Many moons ago, when I was a newly minted librarian, I found myself in a publishing job where I was responsible for creating indexes for various works. I did this for eight years, supervising a small staff, tweaking techniques, and so on.

Indexing was still a niche business, but many libraries suddenly wanted their various historical and newspaper collections indexed and were hiring.

My state library had one such position. My resume was received with enthusiasm, and my first interview was with the head of the library. He finished our review with:

Library Head: “You will fit in well. Your next interview will be with the reference staff next week.”

So, the next week, I used one of my precious vacation days to return. The reference staff greeted me like an old friend and presented me with bagels and tea, and that was how we interviewed — over tea. One of the questions was about my cooking ability, as they had many parties. Once again, the interview ended with:

Staff: “Well, we have one other applicant, but, seriously, we are sure you are the best match. Once you get here, we’ll help you look for housing.”

I left, excited about the prospects. When I got home, there was a letter waiting for me, telling me they were going with another candidate. Yes, they mailed my rejection out before they even interviewed me.

It turned out there was an internal candidate who already HAD the job, but they were required to interview outsiders anyway.

A year later, the same job was posted again. Still in my twenties and naive, I reapplied. This time, my interview was again with the head librarian, with whom I’d had other interactions over the year. THIS time, he couldn’t remember that we even knew each other and there was no call back.

At least I didn’t use up as much vacation time. And I suspect I dodged a bullet.

I’m dressed up for an interview for a pretty nice store. I’m in all black with a dress shirt, pants, and shoes, with my keys clipped to my belt loop because that’s just where I keep them. I’m waiting on the manager to come and interview me for the job, hanging out up front, probably looking nervous.

A customer walks up to me.

Customer: “Can you tell me where [item] is?”

Me: “I don’t work here, but I know those are just around the corner. I shop here a lot, and I love [item]!”

I take the customer there and point it out.

After that, I meet up with the manager. The interview goes pretty well, though I’m super nervous.

We’re talking about details and follow-up as I make my way toward the front, where the checkouts are, and the customer I helped points me out.

Customer: “There! She helped me find this!”

I was hired that instant.

I’m currently job hunting in Brazil, and I get lucky and am able to score an interview in a lab. I arrange with the professor in charge to interview on a certain day, but she warns me that things might have to change as her father is going to have surgery. I say that of course that is not a problem and I hope I will see her soon.

The day before my interview, I get an email from the professor saying that her father “faleceu”, which I understand to mean that there have been some complications and she needs to be there to take care of him, so she needs to reschedule the interview. I send an email back saying it’s not a problem and wishing the best of luck to her father.

Later at lunch, I mention this to my boyfriend, and he asks to check the email. He is a native Portuguese speaker, while I am still learning but at a decent level. He then turns to me with a look of complete horror.

Boyfriend: “[My Name], her father didn’t worsen. He died! Please tell me you didn’t wish for him to get better!”

Me: “Not exactly. I did wish him the best of luck, though.”

Cue frantic scrambling by both of us to draft an email begging for forgiveness and asking if I could start again. Luckily, it was clear from the CV I had submitted that Portuguese wasn’t my first language

I got the first interview, and I don’t think I did too badly as I got a call back for the job. Lesson learned, though: always double-check unfamiliar words before replying to emails.

Maybe twenty-two years ago, I had a phone interview with a baking company. I didn’t care to have my peers know what I was up to, so I took the call on my cell phone in my car. The call was crystal clear and had no technical issues.

At one point, the interviewer mentioned the weather.

Interviewer: “How’s the weather where you are?”

Me: “I’m sitting in my car, and it’s actively snowing right now.”

Interviewer: “Are you taking this call on a cell phone?”

Me: “Yes, I am.”

Interviewer: “Do you think that’s appropriate?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Interviewer: “I think it’s kind of rude to take a formal call on a cell phone.”

Me: “I would be more than happy to conclude the interview if talking on a cell phone is an issue. If you are interested, I’d be happy to continue it tomorrow when I’ll be at a desk.”

Interviewer: “It’s so rude that you called me from a cell phone. There’s no need to continue with the interview process.”

I disagreed with the first point but did agree with the second. 

To this day, I wonder what the h*** he was talking about and where he was coming from.

I was between jobs when I got an offer for an interview offering $25 an hour. Curious, but cautious, I went in. I learned that it was a group interview with several workers. But it was a catered interview, and I like a good tiny sandwich, so… whatever.

The first thing that our interviewer did was ask if any of us had researched his company on the Better Business Bureau. A few people raised their hands, and he went to talk to them in private. He came back. They didn’t.

Then, he launched into a very emotional story about how he had been in a hard place and this job had saved his life, and he didn’t understand why so many people thought it was a scam. He literally started sobbing gigantic crocodile tears and had to be ushered out of the room by his assistants.

The assistants then told their own stories. I ate some more sandwiches.

Finally, the guy said he’d interview us one on one. In the one-on-one, he said that I had “great potential”. To get the job, we needed to put down a deposit of $600, but we’d soon be making $100,000 a year.

I laughed in his face and told him he could take his obvious scam and shove it up his a**. As I walked out, I tried to grab another sandwich for the road, but his assistants physically interposed themselves between me and the snack table. So, I left.