Goooooood morning internets!
Long time no post, no?
I know, I know - I'm sure you've all been on the edge of your seats these past two months, wondering where the updates were. "WHERE COULD SHE BEEEEEEEEEEEE?" you've screeched to yourselves, hunched over your laptops, tears streaming down your faces.
What's that? Oh - you, ah, didn't really notice? Oh. Erm...well...that's cool, too.
The truth is, I have sort of scored myself a job, of sorts. A "freelance" job at a news organization that I used to work for a long time ago. I am a "freelancer." I "freelance."
The bad news is, I don't have things like "health insurance" or "guaranteed hours" or the "ability to expense a cab when I have to be at work at 4 am and there is no public transportation available at that time because this is DC and everything shuts down at midnight with the exception of the bus system which I would prefer not to be taking at 4 a.m. by myself and I'm sorry if that makes me a pretentious white person but let's face it people get murdered on the bus here in the wee hours" and other such useful, important things that usually come with jobs.
The good news is, I HAVE SOMETHING THAT RESEMBLES AN ACTUAL JOB. And I have been getting enough work that it's completely cut all blogging time out of my life for the past two months. Gah!
Now, here is the problem - because of this crazy "working" thing I've been doing, I haven't had any job interviews in the last two months - terrible or otherwise. No job interviews! NONE! WHAT to blog about?!
Well, I don't know. But I'm sure I'll come up with something terrible-interview-related. SURELY I'll have another terrible interview soon. And I'm pretty sure I've had a few that have been so terrible, I completely blocked them from memory, in which case...I will face the pain in order to hilariously write about them.
Anyway - STAY TUNED.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
In which I have a red skull on my hand
So. Today I went on my first interview since the Great Potential Job Disaster of 2010 - of which we no longer speak. Anyway, this job was to be a press secretary for a certain U.S. senator. I studied studied studied and prepped prepped prepped for said interview, as I am not from the senator's state and have only actually been in the state one time, ever.
However, last night I made the mistake of going to a concert. That, in itself, was not so much of a mistake - except that I went with this guy who I thought originally was nice, but who turned out to be the kind of guy that wolf-whistles for cabs instead of sticking his hand up like a normal person, and then stands on the sidewalk and shouts for the cab to stop and pick him up (again, instead of JUST RAISING HIS HAND like EVERYONE ELSE DOES), and then, once in the cab, yells at the cab driver for driving without his cab light on. And also, the kind of guy who talks for 3.5 hours about himself and asks me approximately 2 questions, one of which was, "what, are you serious?" after I told the cab driver that we'd be making two - separate - stops at the end of the night.
Anyway. I say all of this because in going to the concert, I had to get my hand stamped - something I didn't think twice about until this morning, when I realized that there was an outline of a large, inky, red skull on the back of my right hand and there was no way it was coming off in time for the interview.
I scrubbed - and I mean SCRUBBED - my hand until I felt like I was going to scrub my skin right off, and STILL the red skull remained. Somewhat lighter than it was, but still - I HAD A RED SKULL ON MY HAND. Arrrrrrrrrgh.
"Ok," I thought. "No problem. I'll just...not let anyone see my right hand."
I decided the best way to accomplish this was to either sit on my hand during the interview, or gesture with it so quickly that it would be impossible to detect a red skull flashing around.
Yes. Perfect plan, no?
So, I show up at the senate building and proceed through security.
Security guard: "Excuse me, miss, but it looks like you have something on your - "
Me: "No I don't! No! It's nothing! It's just - I mean, I just went to this concert last night, and they had to stamp my hand, but you can hardly notice it, it's - "
Security guard: "On your - backside."
Me: "I - what?"
Security guard: "I'm sorry, it's just - you might want to stop in the ladies' room, it looks like you have some kind of a mark on your - um, backside. Like you might have accidentally sat on something, or.."
Me: [craning my neck around to look at my, erm, "backside" and spotting some kind of smudge] "Oh! Oh gosh, thank you, I - yes, I'll make sure to stop and, um, take care of that."
Security guard: "No problem. I would just brush it off myself, but, ah, well, that's a part of a lady that I'm not allowed to touch without getting fired."
Me: "Ah." Awkward pause. "Erm. Yes. Thank you."
So, I stop at the ladies' room, get rid of all awkward smudges, lament the fact that my hair, which was neat and straight upon leaving my house, is now a straggly mess after 5 minutes in the rain, and proceed to the interview, determined to keep the giant red hand skull out of sight.
Then it turned out that the woman with whom I was interviewing turned out to be super relaxed, super fun, and about my age, and didn't bat an eye at the red skull. Hooray!
However, last night I made the mistake of going to a concert. That, in itself, was not so much of a mistake - except that I went with this guy who I thought originally was nice, but who turned out to be the kind of guy that wolf-whistles for cabs instead of sticking his hand up like a normal person, and then stands on the sidewalk and shouts for the cab to stop and pick him up (again, instead of JUST RAISING HIS HAND like EVERYONE ELSE DOES), and then, once in the cab, yells at the cab driver for driving without his cab light on. And also, the kind of guy who talks for 3.5 hours about himself and asks me approximately 2 questions, one of which was, "what, are you serious?" after I told the cab driver that we'd be making two - separate - stops at the end of the night.
Anyway. I say all of this because in going to the concert, I had to get my hand stamped - something I didn't think twice about until this morning, when I realized that there was an outline of a large, inky, red skull on the back of my right hand and there was no way it was coming off in time for the interview.
I scrubbed - and I mean SCRUBBED - my hand until I felt like I was going to scrub my skin right off, and STILL the red skull remained. Somewhat lighter than it was, but still - I HAD A RED SKULL ON MY HAND. Arrrrrrrrrgh.
"Ok," I thought. "No problem. I'll just...not let anyone see my right hand."
I decided the best way to accomplish this was to either sit on my hand during the interview, or gesture with it so quickly that it would be impossible to detect a red skull flashing around.
Yes. Perfect plan, no?
So, I show up at the senate building and proceed through security.
Security guard: "Excuse me, miss, but it looks like you have something on your - "
Me: "No I don't! No! It's nothing! It's just - I mean, I just went to this concert last night, and they had to stamp my hand, but you can hardly notice it, it's - "
Security guard: "On your - backside."
Me: "I - what?"
Security guard: "I'm sorry, it's just - you might want to stop in the ladies' room, it looks like you have some kind of a mark on your - um, backside. Like you might have accidentally sat on something, or.."
Me: [craning my neck around to look at my, erm, "backside" and spotting some kind of smudge] "Oh! Oh gosh, thank you, I - yes, I'll make sure to stop and, um, take care of that."
Security guard: "No problem. I would just brush it off myself, but, ah, well, that's a part of a lady that I'm not allowed to touch without getting fired."
Me: "Ah." Awkward pause. "Erm. Yes. Thank you."
So, I stop at the ladies' room, get rid of all awkward smudges, lament the fact that my hair, which was neat and straight upon leaving my house, is now a straggly mess after 5 minutes in the rain, and proceed to the interview, determined to keep the giant red hand skull out of sight.
Then it turned out that the woman with whom I was interviewing turned out to be super relaxed, super fun, and about my age, and didn't bat an eye at the red skull. Hooray!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
In which I start over
Good evening, fellow internets.
So, we've had a setback here at Terrible Interviews - and by "setback," I mean that I did not get a job that I really, really wanted and really, really thought I was going to get. I know what you're thinking - doesn't that sort of thing happen, you know, ALL THE TIME? Isn't that, ah, the whole POINT of this blog?
Ah, well, yes. And you'd think after so many, you know, terrible interviews, that I would be used to this, but this time it CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD. For whatever reason, I kind of thought the whole thing was going to work out this time. To borrow from Bridget Jones (the book, not the movie - although I do like the movie, I highly recommend the book because OMG HILARIOUS) - it's like when you're walking alone at night and you kind of think someone's following you, but you know they're not really. And you kind of have a vague feeling that something bad MIGHT happen, but you don't really. But then they go and grab you around the neck and all of a sudden you didn't get the job.
Oh, Bridget. We understand each other so well, I think.
ANYWAY - what this DOES mean is that the TERRIBLE INTERVIEW STORIES WILL CONTINUE. Oh, yes. They will continue. Watch out, internets, because WE ARE BACK.
So, we've had a setback here at Terrible Interviews - and by "setback," I mean that I did not get a job that I really, really wanted and really, really thought I was going to get. I know what you're thinking - doesn't that sort of thing happen, you know, ALL THE TIME? Isn't that, ah, the whole POINT of this blog?
Ah, well, yes. And you'd think after so many, you know, terrible interviews, that I would be used to this, but this time it CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD. For whatever reason, I kind of thought the whole thing was going to work out this time. To borrow from Bridget Jones (the book, not the movie - although I do like the movie, I highly recommend the book because OMG HILARIOUS) - it's like when you're walking alone at night and you kind of think someone's following you, but you know they're not really. And you kind of have a vague feeling that something bad MIGHT happen, but you don't really. But then they go and grab you around the neck and all of a sudden you didn't get the job.
Oh, Bridget. We understand each other so well, I think.
ANYWAY - what this DOES mean is that the TERRIBLE INTERVIEW STORIES WILL CONTINUE. Oh, yes. They will continue. Watch out, internets, because WE ARE BACK.
Friday, February 26, 2010
In which I stick my hand in a jar of acid
Because I did not get the job.
Length of interview process for this particular job: 4 months
Number of initial applicants: 350
Number of finalists at the end: 4
Number of interviews I went on: 3
Number of times I was "unofficially" told I had this job "in the bag": 3
Number of days left hanging after final interview: 5
Method of rejection: email form letter.
I think, perhaps, this one goes beyond a "terrible" interview experience and lands squarely in the category of "devastating." I say that because I don't even have the heart to face-push anyone. Siiiiiiiiiigh.
Length of interview process for this particular job: 4 months
Number of initial applicants: 350
Number of finalists at the end: 4
Number of interviews I went on: 3
Number of times I was "unofficially" told I had this job "in the bag": 3
Number of days left hanging after final interview: 5
Method of rejection: email form letter.
I think, perhaps, this one goes beyond a "terrible" interview experience and lands squarely in the category of "devastating." I say that because I don't even have the heart to face-push anyone. Siiiiiiiiiigh.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
In which I am STILL waiting
Great Potential Job Offer Watch, Day Four.
