In a past life I worked in IT. One day I was invited to an interview for a growing sportswear manufacturer. Their products were high quality, their location was ideal, the hours were ideal, and the job sounded perfect for my skill set, with opportunities to grow.
I submitted my application and got a call back. Excited, I dressed up and headed on down to their brand-new upscale digs. I went to the front desk and asked for Brian. (I don’t actually remember his name. It was a long time ago. But let’s assume Brian is a fake name.)
The person at the front desk asked me why I wanted to see Brian and I said I had an interview. They said, “Great, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Sunshine poured through huge glass windows into a spacious entry with rough-hewn wood benches, floors, and supporting beams. Rustic! Outdoorsy!! On-brand and pricey!!! I took a seat and waited. And waited.
Eventually, to calm my nerves, I walked over to the museum-quality display cases exhibiting their production process from design to finished product.
A few minutes later, someone bounced up beside me and said, “Yup, that’s our new line! Beautiful, no?”
He stuck out his hand and continued, “Welcome, I’m Brian. Let’s go for a tour of the facility.”
After detailing the products in the display cases, he led me around the corner and into an open office. No cubicles, just high ceilings, shiny monitors, long flat desks and cushy seating huddles strategically dispersed throughout the open floor for impromptu meetings. We walked across the desk area and into the kitchen, then the game room. Brian described all the amenities and the team spirit the company encouraged. Next we entered the warehouse portion of the facility. Brian pointed out the shelves and boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes of product about to fly out the door, exclaiming they simply couldn’t keep up with the demand.
By this time we were 15–20 minutes in. I found it curious there hadn’t been any questions for me. I wondered if they were trying to set me at ease or slyly testing my personality to determine if I might fit their sleek culture.
We wound our way back to the open office area. Along the west wall were a row of private offices. Brian led me to his and invited me to take a seat. I mentally prepared myself to begin answering questions about my skills, experience, career goals, etc. Instead, Brian shared with me the company’s growth trajectory, how proud and happy he was to work for such a nifty place, and how much fun it was despite the heavy time demands. I was confused but listened attentively, cocking my head and making a sound now and again to signal agreement, astonishment, whatever emotion I hoped was appropriate. Eventually Brian began to detail the current IT projects.
Great, I thought. Finally, the interview will begin. Next Brian waxed philosophical on the general challenges of quickly building IT infrastructures robust enough to meet the company’s breakneck growth trajectories.
I glanced at my watch. (Yes, this interview was so long ago there were no smart phones. If people wanted to quickly tell what exact time it was, they wore a watch on their wrist. Me, I mostly tell time by the sun. However, for interfacing with the business world, watches and precision it is. Or was.)
Alarmed, I saw we were nearly 30 minutes in and I had been asked zero questions. For a brief second I thought to myself, Could it possibly be that they’re just going to offer me the job on the basis of my resume and cover letter?
I screwed up my courage, looked for a pause in his monologue, and with what I hoped was demure expression and tone said, “Thank you for the tour. It was wonderful to learn about the company’s products and growth and see the space I might work in. I found it especially interesting to hear about the IT infrastructure challenges presented by the company’s growth trajectory. I have significant experience in building networks and enjoy it. So, I want to make sure you have a chance to ask me any questions you might have for me regarding my ability to do the work.”
Without a pause Brian opened his mouth and replied, “Oh we’ve already decided who to hire. We did so awhile ago. But, because we have contracts with the federal government, we’re required to interview a certain number of………” As it dawned on him what he was saying, his voice dwindled — then, he finished cheerily with, “…a certain number of…um…different…um…kinds of people.”
Green and inexperienced though I was, it was nonetheless clear to me what was going on. He had invited me to an interview for the sole purpose of checking a box for their reporting to the EEOC. (See https://www.dol.gov/general/topic/hiring/affirmativeact)
At the time I was too timid to say anything other than a meek, “I see, thank you for your time.”
Now, no way!!! I’d say, “Thank you for being so transparent. Please expect a call from BOLI/EEOC, as I will be reporting you.”
What’s your experience with Faux interviews?
How many of you have been invited to interviews that weren’t really interviews? And how often? I have this feeling it happens more often than one might think.
I’ll be sharing more of my stories soon. Meanwhile, I’d love to hear yours.
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