Interviews, quelle horreur!
Well. Here I am – qualified and knowing that “You better work!” isn’t just a drag queen mantra. After a minor meltdown, I’m back in the interview saddle. Those similarly situated should know that the game has changed.
Here’s what you can expect.
1) The interview where you wear a suit and your prospective boss wears flip-flops. This happened to me three times. One micro-skirted woman lost her flip-flop when she crossed her legs like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, and only the fact that her flip-flop fortuitously flew foiled a furor over her flap. She worked for a Big 4 accounting firm, BTW. Her colleague was wearing stained khakis and a polo that barely protected his paunch from being peeped. Let it all hang out, guys! I don’t mind befouling my Hugo Boss in NYC’s summer heat so that I can show you the respect you think you deserve.
***Counterattack – Poise. Pretend to see nothing when this happens. Follow it with a very direct gaze when they pull themselves together. No smile, no jokey laughter, no commiseration. I was tempted to take off a 5 pound wingtip and hurl it across the room in solidarity, but I actually want this particular position, so I chilled. Very coldly.
2) The overtly hostile interview. This is designed to make you feel inferior to gauge your response to pressure. It’s a childish form of play-acting which will manifest early on:
Corporate Tool: “I don’t see any Anti-Money Laundering experience on your resume.”
Me: “Well, I was the Chief AML Officer for SwissBank for 5 years – it’s the first bullet point on page -”
Tool: *interrupts* “Yeah, I guess you would know where it is.”
Me: *short laugh*, then, brightly: “Good thing one of us did!”
Alrighty, then! He told me he didn’t bother to read my CV before I came in for what was my fourth interview, and I told him he was an asshole. I later told the recruiter who had sent me there that she was going to need a lot of luck filling that role.
***Counterattack – Politeness, normally. But whan you’ve been directly insulted, feel free to hand it back to the person, because you have nothing whatsoever to lose at that point. Here’s the distinction:
A) Interviewer: “You have a lot of experience but it’s all over the map. We only do one of these things here. Why should we consider you?” *tosses resume to desk like a dirty Kleenex*
You: “Because I excel in that area, and here’s how. (list accomplishments) Also, the ability to learn new things in a rapidly changing environment should be considered an asset by any company, no matter what they specialize in. Right?”
B) Interviewer: “We produce a beautiful written product here. Your resume is TWO AND A HALF PAGES! You don’t need all this! I’m frankly concerned about your editing skills.”
You: “I’ve edited procedures manuals down from 300 pages to 80, and managed to please both the various department heads and the SEC with the results. I’ve also been in the securities industry for 22 years, working for various firms with different business models. I’m also concerned that you find my resume excessive. What would you remove?” *hands interviewer pen*
3) The resume collector. This is a recruiter or an HR head who isn’t working on an active position, but might sometime in the future. He knows that a not-quite-real job won’t get you to haul ass to his office for a pre-screen interview, so he lies in the advertisment and on the phone. Then, when you get there, you will hear:
a) I’m not sure you’re a good fit for this one, but I’ll keep your CV on file…
b) This position is actually in Saskatoon, Canada, didn’t I tell you? I’ll keep your CV on file…
c) The job got filled while you were on the train to come here. Oh well! I’ll keep your CV on file…
d) Well, it was really nice to meet you! I’ll keep your CV on file…
Well. They know this is wrong, but they do not care. Specific questions about the specific advert will get you nowhere fast, but at least he will squirm a bit. As he should, this weasely turd who offered A Real Job and then handed you a goddamn Velveteen Rabbit full of smallpox germs.
***Counterattack – Whatever facial expression you use to convey to someone that you know that they are full of shit. Mine is the Eyebrow Of Doom. My hair is very short, and the closer my right eyebrow gets to my hairline, the more full of shit I think you are. A ladypal of mine uses her left dimple as the Detector Of Baloney: her face remains as impassive as the erstwhile Daria Morgendorffer’s, but that dimple is very much in evidence when she smirks. Practice at home, kittens, you’ll need this one later.
4) The interruptor. She breathes clouds of caffienated fumes over your responses to her staccato questions and cuts you off before you’re done answering them.
All you can do here is smile and take a deep breath. A deep breath of her stale coffee and Red Door Perfume and hand sanitizer. This statement works wonders: “Now that we’ve talked about the role, can I guide you through my resume so I can show you how my skills can best help ConglomeFuck?”
***Counterattack – Look a bit confused by what she’s saying, even if you’re not. It usually slows them down enough for you to get a word in.
5) The Artful Dodger. He lies about why the position is open, and you know he’s lying because he told the recruiter something different and you got yet a third verson from another interviewer. He won’t answer specific questions about duties, support staff, or hours. He uses lots of jargon – “metrics” and “deliverables” and “synergy” and “knob polishing”. (Ok I made that last one up. But he made up the other three.)
You have some choices here. You can run screaming into the street, then text “ARGLEBARGLE” to your recruiter and go to a gay sports bar to buy a gay rugby player a Singapore Sling and ask if he has one of his own at home. Or you can pay close attention to other people and the office dynamic as you walk through. A good question here would be “Describe a day in the life of someone working in this position?” (NB – this works with the rugby player, too.) Or “Do you enjoy what you do? Why?” Or “What would be expected during the first six months?” It’s hard to be evasive with these questions.
I hope that these techniques are useful to my fellow CT’rs, whether employed or not. Seriously, try the Eyebrow Of Doom. And when all else fails, dance!