Job offers: 0
Calls from job interviewer: 0
Number of times I have checked my phone for any missed calls: 947
Level of anxiety, on a scale of 1 to 10: 45,000
Amount of sea-salted kettle-cooked potato chips consumed in midst of anxiety: 1 bag.
Job offers: 0
Calls from job interviewer: 0
Number of times I have checked my phone for any missed calls: 947
Level of anxiety, on a scale of 1 to 10: 45,000
Amount of sea-salted kettle-cooked potato chips consumed in midst of anxiety: 1 bag.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
In which I am still on pins and needles
We are now on Day Three of the Great Potential Job Offer Watch. In case you're just joining us, I thought I was going to hear about a super awesome job opportunity on Monday. And now it is Wednesday. And I have heard nothing.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
If this job has been offered to someone else, and they're taking THREE DAYS to decide whether or not they want to accept it, while the rest of us wait in anguish and would IMMEDIATELY LEAP at this job - rest assured that I will FIND that person and facepush them. And if you don't know what a facepush is, trust me - you don't want to be on the receiving end.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
If this job has been offered to someone else, and they're taking THREE DAYS to decide whether or not they want to accept it, while the rest of us wait in anguish and would IMMEDIATELY LEAP at this job - rest assured that I will FIND that person and facepush them. And if you don't know what a facepush is, trust me - you don't want to be on the receiving end.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
In which I start throwing furniture
Not really. But I'm THIS CLOSE, internets. THIS CLOSE to throwing a chair across the room, crazy-rock-star-trashing-a-hotel-room-style, provided I have any upper-body strength, which I do not, but STILL.
I just had a third interview yesterday. Third. Interview. All at the same place. For one job. Three interviews now. All of my references were called. All of my references told me that it was pretty likely I was going to get this job. I got very excited. The third and final interview was fine. At the end of it, the interviewers were all, "well, we're going to make a decision today, and finally put an end to this long process!"
"HOORAY!!!" I said. "HUZZAH AND HURRAH!"
Then I went home and waited, clutching my phone.
And waited.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand waited.
The phone rings! Oh. It's my brother.
Phone rings again!
Arrrrrrrrrgh. It's my other brother. I mean, hooray, brothers, but this is toying with my nerves.
And now...still nothing. No word whatsoever.
WHY? WHY? WHY tell me that you're going to make a decision on a SPECIFIC DAY and then NOT TELL ME ANYTHING AT ALL? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
I just had a third interview yesterday. Third. Interview. All at the same place. For one job. Three interviews now. All of my references were called. All of my references told me that it was pretty likely I was going to get this job. I got very excited. The third and final interview was fine. At the end of it, the interviewers were all, "well, we're going to make a decision today, and finally put an end to this long process!"
"HOORAY!!!" I said. "HUZZAH AND HURRAH!"
Then I went home and waited, clutching my phone.
And waited.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand waited.
The phone rings! Oh. It's my brother.
Phone rings again!
Arrrrrrrrrgh. It's my other brother. I mean, hooray, brothers, but this is toying with my nerves.
And now...still nothing. No word whatsoever.
WHY? WHY? WHY tell me that you're going to make a decision on a SPECIFIC DAY and then NOT TELL ME ANYTHING AT ALL? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
In which I'm not asked any questions
Hello, internets. Long time no post, no? Well, I've been sort of hesitant to post any stories of recent job interviews I've had because I MAY be close to ACTUALLY GETTING one of them. I know what you're thinking: "HA. FAT CHANCE, FRECKLES MCGEE." (Hah, I have, like, 4 freckles, but that's how Mike "The Situation" described the girl who was the "grenade" on this one episode of Jersey Shore and I thought it was funny and...anyway. Not that I watch it. Nope.)
Anyway, one of these said jobs is a job that I'm pretty sure I'm definitely NOT getting, so behold: the terrible interview story that came out of it.
So, it's yet another interview for yet another communications job at yet another semi-political organization. Yadda yadda yadda. I arrive for the interview.
Interview lady: "Hi, [K]. It's great to meet you. As you know, we're looking to fill this communications position. It's pretty standard - responding to media inquiries, a lot of writing, a lot of pitching, and some social media."
Me, inwardly: I am getting so, so tired of participating in this exact dialogue OVER AND OVER AGAIN, in INTERVIEW AFTER INTERVIEW. My life has somehow become a Groundhog Day-style cycle of job interviews. Ugh...OH MY GOSH. What if I'm IN Groundhog Day RIGHT NOW? I mean, what if what happened in the movie is HAPPENING TO ME RIGHT NOW IN REAL LIFE? I mean, it makes sense - all I do is go on job interviews, have the same inane conversation with every interviewer, and repeat the cycle 9000 times. I'M JUST LIVING THE SAME DAY OVER AND OVER. How did Bill Murray get out of this? He had to, like, change something, or fix something, or save someone, right? THINK. I think I last watched this movie sometime in the late 90s. I vaguely remember him ending up in jail...am I supposed to end up in jail? And then...I wake up with a job? That doesn't sound right. Hmmm. Must look into this.
Me, out loud, to interview lady: "That sounds great."
Interview lady: "Great."
Me: Smile expectantly.
Interview lady: "So."
Me: Still smiling expectantly.
Interview lady: "So...."
Long pause.
Me: "Oh! Uh...soooo..."
Interview lady: "Well...what do you want to know?"
Me: "Erm. Um...well, I guess - maybe if you could talk a little bit more about...uh, job specifics, that...that would be helpful."
Interview lady: "Actually, I think I covered it."
Me: "Oh! Um...well, that's great."
Interview lady: Staring at me.
Me: "Erm...well, I, er, think I would be a good fit, because..." blah blah my experience blah blah Groundhog Day conversation all over again blaaaaaaaaaah.
Interview lady: "Great."
Silence.
Me: Unsure of how to proceed.
Interview lady: Still silent.
Me: "Well...I guess that's...all, then."
Interview lady: "Great! Thanks for coming in."
Me: "Erm...sure. Um, thanks for having me."
The end.
Now, I'm no "hiring manager" or even "permanently employed," but generally the interviewer is supposed to ask the job seeker some questions, no? Whatever. I went home and had a beer.
Anyway, one of these said jobs is a job that I'm pretty sure I'm definitely NOT getting, so behold: the terrible interview story that came out of it.
So, it's yet another interview for yet another communications job at yet another semi-political organization. Yadda yadda yadda. I arrive for the interview.
Interview lady: "Hi, [K]. It's great to meet you. As you know, we're looking to fill this communications position. It's pretty standard - responding to media inquiries, a lot of writing, a lot of pitching, and some social media."
Me, inwardly: I am getting so, so tired of participating in this exact dialogue OVER AND OVER AGAIN, in INTERVIEW AFTER INTERVIEW. My life has somehow become a Groundhog Day-style cycle of job interviews. Ugh...OH MY GOSH. What if I'm IN Groundhog Day RIGHT NOW? I mean, what if what happened in the movie is HAPPENING TO ME RIGHT NOW IN REAL LIFE? I mean, it makes sense - all I do is go on job interviews, have the same inane conversation with every interviewer, and repeat the cycle 9000 times. I'M JUST LIVING THE SAME DAY OVER AND OVER. How did Bill Murray get out of this? He had to, like, change something, or fix something, or save someone, right? THINK. I think I last watched this movie sometime in the late 90s. I vaguely remember him ending up in jail...am I supposed to end up in jail? And then...I wake up with a job? That doesn't sound right. Hmmm. Must look into this.
Me, out loud, to interview lady: "That sounds great."
Interview lady: "Great."
Me: Smile expectantly.
Interview lady: "So."
Me: Still smiling expectantly.
Interview lady: "So...."
Long pause.
Me: "Oh! Uh...soooo..."
Interview lady: "Well...what do you want to know?"
Me: "Erm. Um...well, I guess - maybe if you could talk a little bit more about...uh, job specifics, that...that would be helpful."
Interview lady: "Actually, I think I covered it."
Me: "Oh! Um...well, that's great."
Interview lady: Staring at me.
Me: "Erm...well, I, er, think I would be a good fit, because..." blah blah my experience blah blah Groundhog Day conversation all over again blaaaaaaaaaah.
Interview lady: "Great."
Silence.
Me: Unsure of how to proceed.
Interview lady: Still silent.
Me: "Well...I guess that's...all, then."
Interview lady: "Great! Thanks for coming in."
Me: "Erm...sure. Um, thanks for having me."
The end.
Now, I'm no "hiring manager" or even "permanently employed," but generally the interviewer is supposed to ask the job seeker some questions, no? Whatever. I went home and had a beer.
Monday, February 8, 2010
In which half of my interviews are canceled
All right.
FIRST OF ALL, I hate snow.
SECOND OF ALL, I hate the SHEER PANIC that pervades the mid-Atlantic at the mere IDEA of snow before there is EVEN A FLAKE IN THE SKY.
THIRD OF ALL...half of my interviews were canceled, which means that my day of four interviews became my day of two interviews. Which means I braved traveling through the MASSIVE SNOW BLIZZARD THING for NOTHING. Well, not nothing, but still.
Shall I start from the beginning? OK.
Thursday evening:
"I have four interviews tomorrow!" I say to myself as I skip to the train station. "LA LA LA LA LA four interviews! AND it's not supposed to start really snowing until the AFTERNOON, so I will be able to get them all done in time! La la la!"
Thursday night:
Phone rings.
"Hi, [K]? This is [interview #1]. Just to be on the safe side, I think it's best if we cancel tomorrow."
Me: "Oh - really? It's - I mean, it hasn't actually, um, started snowing or anything, yet, and - "
[Interview #1]: "Well, I think we're closing early tomorrow, just to be on the safe side."
Me: "Oh. OK, well, that's - that should be - "
[Interview #1]: "We'll be in touch, ok? Great." Click.
Hmmm.
Friday morning:
Peer outside. No snow! Not one single flake.
"Hooray!" I yell, skipping downstairs and thoroughly annoying my roommates who are dragging themselves into work. "THREE INTERVIEWS STILL ON!"
Check email. See email from [interview #2].
"Hi, [K]. We're closing at noon today, so I'm going to have to cancel our interview. Sorry about that. Can we reschedule for three weeks from now?"
Stare disbelievingly at email. Begin typing.
