Imagine being the interviewee in the following scenario, which may or may not have happened (it happened):
You are sitting in the University Career Services Interview Center. You get there 30 minutes early to gather your thoughts, rein in your nerves, make sure your hair doesn’t look like you just spent the last six hours in a ferocious wind-tunnel (aka Tech Drive), etc.
You have prepared an inordinate amount for this interview because you’ve heard that this particular investment bank does not necessarily feel the need to offer even a single Northwestern student a spot. Thus, you really want to impress the hell out of whoever your interviewer is.
Ten minutes into gathering your thoughts, your interviewer walks out. As expected in the banking world, he’s a total bro. You introduce yourselves, schmooze a little bit about something pithy and worthless while walking to your interview room, which you know is going to be only a few degrees colder than the Sun’s core.
You wait for your interviewer (let’s say his name is Wentworth Prestonfield), to sit down before you do, thus eliciting professional courtesy, but actually you just feel awkward standing complacently. Whatever. You shake it off and sit down, put your hands on your thighs, and wait for the chit-chat to subside and the technical / behavioral questions to commence.
WP has been analyzing your résumé for what seems like an excessive amount of time. However, finally he sets his gaze on something – “Sooo, you’re from Minnesota?” You reply to his gaze with a minimal shifty gaze of your own, “Yes, I am.”
WP prods further, “What did you like about it?”
You give your one-minute spiel about how awesome the Minnesota Timberwolves are. (This part didn’t actually happen, but I need to keep this fresh.)
“How long have you lived there for?”
“Since 2nd grade.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have known that from looking at your résumé.”
You sit there dumbfounded at the possibility that WP is perturbed at your lack of elementary school résumé inclusion, but as you must, you keep a slight smirk and maintain your demeanor. The interview continues.
“Soo, you did this,” as WP highlights a seemingly arbitrary bullet point on your résumé. You answer with what you think is an enlightened response, given the lack of direction inherent in WP’s question. WP nods. “Soo, you did this,” as he picks another task you’ve accomplished. You answer in the previous manner. This exchange occurs one more time.
By this time, 20 minutes have passed and WP attempts to escort you out. You calmly mention that he grabbed you 20 minutes early, so technically you have 30 more minutes. You bite your lip with confusion as WP sits back down.
It is at this point you realize and accept that things are becoming absolutely ridiculous. Twenty minutes have passed. WP has not asked you a question not related to Minnesota. There will be no technicals. “What the hell is going on?” you ask yourself. With hilarity, you watch WP proceed to extend his legs to a nearby chair and begin fiddling with the iPad he just pulled out of his briefcase. After a few moments, he puts the iPad away and talks while staring aimlessly out the window with his hands behind his head.
You do your best to just let this happen, but understandably you’re anxious and you begin to talk more about yourself. Ultimately, you submit to the fact that you aren’t even going to have the opportunity to ask questions and you give the paradoxical smile-while-sulking handshake as you exit the sweltering bloodbath that became your interview room.
One hour later, your interviewer calls you and mentions how he enjoyed talking about Minnesota, but unfortunately, he cannot offer you a final-round interview. You hang up the phone, stare out your window and look up. In another paradoxical moment, you realize how much of a baller WP truly is, and you shake it off.
Steve Hofmann is a Weinberg junior. He can be reached at [email protected].
Illustration by Sophie Jenkins.
