“Tell us a little bit about yourself…”

Oh, the job interview. That lovely little interrogation where you lay yourself bare, trying to condense your entire work history, skills, and personality into the first 60 seconds of conversation. For someone who has owned her own business for 12 years, and without any tangible skills for which a recent supervisor can vouch, this has become an exercise. Most of the time, I can nail it. I’ve had lots of practice lately. But there’s times, like today, where I endured equal parts humility and humiliation, confidence and confusion. And why would I not want to share this glorious train wreck with all of you? 

What you are about to see is real. No Macas were harmed in the making of this story. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Let me back up by telling you why I went on the interview in the first place, then you can relish in why I crashed and burned so fabulously.

First, I have been applying at specifically government and law enforcement jobs. I still have a passion for public service, I have the unique skill set to qualify, and the pay is better than in the private sector. I started applying in August to various jobs that didn’t require shift work, but could still tap into what I know and where my strengths lie. Starting in August, I began the job hunt.

I came across a post in late September for something that sounded interesting and, based on my understanding of the position, for which I was totally qualified. (I don’t toss out my resume like Mardi Gras beads. I don’t waste the hiring manager’s time.) It took about 4 weeks before I heard anything back, and I was invited to take a Civil Service exam. For those who have never had the privilege, it’s a skills/comprehension/aptitude test for government work that is directly related to the position requirements. In other words, you gotta know your stuff.

Right about Page 3 is where I realized my mistake. Even my rusty skills and arcane knowledge of some Texas law and procedures couldn’t help me. I limped through the rest of the test, and even though I was fairly certain I passed, I knew that I was not the highest scoring participant. I chalked it up to an experience and went on with life.

That’s where the story should have ended.

I interviewed with my first choice company on Monday, and had received a voicemail during my time there. It was from this other position, asking if I was available to interview the next day. It’s unusual (based on my experience interviewing there in the past) for them not to schedule days or weeks in advance, but I figured why not? (I always want to have options until I actually sign on the dotted line somewhere for employment. ) 

I figured that if I got this call, then maybe I did better than I thought. I did some prep on the position, typed up some notes on skill and background that I could refer to, and basically readied myself for an interview that was cut from the same mold as the others.

Oh, predictability, where is thy sting?

First, I had been contacted on the phone by Human Resources, not anyone from the oral board. Given sufficiently vague instructions about where to enter the building (which were suspiciously identical to how I have always entered the building, so I didn’t ask for elaboration), I simply took the elevator to the fourth floor like I was told.

Strike One.

No, no. It’s the east entrance to the other county building. Riiiiiiight.

Directions given: Go to the fourth floor and wait in the lobby.

Elevator doors open, and there’s really no lobby to speak of. There’s a bench against the wall directly across from the elevator, but the only lobby is of the Sheriff’s Department (which is technically related to this position) so I wait there.

Time starts ticking toward 2:00 P.M., and I haven’t seen the usual person come out 10 minutes early to hand me the interview questions, like every. single. interview. before. I start to wonder if I’m really in the right spot. There’s a few other people in the lobby, so just as I’m thinking I should get up and start asking questions, a woman pokes her head in and says, “Is anyone here for a job interview?” Somewhat sheepishly, I raise my hand. She asks my name, we shake hands, and she leads me out of the lobby, past the elevators to an unmarked door. I apologized if I was in the wrong spot, and she goes, “Oh, no worries. It’s kind of a lobby inside a lobby.” I was expecting to be led into a vestibule or waiting room on the other side of the unmarked door. 

Strike Two.

The door opens, and it’s a massive, state-of-the-art conference room with a lady sitting behind the table long enough to stand in for seating a State dinner. Short introductions were made, along the lines of “Hi, I’m Becky and this is Beatrice, have seat,” and I was expecting to get settled, exchange pleasantries, and for them to start with details about the position, pay scale, and work schedule like every other time I’d done this. 

Tsk, tsk. None of that here. “Becky” was the one who came to get me. “Beatrice” was waiting to jump right into the questions. I tried to make myself comfortable despite my already jangled nerves, and I pretty much ended up looking like I was having a bad meth trip. The arms on the chair were too high to fit under the table, so I was to far away to rest comfortably there with my arms crossed, and the chair was too low to the ground for me to cross my legs or ankles without tipping forward with my clavicle banging into the table’s edge. So I awkwardly tried to rest my forearm on one armrest, cross my knees, and lean casually like nothing in the world is bothering me right now.

Instead of the usual preamble, Beatrice simply says, “We will have about 25 minutes to go over these 12 questions. We will each take turns asking. We have up to 30 minutes if needed.” It wasn’t quite as impersonal as it sounds, but halfway through the statement, I was doubting that I was in the right place. They could have started asking me to explain how I was qualified to be the IT Systems Director. I had NO idea what was coming. Becky then says, “Tell us about your background and skills related to the position of [she then actually said the position] and why you want the job.”

Thankfully, I was prepared for this question, and I pretty much gave a solid answer. I was starting to feel a little more comfortable, but my mouth had already gone dry and I already talk fast, so my words came out a little thick and clumsy. I had to take a breath, but not visibly, or else I’d run the risk of hyperventilating.

I had finally hit my stride with the ensuing questions. Not perfect answers, but at least I answered intelligently. I’m glad I established that first because it was then that I realized they just smooth drew me into a trap.

The third to last question started the spectacular flaming out. As I mentioned to my sister, I can assure you that the Hindenburg went down more gracefully. I couldn’t even tell you quite what was asked. It was about Public Information Records requests, but I could no more give them a suitable answer than if they’d asked me to explain the Second Law of Thermodynamics. I couldn’t have looked, felt, or acted more derpy. Until…

Steeeeeee-rike Three.

The second to last question took up about 5 lines on the paper in front of Beatrice. It was that involved. Multi-faceted, multi-step scenario that, again, I had absolutely no basis for even formulating a response. And what does this one do? I ASKED HER TO REPEAT THE QUESTION. Like I was going to be able to Phone a Friend. Sweet Jesus, someone save me from myself.

At least I was honest and told them – each time – I had absolutely no background or knowledge of those subjects, so I couldn’t speak to how I could manage an intelligent answer. (There’s that word again. Y’all, I promise I’m smart!)

The last question was the coup de grâce. At least I knew I was going home when they said, “Is there anything else you’d like to share with us regarding your experience or background that you haven’t already shared?”

At this point, even my sense of humor failed me. What I actually said was along the lines of, “Hard skills are obviously something, as a supervisor, I would need to be capable of doing. Especially if I am managing a team. I need to be able to do their tasks. But what I can bring to the table are soft skills: years of cultivating my ability to develop training and procedures, manage and motivate people, and want to see everyone perform at their best. Those are skills that aren’t always able to be trained, and I’m confident that I could perform well in this position.”

Yes, y’all. I said that. 

Then, as I fought the urge to flee as if threatened by a knife-wielding clown, I graciously shook their hands, swallowed my apology (I didn’t have anything to apologize for tbh), and wished them a happy Thanksgiving.

Looking back, and reviewing how I completely missed the mark, it really wasn’t me. It was the job posting. I had prepped for this interview when I was invited for the Civil Service test. I copied and pasted the job posting, then added my own notes where I felt I was qualified and prepared for the job. I knew in my GUT that I could totally do this job. Totally. I even reviewed this information before my face-to-face meeting. Nothing led me to believe that I would need to know what they needed me to know in this interview.

Bottom line: I can’t be blamed entirely for being unprepared. And I still exited with my dignity intact.  *curtsy*

Now, I get to wait for the “we’ve selected another applicant but thanks for applying” email. No duh. Keep moving…