"Hi [interviewer #2]! I could actually come in earlier this morning, if that's easier for you all, before you close?"
Hit send. Wait impatiently.
See response come through.
"Thanks for being flexible, but actually, since some of us live pretty far outside DC, we're just...not going to come in at all today."
Peer outside window again. Still complete absence of any kind of snow or snow-like material falling from sky.
Sigh. Type type type.
"Sure. OK. Well...see you in three weeks."
Sigh again.
Send email to [interview #3].
"Hi [interview #3], I just wanted to check in and make sure we'll still on for today. I know some businesses are closing early, so just let me know!"
Wait wait wait wait impatiently.
See response.
"Hi [K] - definitely still on. See you soon."
"YAY," I say, "at least SOMEONE hasn't COMPLETELY LOST THEIR HEADS."
Get ready to leave for [interview #3]. Check email one last time. See email from [interview #4] in inbox. Oh geez.
"Hi [K], I'm not sure what's going to happen with the snow, so I'd hate to have you come in today if we end up leaving early. Do you think we could reschedule for next week?"
Look outside again. NO SNOW. NOTHING AT ALL. NOTHING IS HAPPENING.
ALRIGHT. LISTEN, MID-ATLANTIC, I AM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN. I AM FROM THE NORTH. AND IN THE NORTH, WE DO NOT FREAK OUT OVER THE SNOW UNTIL THERE IS ACTUALLY SNOW FALLING FROM THE SKY. FOR THE LOVE OF TACOS, LET'S STOP THE MADNESS.
Begin typing.
"Hi [interview #4] - well, I'm already in the city, so it's really not a problem for me to come to your offices early, and maybe we can at least meet before your offices close? I don't think it's really supposed to start snowing until late this afternoon, and the roads are fine right now, so...how about I come in early? This morning? Yes?"
SEND.
Wait. Drum fingers on countertop impatiently. Drum drum drum.
Response comes through inbox.
"Hi [K]. That sounds great. See you then."
SUCCESS.
So. I made it to two interviews, and neither were terrible, so yay. But I would like to note that I could EASILY have made it to ALL FOUR INTERVIEWS and EVERYONE would have had PLENTY OF TIME TO DRIVE HOME as the snow did not start sticking until LATE THAT AFTERNOON and I UNDERSTAND that there was eventually like THREE FEET OF SNOW dumped on DC but I STILL could have made it to my interviews and the fact that I did not has made me all SHOUTY. GAAAAAAAAAH.
FIRST OF ALL, I hate snow.
SECOND OF ALL, I hate the SHEER PANIC that pervades the mid-Atlantic at the mere IDEA of snow before there is EVEN A FLAKE IN THE SKY.
THIRD OF ALL...half of my interviews were canceled, which means that my day of four interviews became my day of two interviews. Which means I braved traveling through the MASSIVE SNOW BLIZZARD THING for NOTHING. Well, not nothing, but still.
Shall I start from the beginning? OK.
Thursday evening:
"I have four interviews tomorrow!" I say to myself as I skip to the train station. "LA LA LA LA LA four interviews! AND it's not supposed to start really snowing until the AFTERNOON, so I will be able to get them all done in time! La la la!"
Thursday night:
Phone rings.
"Hi, [K]? This is [interview #1]. Just to be on the safe side, I think it's best if we cancel tomorrow."
Me: "Oh - really? It's - I mean, it hasn't actually, um, started snowing or anything, yet, and - "
[Interview #1]: "Well, I think we're closing early tomorrow, just to be on the safe side."
Me: "Oh. OK, well, that's - that should be - "
[Interview #1]: "We'll be in touch, ok? Great." Click.
Hmmm.
Friday morning:
Peer outside. No snow! Not one single flake.
"Hooray!" I yell, skipping downstairs and thoroughly annoying my roommates who are dragging themselves into work. "THREE INTERVIEWS STILL ON!"
Check email. See email from [interview #2].
"Hi, [K]. We're closing at noon today, so I'm going to have to cancel our interview. Sorry about that. Can we reschedule for three weeks from now?"
Stare disbelievingly at email. Begin typing.
"Hi [interviewer #2]! I could actually come in earlier this morning, if that's easier for you all, before you close?"
Hit send. Wait impatiently.
See response come through.
"Thanks for being flexible, but actually, since some of us live pretty far outside DC, we're just...not going to come in at all today."
Peer outside window again. Still complete absence of any kind of snow or snow-like material falling from sky.
Sigh. Type type type.
"Sure. OK. Well...see you in three weeks."
Sigh again.
Send email to [interview #3].
"Hi [interview #3], I just wanted to check in and make sure we'll still on for today. I know some businesses are closing early, so just let me know!"
Wait wait wait wait impatiently.
See response.
"Hi [K] - definitely still on. See you soon."
"YAY," I say, "at least SOMEONE hasn't COMPLETELY LOST THEIR HEADS."
Get ready to leave for [interview #3]. Check email one last time. See email from [interview #4] in inbox. Oh geez.
"Hi [K], I'm not sure what's going to happen with the snow, so I'd hate to have you come in today if we end up leaving early. Do you think we could reschedule for next week?"
Look outside again. NO SNOW. NOTHING AT ALL. NOTHING IS HAPPENING.
ALRIGHT. LISTEN, MID-ATLANTIC, I AM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN. I AM FROM THE NORTH. AND IN THE NORTH, WE DO NOT FREAK OUT OVER THE SNOW UNTIL THERE IS ACTUALLY SNOW FALLING FROM THE SKY. FOR THE LOVE OF TACOS, LET'S STOP THE MADNESS.
Begin typing.
"Hi [interview #4] - well, I'm already in the city, so it's really not a problem for me to come to your offices early, and maybe we can at least meet before your offices close? I don't think it's really supposed to start snowing until late this afternoon, and the roads are fine right now, so...how about I come in early? This morning? Yes?"
SEND.
Wait. Drum fingers on countertop impatiently. Drum drum drum.
Response comes through inbox.
"Hi [K]. That sounds great. See you then."
SUCCESS.
So. I made it to two interviews, and neither were terrible, so yay. But I would like to note that I could EASILY have made it to ALL FOUR INTERVIEWS and EVERYONE would have had PLENTY OF TIME TO DRIVE HOME as the snow did not start sticking until LATE THAT AFTERNOON and I UNDERSTAND that there was eventually like THREE FEET OF SNOW dumped on DC but I STILL could have made it to my interviews and the fact that I did not has made me all SHOUTY. GAAAAAAAAAH.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
In which our guest blogger spends 5 hours in Nova Scotia
To tide you over until I have stories from my DAY OF MARATHON INTERVIEWING (see previous post), today we have another exciting guest blogger!
[UPDATE: Um, my day of marathon interviewing may not even HAPPEN now because of the MASSIVE SNOW BLIZZARD THING that's currently barreling towards the mid-Atlantic. I swear, if I have to reschedule FOUR INTERVIEWS, SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET CUT. THIS IS DEFINITELY AN ALL-CAPS SITUATION.]
Say hello to [J], who, let me tell you, knows only too well the horrors of the job search process. Enjoy.
Greetings Blogdom. It's been entirely too long since I addressed you. I had so much to complain about during grad school. Unemployment - for me - was far less interesting, though no less frustrating. In full disclosure I should let you know that after 15 long months, I found a company willing to employ me. The past 6 months have brought various excitements that come with a new job and a move across the country. Yet while it is true that I have one good interview story, it is also true that I have a myriad of terrible interview stories to share. And since today is my 6 month employment anniversary (as well as a day in which I find myself dreadfully bored), I thought it an appropriate time to piece together one such story. Thanks to [K] for hosting the blog and continually posting humorous - if tragic - interview stories.
When I escaped grad school, I still wasn't sure what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had spent the previous four years studying the combustion of porous carbon particles. Fascinating, no? One revelation I had during those years was that I am passionate about renewable energy. I was especially interested in wind energy as I believe its potential for growth over the next 20-30 years is enormous. The tricky question was, how does one transition from studying coal combustion to a job in a "green" industry? So I started applying to every wind energy company I could find - for any position that seemed remotely interesting.
[WP] was the first wind company to show interest in my talents (whatever those are). This company is actually based in Bristol, England and the job would include an international relocation - something that, quite frankly, at this stage of life would be ridiculously exciting. The interview process began with an international phone interview. Now, it's hard enough to understand foreign accents in person. Attempting to confidently carry on a conversation over a cell phone across the globe is at least slightly more of a challenge. The interview progressed as many phone interviews do. Let me tell you about our company. Tell me about your background. Here's the position we're considering you for. Are you interested? (As if there has ever been an unemployed person who would answer "no" to such a question!?) Ok, well, I'll get back to you.
After the interview I spent the next several days re-examining my every word of the conversation. How did I sound? Was I too enthusiastic? I did my best to resist the urge to day dream about life in the UK. After all, the chances were certainly slim that I'd be offered such a dream job. But then I got an email, asking to set up a second interview, this time with the department head as well as another team member. Holy jeebus! They're actually considering me for this position! I have to learn what the crap it is they're asking me to do. Research time.
The more I looked into the work involved with the position they were discussing, the more fascinated I became. This is the perfect job for me! It's exactly where my background in applied math intersects with the wind industry! I'll be hired for sure. I spent two weeks reading journal publications related to the discipline of wind resource assessment. Then came the interview. I made the mistake of drinking some coffee that morning, so I was good and wired for the interview. Not to mention my stomach was nice and unsettled. As if the previous interview hadn't been difficult enough to understand, this time they took it to the next level and put me on speaker phone. Have you ever tried to understand a British person on speaker phone? It's harder than you'd think. The interview is somewhat similar to the first, though the boss's questions are much more pointed. But I do my very best to assure him that - in the words of B.Rock - "Yes I Can!" (I wonder if [K] will censor that quote haha.)
[Note from [K]: cough ten percent national unemployment cough cough]
I come out of the interview feeling optimistic.
Another several weeks of waiting ensue. It's at this point that I make what would turn out to be a fatal flaw. In the excitement of the interview process, caught up in the illusion of an imminent international job offer, I decide not to continue my job search. I foolishly believe that I've nailed it and this job will be mine. Then the phone rings... they'd like to bring me for an on-site interview. Heck yes! A free trip to.... Nova Scotia? It turns out that flying me to Bristol would be too expensive. So they want me to interview at the next closest office in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Um... ok! I'm free tomorrow. Oh, uh, yes... several weeks from now would be fine.
