I bombed a job interview

 I spent a good portion of my time Fall semester trying to find an internship. I did my best to apply anywhere and everywhere. I finally did what I was advised by so many which was to use my resources and do some networking. My father had worked very closely with a man I knew was in close relation with KSL, a news station in Salt Lake City.  I used this as an opportunity and was pleased to see that I would receive an interview.

I got a phone call from a receptionist where she asked if I could come to Salt Lake the next day for a personal interview. I consented. She continued to tell me the interviewing process. My mouth separated slightly and my eyes glazed over as I transfixed on the wall. Apparently it was protocol for KSL interviews to be first, a current events quiz, followed by a writing portion and then finally the actual interview. The process was expected to take approximately two hours. Two hours. 2. My mind clouded as I realized I knew almost nothing about what was going on in the world, United States, anywhere. I wasn’t all too concerned about the written portion, but I knew if I didn’t want to look like a complete moron I had to start studying, and start studying now. 

I spent the next 24 hours studying everything about what was going on in the world that day, week, last two weeks, the weeks to come. I felt like I knew mostly everything and availed every opportunity to brush up on my current events. I spoke with friends to nail the actual interview portion of the evening and felt fairly confident.

This is the shirt I decided to wear. Not so bad
right? Wish my mom came with me.

I asked my roommate and one of my best friends Kai to join me on my journey south as to help me stay calm and have some pleasant company. She helped me pick out my “smart” yet “I’m still me” interview outfit. I settled on a gold shirt, grey skirt, purple heels and red purse. It sounds like a mess of colors and silly when I write it, but I promise I looked smart and like Sarah. I felt confident and kept telling myself, “How bad could it really be?” HA. I was in for it.

After quite the journey and being vastly confused as to where the building was, I finally found where the interview was to take place. I sat and waited anxously for my interviewer to arrive. And she did.

The interviewer. Name: Keri. Occupation: Pyschotic. Hair color: Red. Sweet. When she called me back, she looked at my purse like I was an idiot. Sorry I have to put my keys somewhere and don’t own a briefcase full of random documents. However it starts out fine. I’m feeling confident.

This is when she tells me she’s going to quiz me on politics. Whakk. I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT POLITICS. I don’t even know the basics. I don’t know what Secretary of State means. I don’t know what the Supreme Court means. Checks and balances have no meaning to me other than a pocket book and beams. I was in such trouble.

She proceeded to ask me question after question to do with the United States government. World leaders. U.S. political leaders. With exception to one or two times I just looked at her blankly. My eyes must have looked like tennis balls. I would then either mutter, “I dunno,” or muster some sort of uncomfortable laugh and then say, “I dunno,” or just exhale loudly and then just shake my head. Things were starting off great.

When things are going so horrible for me, my mind does this weird thing where it gives up before I do. This happens in every aspect. If I start eating a little junk food somewhere inside I say, “What’s the point,” and end up eating the equivalent of a small human being. Or when I’m getting a low grade in a class, I get to a point where I realize I cannot recover and I simply desist trying. Well… I had given up after a million “….I’m not sure”’s, and I could feel my temperature rising and my nervous habits seeping into the conversation.

I made the mistake of telling her my father worked in Afghanistan. When she asked me who Karzai was, I froze. Karzai. Why did I feel I had heard that name so many times?? I sat in disbelief that I knew absolutely nothing. I felt like dying was the only real solution to my situation. Instead of pulling a “Borne” and trying to kill myself with a pen, I resorted to my habit where I get extremely uncomfortable to peal my nails. At this point, my nails were bleeding. Actually bleeding. WHY AM I NOT JOKING.

Her reactions were the exact opposite of reassuring as she continued she snort, shake her head and raise her eyebrows. In addition to my ridiculous lack of knowledge, there was a very real personality conflict that could in no way be denied.

I had come to the realization there was no way I was going to be able to salvage this interview. There was no possible way. There was no way that every other intern they interviewed knew as little I did. Actually impossible. However, she proceeded to lead me to a different room where I was to do the writing portion of the interview.

She explained how the process was going to take place. I couldn’t tell you what I was supposed to do now. I couldn’t then. My mind raced as I realized I actually had no idea what was going on. It sounded like this:

“First you will approach the Gate of Salvation. At the gate you will be approached by Intreped the Unicorn who will then lead you to the Bridge of a Thousand Tears. At the Bridge you will be asked five questions, and you must answer each ending in a preposition. After you cross the bridge you will be directed to the Golden Cape where you will knock on the Blue Boulder six times…..” and so on.

I WAS SO CONFUSED.

I sat down and realized right there that the writing portion was going to take me at least an hour. But I wrote away. This is where things start to slightly change. At this point, I absolutely knew there was no way I was going to get this internship. No way. So I availed this as an opportunity to do one of my favorite things. And write. Even with the knowledge that me writing these stories would amount to nothing, I knew I was enjoying myself. At that moment I realized what I enjoyed more than almost anything was just that: writing. Time: not wasted.

After a solid hour I was directed to find my interviewer to tell her I was finished and then proceed to the actual interview portion of the…. “Experience” I’ll call it.

I found her sitting talking with one of her colleagues. I waited her to finish her conversation and then went to tell her I was finished. “Connie. Connie? Connie??” No response. “Connie?” I said a bit louder.

“You mean Keri?” she responded.

Yup. Yup. I meant Keri. How badly do I wish I was joking right now. I’m not. I just laughed and said, “I don’t know what to say.” She led me to the Exit.  I thanked her for her time and headed for my car. I immediately pulled out my phone and called my mom.

Okay. Now, this was such a horrifying experience. The only way it could have been worse was if I shot her. I am still in disbelief over how horrible it went. Can you believe I’m grateful it happened? I can. I found out that day my passion lied with writing. And let’s be honest. Ridiculous experiences make for funny stories. And what can you call this other than ridiculous. Oh Connie. Sorry I still call you Connie.