Or ‘Why Job Interviews Suck Donkey Balls’
There’s a point in your 30s where “It’s good experience” just doesn’t cut it any more as a reason to go through this awful, awful gauntlet. Good experience for what? How to survive interrogation from the Secret Service? I can assure you all that I am still a babbling fool after many, many interviews, and the experience is certainly not good. They are each as bad as the last, with my success rate (getting the job) an indication of that my experience of the interview means nothing. I’ve had interviews where I literally become disembodied and can see myself from another point of the room, lips flapping, and random sounds coming out. In fact, a former boss literally had to ask me, “Tell me about this really specific experience I know about, you know, that one where you worked here and did this” because I was so bad. And yes, former boss – even after that performance, he still hired me. Lovely man.
And since I can find whatever I want on the Internet, I have evidence that interviews suck here, here and here. Apparently, conducting them by Skype makes no difference, and might be worse. Huzzah! Death to the interview.
After another such experience last week (thankfully, by telephone and therefore reducing the horror marginally), I made a vow. I will never interview again.
Until I become independently wealthy putting my 1,001 ideas into practice, I’m sure I’ll find myself in the chair again soon enough. For the moment, let me enjoy the flash of rebellion in my belly.