More waiting. More anticipation. More dreaming of a charming life in Britain. At this point, my wife and I are seriously considering the prospect of moving abroad for a few years. The day of the third interview arrives. I catch an early morning flight from Dulles to Halifax (which is a beautiful city by the way). A half hour cab ride to the office. The interview lasts about three hours. It's the usual fair. I crush it. Afterward it's right back to the airport to catch my flight home. All the way home thinking, surely they wouldn't have spent two grand on plane tickets if they weren't going to offer me the job, right? Wrong.
After three interviews, including one international flight, I am informed that the company has decided it would be too expensive to hire a US citizen. It seems work visa's are quite hard to come by. Therefore they've decided to hire someone less qualified than me who happens to have the advantage of being a UK citizen. I am stunned. I mean absolutely floored. I did not see this coming.
Some of you may be thinking "that's not a terrible interview story". I would reply to you that in all my job hunting, never was I strung on for longer (and only once over a greater distance) during an interview process. And let's not forget: The higher you climb, the further and harder you fall.
Best of luck to those of you still searching. Keep the faith.
[UPDATE: Um, my day of marathon interviewing may not even HAPPEN now because of the MASSIVE SNOW BLIZZARD THING that's currently barreling towards the mid-Atlantic. I swear, if I have to reschedule FOUR INTERVIEWS, SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET CUT. THIS IS DEFINITELY AN ALL-CAPS SITUATION.]
Say hello to [J], who, let me tell you, knows only too well the horrors of the job search process. Enjoy.
Greetings Blogdom. It's been entirely too long since I addressed you. I had so much to complain about during grad school. Unemployment - for me - was far less interesting, though no less frustrating. In full disclosure I should let you know that after 15 long months, I found a company willing to employ me. The past 6 months have brought various excitements that come with a new job and a move across the country. Yet while it is true that I have one good interview story, it is also true that I have a myriad of terrible interview stories to share. And since today is my 6 month employment anniversary (as well as a day in which I find myself dreadfully bored), I thought it an appropriate time to piece together one such story. Thanks to [K] for hosting the blog and continually posting humorous - if tragic - interview stories.
When I escaped grad school, I still wasn't sure what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had spent the previous four years studying the combustion of porous carbon particles. Fascinating, no? One revelation I had during those years was that I am passionate about renewable energy. I was especially interested in wind energy as I believe its potential for growth over the next 20-30 years is enormous. The tricky question was, how does one transition from studying coal combustion to a job in a "green" industry? So I started applying to every wind energy company I could find - for any position that seemed remotely interesting.
[WP] was the first wind company to show interest in my talents (whatever those are). This company is actually based in Bristol, England and the job would include an international relocation - something that, quite frankly, at this stage of life would be ridiculously exciting. The interview process began with an international phone interview. Now, it's hard enough to understand foreign accents in person. Attempting to confidently carry on a conversation over a cell phone across the globe is at least slightly more of a challenge. The interview progressed as many phone interviews do. Let me tell you about our company. Tell me about your background. Here's the position we're considering you for. Are you interested? (As if there has ever been an unemployed person who would answer "no" to such a question!?) Ok, well, I'll get back to you.
After the interview I spent the next several days re-examining my every word of the conversation. How did I sound? Was I too enthusiastic? I did my best to resist the urge to day dream about life in the UK. After all, the chances were certainly slim that I'd be offered such a dream job. But then I got an email, asking to set up a second interview, this time with the department head as well as another team member. Holy jeebus! They're actually considering me for this position! I have to learn what the crap it is they're asking me to do. Research time.
The more I looked into the work involved with the position they were discussing, the more fascinated I became. This is the perfect job for me! It's exactly where my background in applied math intersects with the wind industry! I'll be hired for sure. I spent two weeks reading journal publications related to the discipline of wind resource assessment. Then came the interview. I made the mistake of drinking some coffee that morning, so I was good and wired for the interview. Not to mention my stomach was nice and unsettled. As if the previous interview hadn't been difficult enough to understand, this time they took it to the next level and put me on speaker phone. Have you ever tried to understand a British person on speaker phone? It's harder than you'd think. The interview is somewhat similar to the first, though the boss's questions are much more pointed. But I do my very best to assure him that - in the words of B.Rock - "Yes I Can!" (I wonder if [K] will censor that quote haha.)
[Note from [K]: cough ten percent national unemployment cough cough]
I come out of the interview feeling optimistic.
Another several weeks of waiting ensue. It's at this point that I make what would turn out to be a fatal flaw. In the excitement of the interview process, caught up in the illusion of an imminent international job offer, I decide not to continue my job search. I foolishly believe that I've nailed it and this job will be mine. Then the phone rings... they'd like to bring me for an on-site interview. Heck yes! A free trip to.... Nova Scotia? It turns out that flying me to Bristol would be too expensive. So they want me to interview at the next closest office in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Um... ok! I'm free tomorrow. Oh, uh, yes... several weeks from now would be fine.
More waiting. More anticipation. More dreaming of a charming life in Britain. At this point, my wife and I are seriously considering the prospect of moving abroad for a few years. The day of the third interview arrives. I catch an early morning flight from Dulles to Halifax (which is a beautiful city by the way). A half hour cab ride to the office. The interview lasts about three hours. It's the usual fair. I crush it. Afterward it's right back to the airport to catch my flight home. All the way home thinking, surely they wouldn't have spent two grand on plane tickets if they weren't going to offer me the job, right? Wrong.
After three interviews, including one international flight, I am informed that the company has decided it would be too expensive to hire a US citizen. It seems work visa's are quite hard to come by. Therefore they've decided to hire someone less qualified than me who happens to have the advantage of being a UK citizen. I am stunned. I mean absolutely floored. I did not see this coming.
Some of you may be thinking "that's not a terrible interview story". I would reply to you that in all my job hunting, never was I strung on for longer (and only once over a greater distance) during an interview process. And let's not forget: The higher you climb, the further and harder you fall.
Best of luck to those of you still searching. Keep the faith.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
In which I have 4 interviews in 1 day
Internets! I'm sorry about the lapse in posting; but don't worry.
I'm about to go on FOUR job interviews in ONE day.
ONE DAY. FOUR INTERVIEWS. THAT'S RIGHT.
If that isn't grounds for some exceptionally terrible interview stories, than I don't know what is. I fully expect that by the fourth interview, I'm going to be calling everyone by the wrong name and will be completely unaware of what job I'm even interviewing for. It'll probably go something like this:
Interviewer: "So, why are you interested in this position?"
Me, sleepily, with drooping eyes: "I don't know."
Interviewer: "You...don't know?"
Me, slumping sleepily in my seat: "Mmm-hmm. Oh. Um - I like...writing..."
Interviewer: "Uh...ok. Erm - any other reason?"
Me, head dipping close to desk: "Yesh. Um...exciting...opportunity. Hmm."
Interviewer: "Are you alright?"
Me: "Yesh. I's hard worker...but imma jus take lil' nap." ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
At this point, my interview will likely assume that I'm drunk and I'll be escorted off the premises. Good times.
STAY TUNED.
I'm about to go on FOUR job interviews in ONE day.
ONE DAY. FOUR INTERVIEWS. THAT'S RIGHT.
If that isn't grounds for some exceptionally terrible interview stories, than I don't know what is. I fully expect that by the fourth interview, I'm going to be calling everyone by the wrong name and will be completely unaware of what job I'm even interviewing for. It'll probably go something like this:
Interviewer: "So, why are you interested in this position?"
Me, sleepily, with drooping eyes: "I don't know."
Interviewer: "You...don't know?"
Me, slumping sleepily in my seat: "Mmm-hmm. Oh. Um - I like...writing..."
Interviewer: "Uh...ok. Erm - any other reason?"
Me, head dipping close to desk: "Yesh. Um...exciting...opportunity. Hmm."
Interviewer: "Are you alright?"
Me: "Yesh. I's hard worker...but imma jus take lil' nap." ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
At this point, my interview will likely assume that I'm drunk and I'll be escorted off the premises. Good times.
STAY TUNED.
Monday, January 25, 2010
In which I steal a story from the New York Times
Over the weekend, I stumbled across this HIGH-LARIOUS terrible interview story that some guy wrote for the New York Times. And despite the fact that it's a) not my own story; b) not so much of a terrible-interview-story as a forced-to-take-extreme-actions-out-of-sheer-frustration-in-the-interview-process story; and c) apparently violates some kind of copyright law for me to just post the story here - I'm posting it anyway. Because this "Neal Hirschfeld" and I are clearly kindred spirits, and I'm guessing that this man could also fill up his own blog of terrible interview stories.
ENJOY.
Complaint Box: The E-Snub
New York Times
Neal Hirschfeld
January 22, 2010
NOT too long ago, a magazine in Manhattan invited me, by e-mail, to interview for a job. After meeting with me, the managing editor and the director of human resources asked me to take home the standard editing test and return it ASAP. I dutifully obliged.
And then I waited. One day. Two days. A week. A month. Two months. Three … well, you get the picture.
Not only was there no word on whether I would be offered the job — nobody at the magazine even bothered to e-mail me to say that my completed test had been received!
Back in the good old days, people used to duck your phone calls. Or just not return them. But in this, the electronic era, a whole new brand of disdain has come into vogue. The age of the e-snub is upon us.
I have grown weary of this kind of “dissing.” People who seem to go blind, mute and limp when all you are seeking are a few keystrokes in reply. Prospective employers whose computers appear to crash when asked to give something resembling a definitive answer, one way or the other.
Annoying e-mail messages plague all of us, but those of a more legitimate nature are surely deserving of a simple reply. Unfortunately, basic e-courtesy is in short supply. So, having been burned in the past by e-boors, I decided that enough was enough. The magazine had left me in limbo. I was going to have my revenge.
Sitting down at my computer one morning, I e-mailed the managing editor to say that I had happily accepted the job. More specifically, I wrote that I was “delighted to learn that I will be joining the editorial team!” I went on to say that “the salary and vacation are fine and I will report for duty bright and early Monday morning.”
