Local General Hospital. We shared small talk while waiting for our separate tables, as our lives have crossed paths, interestingly enough, since my departure at LGH.

My clients, being inquisitive (remember: I am a professional question answerer-people feel the need to ask me lots of questions!), asked me how I knew aforementioned girl in white lab coat. Offhandedly I answered, "Oh, we were co-workers at LGH. I worked there (professionally answering questions) and we hadn't seen each other in awhile."

This misled my lovely clients (they assumed, we all know what that does) to believe that I had once been a white coat. Note the little 'w' and little 'c'. Big 'W's and big 'C's are reserved for the MDs. What I really wanted to answer, when they asked how we knew each other - was that we were faux-workers. You know, fake co-workers. We worked at the same large, large company and occasionally ran into each other at the company dining hall, but really didn't actually work together. She couldn't give me a reference. She knew I was a consistent employee only because we were the only two in the organic food line at work. Every. Day.

And here I am again, in the same precarious situation. Apparently, I was offered up as a sacrificial reference for a former faux-worker. Upon receiving the unexpected, yet obligatory on the interviewees part, phone call I stalled.

How was I supposed to tell this guy that I wasn't as close to the interviewer as she thought we apparently were? I had flashbacks to making the invitation list to my wedding. Did Mr. & Mrs. Rhinoplasty realize that I didn't think nearly as much of them as they apparently (heard through the grapevine, mind you) thought of the soon-to-bes?

All I could think to tell him was that she threw killer Pampered Chef parties and drove a Lexus and was generally known to suffer from Big Hair syndrome. On occasion, she was able to get her boss to return my phone calls, but I wasn't privy to the earth-shattering secretarial skills her resume proudly boasted. To make matters worse, I wasn't even aware she was looking. Or unemployed. I was half tempted to put the guy on hold and dial her extension as a "pinch me" to prove that I wasn't a part of some time warp experiment.

Turns out, he had a list of textbook questions to ask where I ranked her "flexibility" and "sticktuitiveness" on a scale of 1 to 5. Praise HR for senseless interview practices we have all come to know and love.

Tomorrow morning, at the coffee pot, make sure and say hello to your friendly faux-workers.