I have a job, but I am casually looking for better compensation (and not retail). I mention this to a friend, and he says his job is hiring. It’s warehouse order fulfillment, so it’s not my cup of tea, but I would only have to travel ten minutes to work instead of half an hour. I tell him I will look into it, but the next day, I get a phone call. 

Me: “Hello?”

Recruiter #1: “Hi, this is [Recruiter #1] at [Company]. Can I speak to [My Name]?”

Me: “Speaking?”

Recruiter #1: “Hi, thank you for taking my call today…”

He goes into a speech, talking about the great opportunities his company provides, the benefits, the hours, and so on. 

Me: “That’s great. So, it’s full-time?”

Recruiter #1: “Yes! We work up to sixty hours per week.”

Me: “That’s a lot. I do have a job right now, so—”

Recruiter #1: “Oh, we were under the impression that you were unemployed.”

Me: “No, I have a job. I’m just seeing what else is out there to decide if I want to switch career paths.”

Recruiter #1: “Well, great!”

The next part of the conversation is what feels like an interview. He asks about my previous job experience, how I handle pressure in the workplace, and whether I can lift up to fifty pounds.

Recruiter #1: “Well, this has been great! Do you have any questions for me?”

Me: “Could you tell me the pay range for this position?”

Recruiter #1: “The… pay range?”

Me: “Right. Like, [Local Gas Station] has window clings saying they pay $13 an hour to start. What is your starting rate?”

Recruiter #1: “Oh. Um, I’m not sure. We can discuss that during your interview, though.”

Me: “I thought we just did the interview?”

Recruiter #1: “No, this is just the initial contact. We can set up an interview for [time and date] if that works for you.”

Me: “Okay…”

The interview time comes, and the conversation is much the same: employment history, conflict resolution, and so on and so on.

Recruiter #2: “Well, I think you would be a great fit for [Company]. If you can come by today, we can get your drug test done, and as long as everything comes back clean, you can start next week.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what is the starting wage?”

Recruiter #2: “Oh, [Recruiter #1] should have told you.”

Me: “He said that would be discussed in this interview.”

Recruiter #2: “I see. Well… I will have to get back to you on that. Are you able to come get your drug test paperwork today?”

Me: “I would like to know the pay before continuing any further with this process.”

Recruiter #2: *Getting annoyed* “That’s not something we discuss outside the company.”

Me: “But you just said [Recruiter #1] should have told me. How can—”

Recruiter #2: “I will have to have someone call you with that information. I don’t have it on hand.”

Me: “Okay. Once I have that, I will decide if I want to join [Company].”

He hangs up without another word. I have basically decided that I’m not taking this job, but I still want to know the pay; their avoidance of the subject just makes me want to press harder.

A week goes by before my next call. [Recruiter #3] goes through the same interview questions, talks about the same benefits… and avoids the same question.

Recruiter #3: “We offer a lot of great benefits, and—”

Me: “Look, I am not going to go forward with this until someone tells me the pay range.”

Recruiter #3: “I don’t have that information on hand.”

Me: “Your team has called numerous times, and I’ve answered the same questions time and again, but nobody there can tell me what the hourly rate will be. If the next person to reach out doesn’t have the answer, I will not be taking the job.”

Recruiter #3: “Okay. Well, thank you for your time.”

They did not call again. I asked my friend what he started at, and he told me it was a dollar above minimum wage.

I was involved in a group “interview” once for a company doing game testing, and the interview was actually legitimate. It was more like a group “come in and fill out hiring paperwork” than an actual interview, likely because there was a high turnover rate due to the work being inconsistent.

Once “hired”, I basically had to call in every day and hope they had shifts available, and they could be morning, afternoon, or the dead of night. Workers could also sign up for the “bullpen” list, and if people didn’t show up for their shifts, they’d pull in people from the bullpen to cover.

I literally saw people sleeping in the cafeteria after finishing a night shift so they could sign up for the bullpen a few hours later in the morning, hoping to pick up more hours.

It was fine if you were just looking to earn a bit of extra cash, but it was awful if you needed a consistent schedule and paycheck.

