Just Another Virtual Interview
A few weeks ago, a recruiter reached out to schedule a virtual interview for a role I felt aligned with my skills and experience. I sat at my desk in my home office with a cup of coffee, nervous but eager for the opportunity.
About fifteen minutes in, the recruiter stopped the interview to tell me that in his years of running interview training for candidates applying for executive roles, one thing he strongly discourages is drinking during an interview. A sip here and there is fine, he said, but I had been taking one after every answer. Distracting, unprofessional, and clearly a tell for nerves in a candidate. I was caught off guard a bit, but recovered quickly as I apologized for the distraction and told him it won’t be an issue moving forward. I also pointed out that I was indeed nervous, but that I’ve always accepted my nerves, sweaty palms, and a dry mouth as a sign that what I’m doing at that moment truly matters to me. The interview went on, but I was uncomfortable and rattled in all the ways he had just flagged. My palms got sweatier, and talking at length about my background dried my mouth out even further.
For the last stretch of the interview he mostly talked about himself. Concert photography, light 3D animation work, creative writing, and other side gigs he keeps when he’s not recruiting or coaching candidates for interviews. He pointed out the Marvel comics I have framed on my office wall. He told me about how personally doesn’t care much for AI, that he can spot an AI generated cover letter from a mile away. A jack of all trades, he called himself. At some point I caught a glimpse of myself in the little video preview box on screen and could see sweat forming under my arms. Nothing to be done about that now, I figured. When he brought up AI, I told him it has its place in creative workflows, but it’s one tool in a creative’s toolbox. My grandfather would’ve told you that you can’t build a house with just one tool. The interview wrapped after about forty minutes. I closed my laptop wondering if the coffee had cost me the job.
The Tire Chandelier
The next day, the recruiter sent me an email to invite me in for a follow-up interview with the art director, and the following day I’m sitting in the lobby when he calls my name. I instantly recognize the same man behind the camera I met earlier in the week, though a bit shorter in person than his on-camera demeanor had led me to expect. He extended his arm in greeting, and as he let go of my grip he mumbled under his breath just loud enough for me to catch,
“Thanks for the wet hand..”
I shrugged it off and told him my sweaty palms are unfortunately genetic, and there isn’t much to be done about it.
He guided me through a tour of the North Scottsdale office, an impressive space with a quirky personality. The lobby had a chandelier made of three stacked truck tires, an indoor half basketball court, Starbucks onsite, massage chairs, and a fully equipped gym. At the end of the tour, I reminded him that during the virtual interview he had mentioned having one more tip for me, something he had wanted to save for in person. He told me to invest in thicker shirts, to keep the sweat stains from showing. I let out a genuine laugh, reminded him that it’s genetic, and joked that I likely cursed my newborn son with it too.
The art director was a different experience entirely. He was a nice guy who reminded me a lot of an old friend from university, and speaking with a fellow creative, we moved easily between my experience, how the team operates, and where I might fit in.
Walking to my car I noticed a text from my uncle asking how the interview went. I told him it went about as well as one could expect, and that if I didn’t get the role, it was likely because another candidate had direct experience in that industry. What I didn’t tell him was that I was already running back through the entire interview in my head, wondering what other nervous tics might’ve given my anxiety away.
The Model Employee
Over the next few days, I kept think about what the recruiter had son on that first call. There’s something strange about a world where people hire a coach specifically to train them out of their nervous system, where the coaching itself is an exercise in masking being human. If a company desires a candidate with no doubt, no stress, nothing that reads as a flaw, it’s worth asking why they still want a human being doing the job at all? Why not remove the human part entirely, if it’s only going to get in the way of efficiency?
The model employee isn’t a new fantasy. Interview coaching and professional grooming have been around for decades, demanding the working class to strive toward a standard of composure that was always, quietly, impossible. It was a standard no actual person could fully meet, because meeting it would mean not being a person. AI didn’t change the standard, it convinced the corporate world that the standard is no longer impossible. Right now there’s a worker who’s on call 24/7, uses zero PTO, needs no health insurance or bonuses, never clocks in late, and will never shake your hand with a sweaty palm. What does that mean for us poor humans, in a world that chooses industry and efficiency over humanity and empathy?
We Regret to Inform You...
The email came at the end of last week. They decided to go with other candidates who more closely aligned with their needs. I told myself something better would come along. Now, I’m sitting down to prep for a preliminary interview through an AI recruitment service, and I can’t help but wonder what the professional world might look like when my son is old enough to sit in a chair like this one, wonder whether I should look into the surgery form him that I researched so obsessively back in high school that promises to significantly reduce sweat in the palms, and wonder if an AI recruiter is capable of being distracted by my Dr. Doom mug.
Up Next
Check Out More Blog Posts