Whereupon, after the prolonged cold shoulder I had received, I was immediately bombarded with urgent e-mail messages, accompanied by the online equivalent of bells and whistles — the red exclamation point. Urgent messages were left on my answering machine, demanding that I call Human Resources at once. It was just too delicious.
When I finally did call back, the H.R. director was beside herself. “Who authorized this?” she demanded breathlessly. “Who was it that told you? There must have been some mistake. Nobody cleared this with me. I don’t get it.”
“Well,” I said sweetly, “I spoke to the editor in chief and he told me I’ve been hired, so I’ll be there first thing Monday. And, let me tell you, I am truly excited about joining your team!”
“But … but … but …” she sputtered.
Finally, I let the cat out of the bag.
“Listen, lady,” I told her, “when you ask someone to come in for an interview, take a test and physically return it to you, and you can’t be bothered after three months to let that person know where he or she stands, much less acknowledge even receiving the test back, you are nothing but rude, thoughtless, unprofessional amateurs.”
Huffily, she started to give me the stock speech about “our hiring procedures,” until I abruptly cut her off with the appropriate barnyard epithet. Then I barked: “Do you get it now? Well, do you?”
Meekly, she conceded, “Yes, I get it.”
No, I did not get the job. But there have been other satisfactions — most notably, the kudos of other slighted job seekers when I relate the tale. Having been subjected to similar indignities, they tell me they love it, absolutely love it. In fact, it’s been something on the order of a collective cheer.
ENJOY.
Complaint Box: The E-Snub
New York Times
Neal Hirschfeld
January 22, 2010
NOT too long ago, a magazine in Manhattan invited me, by e-mail, to interview for a job. After meeting with me, the managing editor and the director of human resources asked me to take home the standard editing test and return it ASAP. I dutifully obliged.
And then I waited. One day. Two days. A week. A month. Two months. Three … well, you get the picture.
Not only was there no word on whether I would be offered the job — nobody at the magazine even bothered to e-mail me to say that my completed test had been received!
Back in the good old days, people used to duck your phone calls. Or just not return them. But in this, the electronic era, a whole new brand of disdain has come into vogue. The age of the e-snub is upon us.
I have grown weary of this kind of “dissing.” People who seem to go blind, mute and limp when all you are seeking are a few keystrokes in reply. Prospective employers whose computers appear to crash when asked to give something resembling a definitive answer, one way or the other.
Annoying e-mail messages plague all of us, but those of a more legitimate nature are surely deserving of a simple reply. Unfortunately, basic e-courtesy is in short supply. So, having been burned in the past by e-boors, I decided that enough was enough. The magazine had left me in limbo. I was going to have my revenge.
Sitting down at my computer one morning, I e-mailed the managing editor to say that I had happily accepted the job. More specifically, I wrote that I was “delighted to learn that I will be joining the editorial team!” I went on to say that “the salary and vacation are fine and I will report for duty bright and early Monday morning.”
Whereupon, after the prolonged cold shoulder I had received, I was immediately bombarded with urgent e-mail messages, accompanied by the online equivalent of bells and whistles — the red exclamation point. Urgent messages were left on my answering machine, demanding that I call Human Resources at once. It was just too delicious.
When I finally did call back, the H.R. director was beside herself. “Who authorized this?” she demanded breathlessly. “Who was it that told you? There must have been some mistake. Nobody cleared this with me. I don’t get it.”
“Well,” I said sweetly, “I spoke to the editor in chief and he told me I’ve been hired, so I’ll be there first thing Monday. And, let me tell you, I am truly excited about joining your team!”
“But … but … but …” she sputtered.
Finally, I let the cat out of the bag.
“Listen, lady,” I told her, “when you ask someone to come in for an interview, take a test and physically return it to you, and you can’t be bothered after three months to let that person know where he or she stands, much less acknowledge even receiving the test back, you are nothing but rude, thoughtless, unprofessional amateurs.”
Huffily, she started to give me the stock speech about “our hiring procedures,” until I abruptly cut her off with the appropriate barnyard epithet. Then I barked: “Do you get it now? Well, do you?”
Meekly, she conceded, “Yes, I get it.”
No, I did not get the job. But there have been other satisfactions — most notably, the kudos of other slighted job seekers when I relate the tale. Having been subjected to similar indignities, they tell me they love it, absolutely love it. In fact, it’s been something on the order of a collective cheer.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
In which the tables are turned
PEOPLE OF EARTH:
In celebration of the fact that I have managed to snag myself an occasional freelance gig, and it's too early to start the celebratory drinking, I've decided instead to write up a terrible interview story that has a delightful twist to it.
A few months ago, I was at a birthday party for one of my friends, and was talking to his roommate, whom I'd never met before. He was talking about how he wanted to prank this guy that he worked with - there was an open accounting position at their company, and this guy had interviewed a bunch of people for the job but hadn't actually hired anyone yet, and it was getting kind of annoying for everyone else. Also, the guy was kind of a tool.
So, in other words, a perfect prank target.
"Yeah, I really want to have someone come in to interview with him, and just be, like, the worst person ever," said my friend's roommate. "Just give the most absolute worst interview and freak him out."
"Heee!" I said. "That would actually be really funny to watch."
"Oh, so you're going to do it?" said my friend, appearing from out of nowhere.
"I - what?" I said.
"I suggested you, as the person to do it," said my friend. "To be the fake interviewee. I mean, you're not doing anything during the day."
Ahem.
"Oh stop," said my friend, who, I should say, was also unemployed at the time. "I can't do it myself, and you'd have fun with it, right?"
"Hmmm," I said.
"We'll tell you everything you'll need to know," said my friend's roommate. "All you have to do is act like it's a real interview."
"Well," I said, "I mean...oh...alright, WHY NOT," and took another swig of beer.
I mean, I wasn't really doing anything during the day.
So.
A week later, I am on my way to this company to "interview" for an accounting job. My friend's roommate and his coworkers had made up a fake resume for me, and had written down a bunch of suggestions of things to say, and also gave me an "interview survey" that I needed to have this guy fill out at the end of the interview - a written assessment of my interviewing skillz.
"How am I supposed to get him to do that?" I asked.
"Just, you know, hand it to him at the end," said my friend's roommate - whom I'm going to call "Paul" from now on to avoid confusion - while we conferred in the car on the way over to his office building. "OK, so, you kind of have free reign - put your feet up, say inappropriate things, just basically try and be the worst possible job candidate in the entire world. Oh - did you bring any gum? You should probably chew gum during the interview."
"Oh," I said, "no, but I brought a bag of carrots."
Pause.
Paul: "Yessssssssssssssssssss."
So, Paul drops me off at the office building and goes to park his car and sneak back inside so he wouldn't be seen with me, and I mosey up to the office and announce that I'm here for an interview for the accounting job.
Also, side note, I've mentioned this before but it should be said again that I have ABSOLUTELY NO MATH SKILLS WHATSOEVER. And I am supposed to be legitimately passing as an accountant during this interview. Hmmm.
Anyway, so I'm sitting in the lobby, dressed in my interview best, when the prank target comes out. We'll call him... "Ron."
Ron: "[K]? Thanks for coming in, let's get started."
Me: "Ok, great."
We sit in the conference room. I slouch in my chair.
Ron: "Now, why don't you tell me a little bit about your background."
Me: "Sure."
I put my feet up on the chair next to me.
Ron: Appears unfazed.
Hmmm.
Me: "Well, I graduated from...from..."
Oh my gosh, I can't remember what my fake resume says.
Me: "Um...well, I graduated from...college...and started working in the accounting field. I worked for a nonprofit and then I moved to the American Diabetes Association, which is where I am currently."
Ron: "Cool."
Me: "Yep. I work in the fundraising department. But, you know, I'm looking to make a change. I have an ethical conflict."
Ron: "Oh. Really?"
Me: "Yeah. I mean, all day long, people are calling me, wanting to make donations. But GOD I just want to be all, YOU'RE WASTING YOUR MONEY, PEOPLE."
Ron: "Uh...why?"
Me: "I just think of diabetes as, like, a weak disease, you know? I mean, worst case scenario, what - you lose a foot?"
Ron: Perplexed silence.
Me: "Oh nooooo, my FOOT is gone! OH HORRORS! God. I just want to say to these people - why don't you give your money to a place that prevents, like, a real disease? Like AIDS."
Ron: Continued perplexed silence.
I stretch my legs out in my chair.
Ron: "Um...ok."
Me, pulling out my bag of carrots: "Do you mind if I eat? I have low blood sugar."
Ron: "Uh - no, go ahead."
Me: "Thanks."
Ron: "So - well, let me tell you a little bit about the job. It's in the accounting department - "
Me: CRUNCH CRUNCH BITE CARROT CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.
Ron: "And...er...well, we're looking to move pretty quickly on this, and..."
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. Swallow.
Me: "Yeah, it sounds great. I hope it's not too math-heavy, though."
Ron, laughing uncomfortably: "Really? Why?"
Me: "I mean, I technically work in fundraising now, but I'm not exactly 'good with numbers' [complete with air quotes] so, yeah."
Ron: "Well - ha - that's - haha, that's alright."
Me: "Great!" Crunch crunch.
My cell phone, which I have conveniently set to a super annoying, high-pitched ring tone, rings.
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TEE TEE TEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TEE TEE TEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TEE TEE TEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Me: "Oh! I'm sorry - I just need to get this. Won't take a minute. Hello?"
Paul, who is on the other end of the line: "How's it going?"
Me: "OH HEY BOO!" Pause. "Yeah, I can talk." Pause. "Oh, no, nothing important. What's up?"
Paul then feeds me a bunch of hilarious lines that sadly I CAN'T REMEMBER. Real "Paul," do you remember? I feel like we staged a fight, but I don't know. Whatever it was, it went on for, like, ten minutes, while "Ron" started to look increasingly awkward and annoyed at the same time. Anyway.
Me, hanging up the phone: "Sorry about that."
Ron: "No problem."
Me: "Great. Superrrrr."
Ron: "So. Where do you see yourself in five years?"
Me: "Oh. Actually, I kind of just want to get married, and just...not do anything."
Ron: "I see."
Me: "Incidentally, what is your policy on inter-office dating?"
Ron, laughing uncomfortably: "Oh haa har, uh, I don't think there is one. I guess you just shouldn't, like, date the boss, maybe."
Me: "Oh, I KNOW. Believe me. Learned that one the hard way."
