Bad Interview Stories

My wife had a series of job interviews recently.  She had to endure four interviews for a position for which only three candidates were being considered, but she was thrilled to eventually get the job.  Still, the whole episode reminded me of some of the most traumatic moments of my life: job interviews.

The job interview process combines all the worst parts of life into one ball of misery: its where humiliation, desperation, intimidation and frustration combine into one self-esteem bursting heap.

I've had more than my share of bad interviews. 

All of these things actually happened to me:

An elderly attorney asked me four times during a 15-minute interview whether I wanted a peppermint. I'm still not sure if my breath was bad or he was senile. Or possibly both. But I still didn't get the job.

While interviewing with a local firm when I was in law school, I wanted to prove that I planned to stay in town long-term.  I mentioned to the interviewer that I owned my condo and intended to stay there. He argued with me, for at least five minutes, that I couldn't possibly have obtained the financing.

In the same interview, I noticed the interviewer doodling on my resume while I answered one of his questions.  When he saw he was busted, he tried to turn his doodle into a large arrow, but it wasn't really pointing at anything.  I didn't get the job.

An interviewer at a large firm in Birmingham firm told me: "If you don't like racism, you shouldn't live in Birmingham."  And I don't.

At the end of a promising interview with a small firm in New Orleans, the hiring partner told me that she had one more interview scheduled, but the remaining candidate wasn't strong and that she'd be calling me to tell me the job was officially mine next week.  When I hadn't heard back from her in two weeks, I called back. The hiring partner had left the firm, and no one remaining there even knew who I was.  Needless to say, I didn't get hired.

At an interview in Pensacola, I was introduced to a sheepish, overwhelmed-looking attorney with his wrist wrapped tightly in a compression bandage.  When I asked him what happened, he replied, "working here."  Later, he offered me what he termed as "survival tips." 

During the same interview, my car slipped out of gear and slid into the middle of the parking lot, blocking traffic completely. The firm was so starved for help they offered me the job regardless.  But I turned it down.

An interviewer at a firm in Mobile noted that my resume mentioned I had been a sports writer for my college newspaper. He refused to continue the interview until I named 10 Boston Red Sox players. And I could only think of 4 or 5 off the top of my head.

In the same interview, the interviewer noted that the "activities" section of my resume listed I was part of a newly started swing dance club that one of my law school friends had started. He put on music and made me show him the basic steps.  But I still didn't get the job. 

A firm in Cincinnati flew me into town the night before my interview and took me to a nice dinner. All was going perfectly until I spilled the remnants of my second glass of red wine onto my only dress shirt as we got up to leave.  The fancy hotel I was staying at somehow managed to get rid of the stain and have the shirt back to me--perfectly pressed--by 8 the next morning.  I didn't get the job, but I still stay at that hotel every time I'm in Cincinnati. 

In St. Louis, a firm asked me if I could come in for a job interview on a Saturday morning.  I did. I ultimately even got the job.  But it wasn't long before I wished I hadn't.  That Saturday morning thing wasn't a fluke--those turned out to be normal working hours.  The only consolation was that weekends were the only days I got to wear jeans.

I had aced a preliminary interview with a firm in Nashville and was feeling good heading into a meeting with the hiring partner. He saw I was from Alabama and asked if I followed the state's politics. I had a poly sci minor from the state's flagship university and considered my reasonably well versed, so I responded affirmatively. He then proceeded to ask me my thoughts on some ridiculously obscure ethics scandal involving a little-known state judge I'd only vaguely even heard of. The only response I could think of was, "that whole thing is just a mess."

I didn't get the job, but I managed to accidentally sum up the job interview process rather well, I'd say.

Got your own bad interview stories?  Feel free to share them in the comments section, below.