My Most Embarrassing Interview Story
With Cazey’s return to land and a recent drive by the scene of the crime, I was reminded of this mortifying tale. Enjoy!
Before my current job, I was hitting the town for a few interviews. There was one that seemed pretty promising. I’d get to do marketing and build email lists, write copy and help support local businesses. We even did a whole personality test, which is always alarming during an interview because then I assume if I don’t get it, it’s because my personality sucks.
However, I thought I was nailing it. I was qualified and excited for the prospects of this role. We spent over an hour longer than anticipated fleshing out ideas and seemed to vibe well. Then salary came out, and I was basically escorted out of the building.
It was apparent I was not going to get this job, so I climbed into my car, ready to go to dinner with Cazey. I turned the key.
Nothing happened.
I panicked a little. This woman promptly ended the interview when I told her how much money I needed. And now I’m just sitting in the parking lot like a stalker. I try the key again. Absolutely nothing happens.
I climb out and walk away. I was not going to be found sitting in my dead car after an excessively long interview and impending rejection.
I tell Cazey to pick me up on the side of the road and take me to dinner. I was wondering if I truly even needed my car ever again. Maybe I would just leave it there forever. It’s better than the alternative of looking like a creep who shows up after a failed interview.
We decide as we eat that we’d return upon nightfall to try to jump my car from his car, which was exceptionally kind of him, as his car was nearly as troubled as mine. The jumping did nothing to improve my car’s condition.
We abandoned the car for the night, and I resolved to have USAA come tow it as early as possible the next day before the woman would notice that my car was still there.
I meet the tow truck at 7AM, which I thought was PLENTY early. He was even there earlier than 7. The coast was clear. Just as my car was hitched and moments way from being hauled away, I turn to see the woman who interviewed me getting out of her car. Like the adult that I am, I throw myself forward so that she can’t see me if she were to look in our direction.
“Did she see me? Oh my gosh, she’s going to call the police because I’m stalking them,” I say, possibly loud enough that she can hear me. I snuck a peek, but couldn’t decide if she saw me or not. We quickly rolled out of the parking lot and I spent the rest of the day wondering if she saw me or not.
Not only did I not get the job, I never even got officially rejected.