This story is from a while ago now, and it is very much paraphrased and some of the legal language has been simplified to layman’s terms.

I am applying for a legal job that’s very much inside my profession — so much so that when sending in my resume, I include in my hobbies section my personal blog, which at the time is a relatively well-read website about the very niche section of law I studied. (This is before social media, and the average Internet user’s attention span was, shall we say, longer?)

I started the blog when I was in law school, and I thought including it when applying for this particular law firm was a good idea since they notoriously only hire graduates from my particular law school.

I am halfway through my interview, and I feel it is going well. I am answering the questions calmly and quickly, making sure to showcase my deep knowledge of the subjects. I am being interviewed by three partners at the firm, and one of them has been silently glaring at me the whole time. He finally speaks up.

Partner: “I noticed that on your resume you lied about your authoring [Legal Blog]. That’s not a good look.”

Me: *Momentarily taken aback* “I… I didn’t lie about that. That’s my blog.”

Partner: “That blog is written by an A.B. Smith.”

Me: “That’s a pen name. I am the actual author, and I have the credentials to prove it.”

Partner: “That blog is written by a man, and not by a fresh graduate.”

Me: “Can you please specify where in the blog it indicates the gender of the author or reveals any details about their age or professional status? If you’d just let me—”

Partner: “It’s just not a good look. It’s not a good look for us to consider hiring someone who tries to plagiarize someone else’s work, and it’s an even worse look for you.”

Despite my attempts to protest, this partner seems to hold a bigger sway over the other two, so the interview is cut short, and I am given the polite “Thank you for coming in” speech that means, “It’s a no.” I can’t be sure, but I also get the distinct vibe from this older man that he can’t be convinced that a young woman could write my blog.

When I get home, I admit that I am angry, and when I am angry, I write. I write up a blog about the interview. (I don’t name names, but I do name the law firm.)

I write about how ironic it is that a law firm dedicated to upholding the law has partners who are self-appointed judges, juries, and executioners who are disinterested in looking at the evidence.

I write about the disappointment of going to my particular law school in the hopes of working for this particular firm and that, despite my obvious knowledge of my material and my darn-good score when passing the bar, I have been dismissed because of one item on the “hobbies” section of my resume.

I also write about the hint of sexism in the experience, being very careful to word that section in a way that isn’t libelous (lawyer here!).

I put the blog up and go about my day.

A few weeks later, I get a call from a woman I have never heard of.

Caller: “Hi, this is [Caller] from [Law Firm that I interviewed for]. Is this [My Name]?”

Me: “That is me.”

Caller: “Great! Do you also go by [Pen Name] and write the [Blog]?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Caller: “I am calling to ask you to take down [blog about the interview]. It contains information that is factually incorrect, and we—”

Me: “Who is ‘we’?”

Caller: “I am calling from [Law Firm].”

Me: “Yes, but who are you, exactly? Are you a lawyer?”

Caller: “I’m a legal secretary.”

Me: “And who do you work for?”

Caller: “[Law Firm].”

Me: “Yes, again, I know that. Do you work for a particular partner?”

Caller: *Hesitantly* “I work for [Partner].”

As I suspected, this is the same partner who outright called me a liar.

Me: “Have [Partner] call me directly.”

Caller: “Well, he’s a very busy—”

Me: “Have him call me. I won’t talk to anyone else.”

I hang up, feeling my anger rising again but also feeling a shot of adrenaline from the knowledge that I’ve rattled the cage of the lawyer who wronged me.

Less than an hour later, I get another call. It’s the partner himself! Ignoring niceties, he jumps straight into his demand.

Partner: “Look, take down that hit piece. It’s a blatant lie and—”

Me: “Oh, so in the interview, you accused me of not being capable of authoring that blog, but now you expect me to take down something from that very same blog? Which is it? You can’t have it both ways.”

Partner: “Look, you’ve made your point, but the fact remains that what you’ve written is factually incorrect and—”

Me: “Tell me anything that’s written in that blog that didn’t actually happen.”

Partner: “You called me sexist!”