Ron actually looks somewhat impressed/extremely interested by this. Ha. Boys.
Me: CRUNCH CRUNCH MORE CARROTS CRUNCH.
Ron: "If you could do one thing in the last five years differently, what would it be?"
Me, putting my feet up in the desk: "Um, I guess back when I was a freshman at U -" I stop myself just in time from saying my actual alma mater, before remember that I have a fake resume that I'm supposed to be sticking to.
Me: "At - um, at - at [college on fake resume] - well, I had a minor accident with a car."
Ron: "Really."
Me: "Yeah. But that guy didn't have to lose his leg after all, so actually, maybe I wouldn't do it differently."
Ron: Staring pensively off into space.
Me: "Um...what would you do differently?"
Ron then launches into a really heartfelt story about how he wouldn't have stopped playing AA baseball during college. It's actually really kind of emotional. I start to feel like an ass.
Me: "Wow. Well...you can...always play baseball, now, for...like...a league here, maybe?"
Ron: "Well, anyway, as I said, we're going to make a decision pretty quickly, so - oh, I forgot to ask, how did you find out about this position?"
Me, remembering on that on my fake resume, it says I know a real person at the company: "Oh, I know [actual employee], she told me about it."
Ron: "Oh, you know [actual employee]! That's great."
Me: "Yeah. She's kind of a bitch, though."
Ron: Stunned silence.
Me: "Oh! I forgot - before I leave, could you just, um, fill out this survey for me?"
Ron, taking the paper and looking puzzled: "Survey?"
Me: "Yeah, it's - ah - my, ah, therapist, she thinks it would be a good idea for me to get feedback on my interviewing skills."
Ron: "Oh. Sure."
We walk out of the conference room, around the corner, and into the lobby where the ENTIRE COMPANY IS APPLAUDING.
Ron: "I KNEW IT! I KNEW THIS COULD NOT HAVE BEEN A REAL INTERVIEW, I KNEW IT!"
Ahhhhh. Prank: successful. And I must say, getting to say crazy things and watching the INTERVIEWER squirm for once, instead of the other way around, was the BEST FEELING EVER.
Poor guy, though. I hope he's forgiven me by now.
In celebration of the fact that I have managed to snag myself an occasional freelance gig, and it's too early to start the celebratory drinking, I've decided instead to write up a terrible interview story that has a delightful twist to it.
A few months ago, I was at a birthday party for one of my friends, and was talking to his roommate, whom I'd never met before. He was talking about how he wanted to prank this guy that he worked with - there was an open accounting position at their company, and this guy had interviewed a bunch of people for the job but hadn't actually hired anyone yet, and it was getting kind of annoying for everyone else. Also, the guy was kind of a tool.
So, in other words, a perfect prank target.
"Yeah, I really want to have someone come in to interview with him, and just be, like, the worst person ever," said my friend's roommate. "Just give the most absolute worst interview and freak him out."
"Heee!" I said. "That would actually be really funny to watch."
"Oh, so you're going to do it?" said my friend, appearing from out of nowhere.
"I - what?" I said.
"I suggested you, as the person to do it," said my friend. "To be the fake interviewee. I mean, you're not doing anything during the day."
Ahem.
"Oh stop," said my friend, who, I should say, was also unemployed at the time. "I can't do it myself, and you'd have fun with it, right?"
"Hmmm," I said.
"We'll tell you everything you'll need to know," said my friend's roommate. "All you have to do is act like it's a real interview."
"Well," I said, "I mean...oh...alright, WHY NOT," and took another swig of beer.
I mean, I wasn't really doing anything during the day.
So.
A week later, I am on my way to this company to "interview" for an accounting job. My friend's roommate and his coworkers had made up a fake resume for me, and had written down a bunch of suggestions of things to say, and also gave me an "interview survey" that I needed to have this guy fill out at the end of the interview - a written assessment of my interviewing skillz.
"How am I supposed to get him to do that?" I asked.
"Just, you know, hand it to him at the end," said my friend's roommate - whom I'm going to call "Paul" from now on to avoid confusion - while we conferred in the car on the way over to his office building. "OK, so, you kind of have free reign - put your feet up, say inappropriate things, just basically try and be the worst possible job candidate in the entire world. Oh - did you bring any gum? You should probably chew gum during the interview."
"Oh," I said, "no, but I brought a bag of carrots."
Pause.
Paul: "Yessssssssssssssssssss."
So, Paul drops me off at the office building and goes to park his car and sneak back inside so he wouldn't be seen with me, and I mosey up to the office and announce that I'm here for an interview for the accounting job.
Also, side note, I've mentioned this before but it should be said again that I have ABSOLUTELY NO MATH SKILLS WHATSOEVER. And I am supposed to be legitimately passing as an accountant during this interview. Hmmm.
Anyway, so I'm sitting in the lobby, dressed in my interview best, when the prank target comes out. We'll call him... "Ron."
Ron: "[K]? Thanks for coming in, let's get started."
Me: "Ok, great."
We sit in the conference room. I slouch in my chair.
Ron: "Now, why don't you tell me a little bit about your background."
Me: "Sure."
I put my feet up on the chair next to me.
Ron: Appears unfazed.
Hmmm.
Me: "Well, I graduated from...from..."
Oh my gosh, I can't remember what my fake resume says.
Me: "Um...well, I graduated from...college...and started working in the accounting field. I worked for a nonprofit and then I moved to the American Diabetes Association, which is where I am currently."
Ron: "Cool."
Me: "Yep. I work in the fundraising department. But, you know, I'm looking to make a change. I have an ethical conflict."
Ron: "Oh. Really?"
Me: "Yeah. I mean, all day long, people are calling me, wanting to make donations. But GOD I just want to be all, YOU'RE WASTING YOUR MONEY, PEOPLE."
Ron: "Uh...why?"
Me: "I just think of diabetes as, like, a weak disease, you know? I mean, worst case scenario, what - you lose a foot?"
Ron: Perplexed silence.
Me: "Oh nooooo, my FOOT is gone! OH HORRORS! God. I just want to say to these people - why don't you give your money to a place that prevents, like, a real disease? Like AIDS."
Ron: Continued perplexed silence.
I stretch my legs out in my chair.
Ron: "Um...ok."
Me, pulling out my bag of carrots: "Do you mind if I eat? I have low blood sugar."
Ron: "Uh - no, go ahead."
Me: "Thanks."
Ron: "So - well, let me tell you a little bit about the job. It's in the accounting department - "
Me: CRUNCH CRUNCH BITE CARROT CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.
Ron: "And...er...well, we're looking to move pretty quickly on this, and..."
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. Swallow.
Me: "Yeah, it sounds great. I hope it's not too math-heavy, though."
Ron, laughing uncomfortably: "Really? Why?"
Me: "I mean, I technically work in fundraising now, but I'm not exactly 'good with numbers' [complete with air quotes] so, yeah."
Ron: "Well - ha - that's - haha, that's alright."
Me: "Great!" Crunch crunch.
My cell phone, which I have conveniently set to a super annoying, high-pitched ring tone, rings.
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TEE TEE TEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TEE TEE TEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TEE TEE TEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Me: "Oh! I'm sorry - I just need to get this. Won't take a minute. Hello?"
Paul, who is on the other end of the line: "How's it going?"
Me: "OH HEY BOO!" Pause. "Yeah, I can talk." Pause. "Oh, no, nothing important. What's up?"
Paul then feeds me a bunch of hilarious lines that sadly I CAN'T REMEMBER. Real "Paul," do you remember? I feel like we staged a fight, but I don't know. Whatever it was, it went on for, like, ten minutes, while "Ron" started to look increasingly awkward and annoyed at the same time. Anyway.
Me, hanging up the phone: "Sorry about that."
Ron: "No problem."
Me: "Great. Superrrrr."
Ron: "So. Where do you see yourself in five years?"
Me: "Oh. Actually, I kind of just want to get married, and just...not do anything."
Ron: "I see."
Me: "Incidentally, what is your policy on inter-office dating?"
Ron, laughing uncomfortably: "Oh haa har, uh, I don't think there is one. I guess you just shouldn't, like, date the boss, maybe."
Me: "Oh, I KNOW. Believe me. Learned that one the hard way."
Ron actually looks somewhat impressed/extremely interested by this. Ha. Boys.
Me: CRUNCH CRUNCH MORE CARROTS CRUNCH.
Ron: "If you could do one thing in the last five years differently, what would it be?"
Me, putting my feet up in the desk: "Um, I guess back when I was a freshman at U -" I stop myself just in time from saying my actual alma mater, before remember that I have a fake resume that I'm supposed to be sticking to.
Me: "At - um, at - at [college on fake resume] - well, I had a minor accident with a car."
Ron: "Really."
Me: "Yeah. But that guy didn't have to lose his leg after all, so actually, maybe I wouldn't do it differently."
Ron: Staring pensively off into space.
Me: "Um...what would you do differently?"
Ron then launches into a really heartfelt story about how he wouldn't have stopped playing AA baseball during college. It's actually really kind of emotional. I start to feel like an ass.
Me: "Wow. Well...you can...always play baseball, now, for...like...a league here, maybe?"
Ron: "Well, anyway, as I said, we're going to make a decision pretty quickly, so - oh, I forgot to ask, how did you find out about this position?"
Me, remembering on that on my fake resume, it says I know a real person at the company: "Oh, I know [actual employee], she told me about it."
Ron: "Oh, you know [actual employee]! That's great."
Me: "Yeah. She's kind of a bitch, though."
Ron: Stunned silence.
Me: "Oh! I forgot - before I leave, could you just, um, fill out this survey for me?"
Ron, taking the paper and looking puzzled: "Survey?"
Me: "Yeah, it's - ah - my, ah, therapist, she thinks it would be a good idea for me to get feedback on my interviewing skills."
Ron: "Oh. Sure."
We walk out of the conference room, around the corner, and into the lobby where the ENTIRE COMPANY IS APPLAUDING.
Ron: "I KNEW IT! I KNEW THIS COULD NOT HAVE BEEN A REAL INTERVIEW, I KNEW IT!"
Ahhhhh. Prank: successful. And I must say, getting to say crazy things and watching the INTERVIEWER squirm for once, instead of the other way around, was the BEST FEELING EVER.
