Our weekly advice column from Giselle Massi, a former journalist with The Denver Post.

Once again, I was asked for information about my birth. That’s not particularly unusual for any of us who are applying for a bank account, a loan, a credit card, a special clearance for a government position, a social security number or a passport.

This information was being requested of me by a person who believes his real gift was something far different from his lifelong career, one that not only paid the bills, but gave him professional status. The path that he says got away, was his skill at reading astrological charts. He was dead serious, so it was easy to believe he was sincere. But since I had not solicited his services of working up my astrology chart, I found his request not only outside the realm of our working relationship, I considered it wildly inappropriate.

He passionately claimed his talent in this area has helped a good number of people, as well as having helped himself with his own issues, personal and professional. The actual reason he was asking me for my birthday information was not for me, but for himself.

This was one of those requests, more like an insistent plea, that comes out of the blue. Unexpected, perplexing, as I had already answered that request by him over a year ago. I had no idea he was going to make a case for the need for him to have it now. But he did. We were about to embark on another facet of our complex professional engagement. He explained that in order for him to understand me better, to help him to know me at another level, the information that he would deduce from the planetary alignment at the moment of my birth was essential information for him to have.

For more than a nanosecond, as I listened to him extrapolate the finer features of astrology that make it so meaningful to him, it felt like an ultimatum; I either give over the data or we are finished working together.

Perhaps to his surprise, I politely declined his request. My answer had nothing to do with the fact that I did not need to work with him or anyone, ever. I told him I had been asked this from other people who were curious about me, who wanted to know why I was the way I was, and who wanted to try to discern something that I perhaps had not already gleaned and shared. My answer was always the same, No. I told him the question felt like a violation of privacy. He replied that he knew of one other person that told him the same thing.

After I had listened to his justification why this was not the case, without disrespecting his nearly dogmatic views on the value of astrological charts, I tried to help him accept this fact: all he actually needed to know about me was already there in our ongoing professional relationship that was based in truth, transparency and loyalty.

I could not convince him that my actions, not the positions of suns, moons or planets, were all the information he ever needed. He wasn’t buying it as he had already bought into an astrology world view that made him certain that amongst the calculations and analysis of heavenly bodies were my unique essence, life trajectory, strengths and challenges. Those artistic zodiac scribbles were like a treasure chest of sorts to him.

Of course I was not buying any of it, but I did not feel compelled to dissuade him with my reasons. I knew nothing I would offer up as a counter to his belief system would deter him from his cosmic entrenchment. So what, that the practice supposedly dates back a few thousand years across several cultures. No matter what the advanced age may be – whether it’s tagged at 3 B.C.E or even 5,000 years old – nothing about age truly gets my serious consideration and respect, unless it refers to wine vintage.

I didn’t tell him that nor did I mention there are numerous technical reasons why the system is invalid. Anyone with serious curiosity can avail themselves of the errors in the constellation alignments. But he is highly intelligent, and of course he has heard those arguments. Inconvenient facts are discarded like egg shells. He chooses to be selective in what he retains or believes.

Me too, but I just use vastly different metrics. Astrology is a waste of my thought, except in the writing of this column. It’s important that my readers know I am not interested that those who are born at a particular moment in celestial space are called a Virgo, and proscribed various traits or fates. I adhere to what Cassius, the Roman nobleman from the play Julius Caesar, wisely states, “It’s not in the stars to hold our destiny but ourselves.”

Giselle M. Massi is the author of “We are Here for a Purpose: HOW TO FIND YOURS” and the novel “Just Dance the Steps.” Her romantacy “WYNTER’S DREAM” is now available. Giselle was a journalist with The Denver Post for 16 years and writes the newspaper advice column TELL GISELLE. Contact her at www.gisellemassi.com.