Me: “Did I mention you by name?”

Partner: “You know that’s not relevant—”

Me: “I know what’s relevant in a court of law. Do you?” 

Partner: “Look, can you please take down the blog? It’s been commented on a lot at [Law School], and it’s affecting our recruitment.”

Me: “Why? Are you worried it’s ‘not a good look‘?“

There is a pause. He recognizes the phrase.

Partner: “Take it down, or we’ll sue for libel—”

Me: “Send it to A.B. Smith.”

There was another pause. I decided right there and then that if this man apologized and admitted his mistake, I would gladly take down the blog and move on with my life. Instead, he just hung up, and I kept the blog up.

Over twenty years later, I still haven’t been sued.

I was laid off before Thanksgiving, so I am in a tailspin to find a new job. I found a consulting group via LinkedIn and applied. A week later, I got an invite to interview. 

On the day of the interview, I headed over to their headquarters, and the greeter sat me down in a large conference room with no windows. I was waiting for maybe twenty minutes. Then, I heard a knock, and a lady stepped in. This woman had the lowest-cut shirt I’ve ever seen in a corporate setting. I’m a woman, too, so I definitely understand pushing the boundaries of BS dress codes, but this lady had 75% of her ta-tas out. I was shocked, but at the same time, I was telling myself, “It’s pretty cool if they’re this lax about office attire.”

She introduced herself as the head of Human Resources. We exchanged pleasantries, and she started asking me typical questions about myself (where I studied, where I’m from, etc.) for about fifteen minutes. Then:

Head Of HR: “All righty, you ready to start the interview?”

Thinking I was already in the interview, I agreed with some surprise. Then, there was another knock on the door. It was a young man in his early thirties (definitely much younger than the HR lady). He introduced himself as the Vice President. I sat there thinking, “Oh, wow, I’m the same age as the VP.”

He started talking about the company, and after another fifteen minutes, he asked if I was (again) ready to start the interview. Again, with some surprise knowing I’d been here for an hour, I said yes.

Vice President: “I see you studied public health. I hope you understand that while we are a healthcare-facing company, we don’t necessarily ‘help’ people.”

Me: *Flabbergasted and shyly* “Oh, okay. I understand.” 

Vice President: “To start off, I have a question for you. Oil companies that’ve experienced the most fines tend to have the least environmental incidents (spills, etc.), while oil companies with little to no fines have more environmental incidents. Can you explain why the latter have been able to get away with it for so long?” 

Keep in mind… this was a HEALTHCARE CONSULTING GROUP. They had nothing to do with the oil industry. But at that point, I wouldn’t have been shocked if question two had been, “If you were to defraud the IRS, how would you do it?” 

I gave them sheepish answers to their questions (which all inexplicably had to do with evading government fines). At the end, I was definitely sure I wouldn’t be invited back… and deep down, I was fine with that. But to my surprise, they called me two days later for a second round. 

Against my better judgment, I accepted. I met with the same HR lady, now dressed like she was going to a nunnery after her shift with the most shapeless dress I’ve ever seen on a human. She welcomed me again.

Head Of HR: “Are you ready for the case study?”

Case study?! Literally nobody told me about a case study! We sat down in the same dungeon room as she administered it. To be honest, I had lost all interest at this point and was giving BS answers. I barely even remember the questions. I was completely disassociated.

At the end, they thank me for my time. This time for sure I absolutely knew I hadn’t gotten the job.

But then, they called me for a THIRD ROUND. I very politely declined on the phone, telling them I had been accepted at another job.

I hadn’t been. I am still jobless. But I’m not desperate, and this job threw every species of red flag in my face.

These days, I’m eating cereal at 3:00 pm, watching re-runs of “90 Day Fiancé”, and living off of my savings. And I’m okay with that.

I used to work as a librarian at a college. We were looking to hire a new librarian, and I went out to lunch with one of the candidates.

Candidate: “Who’s paying for lunch?”

Me: “The university.”

He ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. I told the Search Committee, “Don’t offer him the job. He won’t take it.”

They offered him the job. He turned it down. We lost the position.