Poor guy, though. I hope he's forgiven me by now.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
In which our guest blogger deals with a heinous CEO
So, while I've been sitting here, waiting on pins and needles (or is it "sitting" on pins and needles? Or just "on" pins and needles? Hmmm...clearly, these are the kinds of pressing questions that occupy my mind) for a job offer that, unfortunately, seems increasingly unlikely to come, it occured to me that I had a bunch of terrible interview stories from my friends just sitting in my email inbox, yet to be shared with the world.
"Oooh HOORAY!" I had said when they first emailed them to me. "Excellent! I'll post these PRONTO."
And that was, oh, two months ago.
Oops.
So. Without further adieu, please welcome today's guest blogger, "Natalie."
This interview comes from my early working days. As a young college graduate with good grades and a B.A., I was perhaps naively optimistic about the interview process. I moved to D.C., took a temp job with a non-profit and began my job search. One of those early interviews was with a small, 50-person company in northern Virginia that specialized in event management. My degree was in English, so no direct career path presented itself, and I thought event planning/management/execution would be an interesting place to begin.
I arrived at 9:00 AM for what I thought would be a standard first-round interview. First, I met with the HR Manager. She was very nice, very friendly, and very positive about my resume. By the end, she was telling me about the general work hours, the monthly happy hours, etc. I took this as a good sign.
Then she asked me if I’d be interested in meeting with a few other members of their team. Obviously I said “yes.”
The next person I met with was in the media-generation department. He asked me if I had an experience with PhotoShop and I admitted that aside from some minor exploration in my student newspaper days, I hadn’t. But, I was pretty seriously into Art back in high school and when he asked me if I’d be interested in learning PhotoShop, I practically salivated at the chance. Paid to play with a several-hundred dollar picture program? I was so there!
Next I met with a woman who was involved with direct planning. I should mention that by this time, it’s 11:30 AM and I’d been interviewing for 2.5 hours. But, everything seemed to be going well.
My three interviewers consulted – I could see them, nudging each other and whispering while I waited in the next room – and then they asked me if I’d have time to meet with their CEO. Their CEO, they said, would really like to meet me.
By this point it was after noon and I was hungry because I (to this day) prefer to eat at something like 11:00 AM but again, what could I say but “yes.”
[Note from [K]: As someone who has eaten many meals with "Natalie," I can assure you that this early lunchtime eating thing is very true. Also, "Natalie" is the only person with whom I can go to a restaurant, order sides of mac'n'cheese and mashed potatoes, and legitmately call it "dinner," because she orders the same thing. Anyway.]
Besides, at the time I was thinking that meeting the CEO was most definitely a good sign and, with any luck, I’d have an offer by the end of the day.
If I only knew.
One thing I should mention - in all of the abovementioned questions I was asked one question again and again. Everyone wanted to know if my current boss – my temp job boss – was a micromanager. They asked the question in different ways, and each time I wrote it off. I thought I knew what they were really asking: Are you capable of independent work? Are you trustworthy? Do you have initiative? How’s your work ethic?
So I answered enthusiastically again and again that even though my temp job was temporary and my boss liked me to check in, I was given assignments and expected to carry them out independently . And I threw in examples from my summer internships, my college activities. I thought I was nailing it.
Little did I know what they were really asking: how will you handle a psychotic micromanager?
Not well, as it turns out. But moving along.
I was ushered into the CEO’s office. He was a youngish man, maybe 40, and a UVA alum, which I figured gave me an instant “in.” It didn’t.
For one long moment he looked at my resume, then at me. “Law school,” he said.
Law school?
“Your resume. It has law school written all over it.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. I wasn’t actually considering law school, but maybe if my resume was screaming “J.D. J.D.,” I should reconsider?
Then he said, “If I hire you, I’m going to have you sign a 2-year commitment with me. How do you feel about that?”
His tone added a so-there kind of feel. By this point I was sputtering…“Well…I guess…?”
Then he launched into a line by line examination – read: criticism – of my resume and everything that was wrong with. Which was apparently everything. He grills me on my temp job, pointing out how pathetic it is that I don’t have health benefits and what am I doing for long-term savings and I was thinking to myself "dude, this is why I’m interviewing for a real job, duh," but he was basically calling me an idiot to my face and I had ZERO experience with that.
And then he told me how he “takes a personal interest in the day-to-day routines of his employees,” and I began to picture my day: arriving at 8:30, check in with the boss; work work work, boss over my shoulder; lunch break, boss not pleased; bathroom break, ask boss permission first.
It was not a pretty picture.
By the end of my interview it was nearly 1:00 PM and he’d Xed out the majority of my resume, written negative comments all over it, drawn me a chart on the back diagramming his imagined version of the state of my finances, and I was doing my best to hold back tears. Then he told me he was “just trying to help out another Wahoo,” and he “hoped I’d take this as a lesson.”
Of course, now I know it is completely inappropriate for an interviewer – even a CEO – to treat a perspective hiree in such a manner, but at the time I was too young and too shell-shocked to tell him what I really thought of him. Instead, I left in a rush, barely speaking to the friendly HR manager and not looking anyone in the eye. And even though I still believe that everyone else in that office really liked me, that I could’ve been an asset to their team, I can’t say I’m sorry I didn’t get the job.
But, for the record, I never went to law school either.
"Oooh HOORAY!" I had said when they first emailed them to me. "Excellent! I'll post these PRONTO."
And that was, oh, two months ago.
Oops.
So. Without further adieu, please welcome today's guest blogger, "Natalie."
This interview comes from my early working days. As a young college graduate with good grades and a B.A., I was perhaps naively optimistic about the interview process. I moved to D.C., took a temp job with a non-profit and began my job search. One of those early interviews was with a small, 50-person company in northern Virginia that specialized in event management. My degree was in English, so no direct career path presented itself, and I thought event planning/management/execution would be an interesting place to begin.
I arrived at 9:00 AM for what I thought would be a standard first-round interview. First, I met with the HR Manager. She was very nice, very friendly, and very positive about my resume. By the end, she was telling me about the general work hours, the monthly happy hours, etc. I took this as a good sign.
Then she asked me if I’d be interested in meeting with a few other members of their team. Obviously I said “yes.”
The next person I met with was in the media-generation department. He asked me if I had an experience with PhotoShop and I admitted that aside from some minor exploration in my student newspaper days, I hadn’t. But, I was pretty seriously into Art back in high school and when he asked me if I’d be interested in learning PhotoShop, I practically salivated at the chance. Paid to play with a several-hundred dollar picture program? I was so there!
Next I met with a woman who was involved with direct planning. I should mention that by this time, it’s 11:30 AM and I’d been interviewing for 2.5 hours. But, everything seemed to be going well.
My three interviewers consulted – I could see them, nudging each other and whispering while I waited in the next room – and then they asked me if I’d have time to meet with their CEO. Their CEO, they said, would really like to meet me.
By this point it was after noon and I was hungry because I (to this day) prefer to eat at something like 11:00 AM but again, what could I say but “yes.”
[Note from [K]: As someone who has eaten many meals with "Natalie," I can assure you that this early lunchtime eating thing is very true. Also, "Natalie" is the only person with whom I can go to a restaurant, order sides of mac'n'cheese and mashed potatoes, and legitmately call it "dinner," because she orders the same thing. Anyway.]
Besides, at the time I was thinking that meeting the CEO was most definitely a good sign and, with any luck, I’d have an offer by the end of the day.
If I only knew.
One thing I should mention - in all of the abovementioned questions I was asked one question again and again. Everyone wanted to know if my current boss – my temp job boss – was a micromanager. They asked the question in different ways, and each time I wrote it off. I thought I knew what they were really asking: Are you capable of independent work? Are you trustworthy? Do you have initiative? How’s your work ethic?
So I answered enthusiastically again and again that even though my temp job was temporary and my boss liked me to check in, I was given assignments and expected to carry them out independently . And I threw in examples from my summer internships, my college activities. I thought I was nailing it.
Little did I know what they were really asking: how will you handle a psychotic micromanager?
Not well, as it turns out. But moving along.
I was ushered into the CEO’s office. He was a youngish man, maybe 40, and a UVA alum, which I figured gave me an instant “in.” It didn’t.
For one long moment he looked at my resume, then at me. “Law school,” he said.
Law school?
“Your resume. It has law school written all over it.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. I wasn’t actually considering law school, but maybe if my resume was screaming “J.D. J.D.,” I should reconsider?
Then he said, “If I hire you, I’m going to have you sign a 2-year commitment with me. How do you feel about that?”
His tone added a so-there kind of feel. By this point I was sputtering…“Well…I guess…?”
Then he launched into a line by line examination – read: criticism – of my resume and everything that was wrong with. Which was apparently everything. He grills me on my temp job, pointing out how pathetic it is that I don’t have health benefits and what am I doing for long-term savings and I was thinking to myself "dude, this is why I’m interviewing for a real job, duh," but he was basically calling me an idiot to my face and I had ZERO experience with that.
And then he told me how he “takes a personal interest in the day-to-day routines of his employees,” and I began to picture my day: arriving at 8:30, check in with the boss; work work work, boss over my shoulder; lunch break, boss not pleased; bathroom break, ask boss permission first.
It was not a pretty picture.
By the end of my interview it was nearly 1:00 PM and he’d Xed out the majority of my resume, written negative comments all over it, drawn me a chart on the back diagramming his imagined version of the state of my finances, and I was doing my best to hold back tears. Then he told me he was “just trying to help out another Wahoo,” and he “hoped I’d take this as a lesson.”
Of course, now I know it is completely inappropriate for an interviewer – even a CEO – to treat a perspective hiree in such a manner, but at the time I was too young and too shell-shocked to tell him what I really thought of him. Instead, I left in a rush, barely speaking to the friendly HR manager and not looking anyone in the eye. And even though I still believe that everyone else in that office really liked me, that I could’ve been an asset to their team, I can’t say I’m sorry I didn’t get the job.
But, for the record, I never went to law school either.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
In which I am on pins and needles
Well, I just had another interview for a job that I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY REALLY want. A MILLION TIMES WANT. As for the interview itself...well, it could be looked at either way. There was a lot of laughing. I'm just, ah, not totally sure if my interviewers were laughing WITH me or AT me.
Anyway, if I don't get this job, I'm sure I'll convince myself that the whole interview was "terrible" and post the full story here - after I curl into a ball on the floor, sobbing and trying to stave off panic attacks about my life, that is.
