I had a job interview today. I’m not entirely sure that I’ve ever uttered that particular phrase before, in text or otherwise, which should tell you something about how many such experiences I’ve had. By my reckoning, this was the third real one, which is to say the third interview involving questions which in no way pertained to my ability to use a cash register or lift heavy objects. (I can do both of those things, by the way, although attempting them simultaneously is the sort of multitasking which tends to lead to consumer tragedies.) It’s also the first I’ve had in at least five years. I did my best to feel undaunted, but a thorough daunting still ensued; when the Lord of Daunt pays a call, after all, you’d best accept his anxious coin.

I’d spent a couple of hours preparing for the experience, formulating answers to hypothetical questions which struck a careful balance between earnest honesty and shameless self-promotion. It didn’t feel like a sure thing, but I knew that my resume was strong, my work experience reasonably impressive. I’ve more-or-less emerged on the other side of Impostor Syndrome, although it still pops up from time to time, like an insidious banner ad whose 72-pt text reads, “YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY VERY GOOD AT ANYTHING.” Time and practice have improved my technical skills immensely, and I know that I’ll be a good addition to whichever company I choose (and which chooses me, I suppose. Otherwise, I guess I’ll just be that girl who sits on the lawn and stares).

Then I got there, and after asking me about my education and explaining the company’s general structure, my interviewer started in on the real questions. He is a senior software engineer in the company’s core OS division; I hadn’t known that beforehand, so I was completely unprepared for the sort of queries he made. You know that dream where you have to write an exam, but you don’t know any of the material because you’d never gone to the class? I got to blunder my way through one of those, except that I was a) awake and b) in the middle of asking a huge and amazing company to employ me. It was mortifying, although the kind man was quick to reassure me that none of the candidates he’d interviewed for the position had been able to provide solid answers to the questions which stumped me. (Since this is a public blog, I’ve mentioned neither the name of the company nor the specific questions; that seems like the path of corporate goodwill, or at least the path of plausible deniability and reduced shame.) Suffice to say that I think I presented myself well, but I suspect I’ll be passed over for the job because my performance wasn’t particularly impressive. Well, unless everyone else was wretched, but given the quality of CS students who come out of UoT and Waterloo, that’s unlikely.

And it’s too bad, because I really wanted this one. I’d hoped to have some practice-run interviews with less interesting companies before coming up against something so important, but no such luck. I’m reaching the stage where I’m totally burned out on school and am desperate to reconnect with the feelings of self-sufficiency and personal progress I pawned in order to pay my tuition. I don’t really know where I’ll be going after this degree – although I am dragging Bryan there with me, even if I need to employ feminine wiles and horse tranquilizer by the boatload – but it would be nice to get to try on one of the bigger options to see how it fits.

I think Cupertino and I could get along, if someone there gives me a shot… preferably one which contains less than 5% horse tranquilizer.

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