Interviewing, or How I Told a Prospective Employer I’m a Slave.


There was a suggestion on the Daily Post today that actually intrigued me for once: interview another Post a Day participant. I thought it might be fun to exchange questions with another blogger, then video ourselves answering each other’s questions. It would be my first vlog, and probably pretty rough, but I really think it would be great fun.

Comment below if you’d like to trade questions. Since I don’t have many readers, I’ll do this with anyone who comments. And no question is off limits! That’s kind of what makes this a bit more intriguing. Oh, one last thing before we get into the meaty part of this post: you also must have a blog. I want to be able to see your response on your site.

So here’s the fun stuff: a humiliating story about my first job interview ever. I was 17 and looking for a job so I could get a car and start making my own way in the world. While scanning through the newspaper classified section (I’ve always been old school that way), I found an ad for a mass interview for Cold Stone Creamery.

This was the first job for which I applied, so I was really excited. I filled out an online application and soon heard from the manager. He asked me to come in for the interview, told me where to meet, and told me to bring a sheet with some references.

The day of the interview, I realized exactly how terrified I was. Not yet able to drive by myself, I had to have my sister take me to the community center where everyone was meeting. She seemed pretty compliant, and even came inside with me while I waited. The room wasn’t packed, but there were quite a few kids there looking to get jobs.

When it was my turn to talk with the managers, I turned to my sister and said, God as my witness, “I got this, bitch.”

I walked over like I owned the place, sat down, and proceeded to learn why some people remain unemployed by choice: they must hate the interview process as much as I do. There are just some people who should not interview others for jobs. Throughout my time in the wild world of work, I’ve had bad interviews where I control the whole thing, bad interviews where I try to decode what the employer is asking me, bad interviews where I seem to just sit there and smile and nod because I don’t understand a thing the employer is asking me … and this one, which was a combination of all three.

I wanted to work at Cold Stone because I like people, and I told them that when they asked me the very clichΓ©, “Why do you want to work for Cold Stone Creamery?” The next question was, “Do you think you’re qualified to work here?”

Now, this was after the two men explained to me what I would be doing at the store. As they explained it to me (and they could have just said “serving ice cream,” but that would be too easy), I have to admit I wasn’t listening. I first scanned over the two of them. The one on the left was short with no neck, blond hair, muscles, and a propensity for sweating. He sweat through the entire interview.

On the right we had a short, thin, dark haired man who spoke really fast but always seemed to be making a concerted effort to slow himself down. Instantly I was amused, and I couldn’t stop trying to think of nicknames as they talked.

I always go for really obvious nicknames first, so the one on the left was Sweaty MuscleFace McGinty, and the one on the right was Brownie Talks-a-lot. I remember laughing out loud as they explained the variety of flavors offered at Cold Stone Creamery. They exchanged a look between them and I knew it from years of public school: “What the hell does she think she’s laughing at?”

So when Sweaty MuscleFace McGinty asked me if I thought I was qualified to serve ice cream to his precious snowflake customers, I replied, “Of course. I get my dad ice cream all the time. He says, ‘Kristina, go get me some ice cream!’ And sometimes he wants sprinkles and hot fudge and junk, and I put that on there when he wants it. I’m basically his ice cream slave. … And if you hire me, I can be your ice cream slave, too!”

Hire me, losers.

I looked over to my sister for approval. She was just shaking her head. I smiled, because I knew from what everyone says that you want to stand out in an interview. Swearing seemed like the best way to do that. I had to figure out how to casually slip in a “damn” or “hell.” They’d better remember me, or I’d slash their damn tires on their hellish little pickup truck. Ugh. Men, am I right?

The next question: “Do you have your driver’s license?”

My response: “Not yet, but see that girl over there? The one who kind of looks like me but older and wiser, because she is older than me and has way more life experience? That’s my sister, and she’s my chauffeur. She drives me anywhere I need to go. So getting to work won’t be a damn problem.” (See how I slipped in that expletive? Hold your applause, please.)

Throughout the entire interview, I kept sneaking in swear words, then glancing over to my sister and giving her the thumbs up like I was champion of the world. She looked mortified, but I knew that meant I was being memorable like everyone suggested. If I thought flashing them would cement me in their memories even more, I would have done it. I wanted to serve ice cream for them, and dammit, I would do whatever it took.

At the end of the interview, I was told I would get a call if I got the job, and, lo and behold, I did. Who would have thought that the awkward, swearing girl in that interview would blossom into the lovely flower you see before you today?

Tomorrow, tips on interviewing. Seriously. I’m going to give you my top five interview tips. I went on a lot of interviews this past winter, and now that I had a great one with great people and I landed a great job, I want to pass along my knowledge to you.

Sneak peek: If there was a number six, it would be: “Always make sure you say something memorable. For example, in my successful interview, I told the interviewer that I look like Mick Jagger when I try to walk down a flight of stairs in heels. Now you give it a try!”

 

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9 responses to “Interviewing, or How I Told a Prospective Employer I’m a Slave.

  1. you’re hilarious πŸ™‚

  2. funny stuff!

  3. That was very entertaining. πŸ™‚ “That’s my sister and she’s my chauffeur.” I believe that was said. πŸ™‚

  4. It took me thirteen interviews until I got the job I currently have. Seems to me that the best way is to tell-it-like-it-is. I always seemed to get better feedback when I disagreed with them, or questioned the validity of their questions.
    But never again. I hate interviews….

  5. Pingback: Five tips sure to get you hired. | Ethel.

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