If I DO get this job - well, it will be a freaking miracle.
For now, I'll leave you with a little teaser from the interview - a preview, if you will.
[Interviewer]: "What do you look for in a workplace?"
Me: "Well, most of my experience has been in a very collaborative environment. So I really enjoy working with coworkers, together, as part of a team. You know, instead of sitting by myself in a cubicle!" HAR HAR awkward laugh!
[Interviewer]: "Hmm."
Me: "Erm...yes?"
[Interviewer]: "You do realize that for the majority of this job, you would be isolated from the rest of the group, don't you? So...you'll actually be sitting by yourself. In...a cubicle-like situation."
Me: "Oh."
[Interviewer]: "Yeah."
Me, clearing throat: "Hrrrrrpm. Uh, well, I was...just kidding. That's...working alone is...also very enjoyable."
Oh God.
So as you can imagine, I'm on pins and needles, waiting to hear something. Tick tock, tick tock.
Anyway, if I don't get this job, I'm sure I'll convince myself that the whole interview was "terrible" and post the full story here - after I curl into a ball on the floor, sobbing and trying to stave off panic attacks about my life, that is.
If I DO get this job - well, it will be a freaking miracle.
For now, I'll leave you with a little teaser from the interview - a preview, if you will.
[Interviewer]: "What do you look for in a workplace?"
Me: "Well, most of my experience has been in a very collaborative environment. So I really enjoy working with coworkers, together, as part of a team. You know, instead of sitting by myself in a cubicle!" HAR HAR awkward laugh!
[Interviewer]: "Hmm."
Me: "Erm...yes?"
[Interviewer]: "You do realize that for the majority of this job, you would be isolated from the rest of the group, don't you? So...you'll actually be sitting by yourself. In...a cubicle-like situation."
Me: "Oh."
[Interviewer]: "Yeah."
Me, clearing throat: "Hrrrrrpm. Uh, well, I was...just kidding. That's...working alone is...also very enjoyable."
Oh God.
So as you can imagine, I'm on pins and needles, waiting to hear something. Tick tock, tick tock.
Monday, January 4, 2010
In which I discuss vegetables
HAPPY NEW YEAR, INTERNETS! I can't say that I was sorry to say goodbye to 2009. I'm pretty sure 2009 was only good for Taylor Swift and James Cameron. So sayonara, 2009. S - ah - erm...hello, 2010. (Must go with the American "hello," as Wikipedia tells me that there are over 100 ways to say "hello" in Japanese, something that was not covered in my primary Japanese master class, the 1989 classic "Big Bird in Japan." Best. TV. Movie. Ever.)
Anyway. I'm going to celebrate the promises of 2010 by kicking off with - a brand-new terrible interview story! Hooray!
Brrrrrriiiiing.
Me: "Hello?"
Assistant: "[K]? This is [assistant], I work for [congressman from faraway state]. I'm calling about the press secretary position."
Me: "Erm...the...press secretary position? Oh - oh, of course!"
(I'm getting good at handling the job-I-didn't-apply-for-or-know-anything-about-but-someone-must-have-passed-my-resume-on-without-telling-me-so-hooray phone calls.)
[Assistant]: "Yes, the press secretary position. Can you come in on Friday to meet with us?"
Me: "Yes, of course! Thank you."
An interview! Huzzah. Of course, I've never been to [faraway state] and know, erm, nothing about it, but I can learn! Must research!
So, I come to the interview armed with lots and lots of research. Who cares if I'm not from [faraway state]? I can still do this!
I arrive at the appointed conference room...and no one is there. Naturally.
I wait.
15 minutes later...
[Political guy, who I at first thought was the chief of staff but turned out to be some kind of political operative with a vaguely defined title]: "Hello! Let's get started!"
Me: "Ok, great!"
[Political guy]: "I'm just going to get [other political guy] on the phone; he's in the district right now, but he wants to call in."
Me: "Sounds great."
[Political guy]: Attempts to dial out on phone in conference room. There are several odd beeping noises.
[Political guy]: "Har har, this phone is always tricky! I'll get it to work this time."
15 minutes later...
[Political guy]: "You know what why don't we just go up and do this in my office."
Me: "Sure no problem."
So. I'm now sitting across from [political guy] and talking to [other political guy] on speaker phone.
[Political guy]: "So, what would be your main strategy for increasing awareness of the congressman's agenda?"
Me: Blah blah press coverage blah blah social media blah blah constituents blah.
[Other political guy]: "What do you think are the main problems issues facing the party?"
Me: Blah blah minority party blah blah lack of clear leadership blah new agenda blah.
[Political guy]: "What do you think about the healthcare debate?"
Me: Blah blah want to bleach my eyeballs blah.
[Other political guy]: "What do you know about the state and constituent issues?"
Me: Enthusiastically discuss my extensive research of state issues and suggestions for press coverage thereof.
[Political guy]: "Have you ever actually been to [faraway state]?"
Me: "Well...erm, no. But, I do know quite a bit about state issues, especially energy issues, as I did a lot of work with the state in my last job."
[Other political guy]: "But you've never...actually been there."
Me: "Er - no, not...not in, um, person." What? "I mean, I have not actually traveled there, myself."
[Political guy]: "Right."
Me: "Well, you know, I grew up on the other side of the country, on the East Coast, so, you know, there was...there wasn't really an opportunity..."
Silence from political guys.
Me, clearing throat: "Hrrrrrrrmmm. Erm. Um, actually, funny story, one of my friends from grad school, he lived in [city in faraway state] for a few years, and I remember that while we were in grad school, he actually had a crate of [famous vegetable grown in state] delivered to the newsroom where we were working. So I've actually eaten [famous vegetable grown in state]. Har! Funny, right?"
[Political guy]: "Oh. Right. Well, that's...something."
[Other political guy]: Noncommittal noise over speaker phone.
Me: Swallowing nervously.
[Political guy]: "OK. I'm going to ask you to write a few things for us. A speech, a press release, an op-ed, and some editing. You'll have until next week to turn it back in to me. Does that sound ok?"
Me: "Yes! That sounds great."
[Political guy]: "Alright. Here's the packet; good luck."
Me: "Thank you! Thank you very much!"
I enthusiastically get to work on said interview homework, which turns out to be very extensive and takes many hours, but I work hard! Do lots of research! I've aced it! I know it!
And, of course....I never heard from them again. Not even an "oh hey, thanks for doing all of this work, but we've decided to go with someone else." Just...silence.
Naturally.
Anyway. I'm going to celebrate the promises of 2010 by kicking off with - a brand-new terrible interview story! Hooray!
Brrrrrriiiiing.
Me: "Hello?"
Assistant: "[K]? This is [assistant], I work for [congressman from faraway state]. I'm calling about the press secretary position."
Me: "Erm...the...press secretary position? Oh - oh, of course!"
(I'm getting good at handling the job-I-didn't-apply-for-or-know-anything-about-but-someone-must-have-passed-my-resume-on-without-telling-me-so-hooray phone calls.)
[Assistant]: "Yes, the press secretary position. Can you come in on Friday to meet with us?"
Me: "Yes, of course! Thank you."
An interview! Huzzah. Of course, I've never been to [faraway state] and know, erm, nothing about it, but I can learn! Must research!
So, I come to the interview armed with lots and lots of research. Who cares if I'm not from [faraway state]? I can still do this!
I arrive at the appointed conference room...and no one is there. Naturally.
I wait.
15 minutes later...
[Political guy, who I at first thought was the chief of staff but turned out to be some kind of political operative with a vaguely defined title]: "Hello! Let's get started!"
Me: "Ok, great!"
[Political guy]: "I'm just going to get [other political guy] on the phone; he's in the district right now, but he wants to call in."
Me: "Sounds great."
[Political guy]: Attempts to dial out on phone in conference room. There are several odd beeping noises.
[Political guy]: "Har har, this phone is always tricky! I'll get it to work this time."
15 minutes later...
[Political guy]: "You know what why don't we just go up and do this in my office."
Me: "Sure no problem."
So. I'm now sitting across from [political guy] and talking to [other political guy] on speaker phone.
[Political guy]: "So, what would be your main strategy for increasing awareness of the congressman's agenda?"
Me: Blah blah press coverage blah blah social media blah blah constituents blah.
[Other political guy]: "What do you think are the main problems issues facing the party?"
Me: Blah blah minority party blah blah lack of clear leadership blah new agenda blah.
[Political guy]: "What do you think about the healthcare debate?"
Me: Blah blah want to bleach my eyeballs blah.
[Other political guy]: "What do you know about the state and constituent issues?"
Me: Enthusiastically discuss my extensive research of state issues and suggestions for press coverage thereof.
[Political guy]: "Have you ever actually been to [faraway state]?"
Me: "Well...erm, no. But, I do know quite a bit about state issues, especially energy issues, as I did a lot of work with the state in my last job."
[Other political guy]: "But you've never...actually been there."
Me: "Er - no, not...not in, um, person." What? "I mean, I have not actually traveled there, myself."
[Political guy]: "Right."
Me: "Well, you know, I grew up on the other side of the country, on the East Coast, so, you know, there was...there wasn't really an opportunity..."
Silence from political guys.
Me, clearing throat: "Hrrrrrrrmmm. Erm. Um, actually, funny story, one of my friends from grad school, he lived in [city in faraway state] for a few years, and I remember that while we were in grad school, he actually had a crate of [famous vegetable grown in state] delivered to the newsroom where we were working. So I've actually eaten [famous vegetable grown in state]. Har! Funny, right?"
[Political guy]: "Oh. Right. Well, that's...something."
[Other political guy]: Noncommittal noise over speaker phone.
Me: Swallowing nervously.
[Political guy]: "OK. I'm going to ask you to write a few things for us. A speech, a press release, an op-ed, and some editing. You'll have until next week to turn it back in to me. Does that sound ok?"
Me: "Yes! That sounds great."
[Political guy]: "Alright. Here's the packet; good luck."
Me: "Thank you! Thank you very much!"
I enthusiastically get to work on said interview homework, which turns out to be very extensive and takes many hours, but I work hard! Do lots of research! I've aced it! I know it!
And, of course....I never heard from them again. Not even an "oh hey, thanks for doing all of this work, but we've decided to go with someone else." Just...silence.
Naturally.
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