Bizarre Interviews: Part 1

I'm not interested in your unsolicited advice.

Over the past 12 months, I have had several interviews for jobs. Some of these were the most utterly bizarre interviews I have ever heard of, much less been a part of. Experiences that left me wondering, “Did that f*cked up shit really just happen?”

An important side note, because I have years of experience dealing with the f*cked up shit of a full-fledged narcissist gaslighter, I say that if you find yourself questioning your senses and your sanity, then you are dealing with someone that is literally insane.

One of the most shocking interviews was with the development office of a nearby independent school. I’ve got years of experience attending, teaching in, and being a parent in private schools. I’ve also been successful at nonprofit fundraising, so I thought this job would be a great fit, but y’all, I got snakebit!

So here’s how it began. I saw the job posting after randomly going to the school’s website and seeing the posting. I got that little flutter of excitement and then proceeded to apply. You know the drill, this applying process is not a quick or easy. It takes some time to tweak the resume and write a cover letter specific to the position. This followed by filling out the online form which NEVER auto-populates properly so you have to fill it all in from scratch. Never mind that you are sending your resume and your LinkedIn profile which has all the exact same information, sigh, this is the nature of the beast.

I hit “SEND” on Wednesday afternoon.

My phone rang just after 5pm the next day.

Me: Hello?

SP: Hi, I’m Snakey Psycho from ‘You-Don’t-Really-Want-to-Work-Here’ School. I was forwarded your application, and I’m calling just to casually touch base and find out about your interest in the position we’re hiring for.

Me: Oh, hello! It’s great to hear from you. Sorry I’m a little out of breath, I’ve been out with the dog. I’ll head inside where I can hear you better.

SP: Ok that sounds like a good idea. I’m wondering where you heard about this position?

{I told her about going to the website, yada yada yada.}

SP: Interesting. So what do you know about this position and the school?

Me: Gosh, I’m not really prepared for an interview out of the blue and this time of day, but I’m very interested in the job. Could we maybe schedule a time to talk so that I am able to have a more focused conversation?

SP: Oh I just have a few questions to gauge interest.

Me: Um, OK. {scribbles a note to husband who is still on a conference call for work—hands off dog and note and heads into the guest room}

At this point, Ms. Psycho began pounding hardcore interview questions. I mean, serious sit-down formal interview kinds of questions. And I realized in less than 2 minutes that she had absolutely no interest in hiring me. I felt no “warm-fuzzies” from the start, and the energy that was kind-of there was gone. I considered pulling the plug on the conversation with some manufactured dinnertime emergency and then I thought, “Well, this is good interview practice so I’ll just play along and get some experience answering tough questions and thinking on my feet.”

After a while, she asked the cringeworthy question:

AYFKM? Who asks this question on a preliminary interview? And additionally, the hiring person knows damn well what is budgeted for the job. Is she testing the waters to see if there’s a chance someone might take the job for less? Not posting a salary range feels gross to job seekers because it can feel like a trap or a potential waste of time if both parties are out of line from the get-go. But in this particular instance, her asking this question to someone she was clearly not going to hire felt manipulative and self-serving…because, why bother?

Knowing at this point that I would NEVER work for this person, I gave a dismissive answer expecting the call to just end. “I’m simply not comfortable discussing salary on the initial interview.”

Little did I know that I just ignited this person’s Flame of Self-Righteousness located on her pillar of No-Self-Awareness. I poked the snake.

SP: Well you must have a salary range in mind.

Me: I’d love to have this discussion further along in the hiring process.

SP: You have no idea what you would like to earn?

Me: That’s not what I said, I still need to learn more about the job and expectations as a whole.

{You can read this next reply in your mind in your snarkiest tone of voice and you still won’t match Ms. Psycho’s slow speaking over-enunciation.}

SP: So, what I’m trying to get at is the number, you have to have one, the floor beneath which you wouldn’t even consider a job like this.

{Remember how I said that I have lots of experience with narcissistic behavior? A narcissist flies off the handle at a person who scoffs at their crazy making. My cool, aloof response seemed to have sent her stratospheric. Knowing that any number was irrelevant, I said the first number that came to mind.}

Me: OK, then how about $50K?

I thought that my obviously offhand reply would have been the end of it, but this ‘wanna-be-C-suite’ ball of misguided wrath wasn’t done hearing herself speak.

“I’m gonna give you some unsolicited advice. You need to know your worth.”

My brain narrative uttered, “What the F*ck?” but my incredulous jaw was on the floor.

She proceeded as if onstage at her own TED talk—analyzing how my entire conversation with her showed that I don’t know my worth and how I’m going to always be unsuccessful if I can’t with confidence tell people exactly how valuable I am. (Y’all recognizing the projection here or is it just me?)

She continued, saying that my comment, “I’m not comfortable…” was a red flag that I would be unsuccessful on her team. According to her clearly superior knowledge of raising money, building relationships, and adulting in general, you cannot work in fundraising if you are not comfortable discussing your personal finances with a total stranger. (Wait, what?)

Finally, she went all the way to crazy town describing how awesome her team is and how everyone loves to work in the environment she’s created. She spent some time describing her work hard/play hard team that has really “blossomed” since she came on board the year previous. (Riiiiiiiiiight, I’m so sure they all just love her.)

There was more, I just can’t really remember specifics because it was…so…utterly…crazy. When she finally stopped to take a breath, I enlisted the most Scarlett O’Hara voice I could muster and said, “Snakey, thank you sooooooo much for taking the time and energy to share your advice with me. It’s been incredibly enlightening. When can I expect to hear back from you about next steps with this job?”

Yes, a little bile did rise up in the back of my throat.

Of course there was going to be no job, but I wasn’t about to let her off the hook after that bonkers litany of holier-than-thou nonsense. Why didn’t I just hang up? The whole thing took me by such surprise that there was a part of me that wanted to see where the crazy train was going to take us. The “Thanks, but No-Thanks!” email was in my inbox before noon the following day: it was one sentence long and came from the school’s HR automated system. Classy…not.

When I lived on a little island, I expected to have repeated run-ins with people. It was just part of being in a small community. However, now that I’m living in greater Atlanta, silly me expected to never cross paths with this woman again.

NEVER say never.

Fast forward a couple of months. I applied to a local university’s philanthropic organization. They were looking for a person with skills that matched very closely with mine. After an hours-long online application and two awesome conversations with the HR manager, I was told I’d be interviewed with the team once they had brought on the new assistant director. When the HR manager forwarded me the announcement, you guessed it—they had hired Snakey Psycho. (Apparently the deep and great love from her team at the independent school wasn’t big enough to keep her there. Reckon they were happy to see her leave?) The HR guy said that I should expect to hear from them within the week. Surprise! I never heard from them again.

WTF, Universe. I mean, really? Was all of this necessary?

Job hunting isn’t for the faint of heart.