Showcasing this remarkable desk, the entire office floor was covered in thick, beige carpet, but there was little furniture. Aside from the reception desk and the sofa she was sitting on, there were only two armchairs, with a small coffee table between them, and a cast-iron newspaper holder close to the elevator. Strange.
The elevator was still there, doors open. She looked closely at the elevator and noticed that no controls were visible next to the elevator doors. She turned her eyes to the receptionist. As if reading her mind, the receptionist turned her chair around and touched a button on a metallic panel, marked "Access" bolted to the wall behind her. The elevator doors closed without a sound.
"Good morning, Miss Hoffmann." A deep, powerful voice startled Alex. She stood up, ready to extend her arm for the usual handshake. In the black eyes of the handsome man standing in front of her, there was no willingness to shake hands.
She replied, cautiously, "Good morning. How are you?"
"Please, follow me." The man did not wait for her reply; he turned and walked around the glass brick wall into a dark corridor.
I was right, Alex thought. As the man entered the corridor, a light came on by itself. Neat. He stopped in front of an office, knocked once, and opened the door. He stepped aside, indicating that Alex should enter. Without any introduction, he quietly closed the door and walked down the hall.
"Welcome to The Agency, Miss Hoffmann." The man behind the desk was smiling widely and seemed friendly and open. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Isaac, and I'm in charge of The Agency. Please, sit down."
She took her seat and looked around. It was an average office, with common office furniture — a desk, some chairs, two filing cabinets — and a window covered by Venetian blinds, partially blocking the sun. Nothing special about it.
She answered politely, smiling back, "Nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me." She put down her briefcase next to the chair. Ready as I'll ever be, she thought, waiting for the interview to begin.
"So, please let me begin by asking, what kind of job are you looking for?"
Something to pay the bills and have some fun while at it, if possible, she thought. Instead she answered by the book, her training and experience in interviewing taking over.
"My ideal job is one that incorporates both my education and practical work skills to be the best I can be. Combining my education with a working knowledge of customer operations, my entrepreneurial abilities, computer skills, and administrative skills, I want to utilize my analytical expertise to help people meet their goals. This is exactly why I am convinced that I would be a valuable member of your team."
She had no idea what job she had applied for. She had no information allowing her to be more precise, and this was considered the best possible vague answer to this tricky question. This is going to be tough, she braced herself.
Mr. Isaac was watching her closely, slowly nodding as she spoke. He asked the second question. "How would you describe yourself in terms of your ability to work as a member of a team?"
Standard interview questions, what a disappointment; they promised me none of this dance. Alex almost sighed.
"I have had many opportunities in both academics and work experience to develop my skills as a team player. My experience as a market research team leader also helped me learn the role of team member. I viewed my position as that of group leader and individual contributor at the same time. I ensured that everyone in my group had an equal opportunity to contribute, maintained excellent communication among group members, and coordinated their energies toward reaching our team's goal."
Mr. Isaac looked down at the file in front of him and scribbled something on the print of her résumé. She continued to look directly at him, while smiling and waiting for the next question.
"Are you currently employed?"
"Yes," she lied, without any hesitation, knowing she had a better chance of getting a job if no one knew she was currently unemployed.
"Why would you like to leave your current employer? It is a nice company, from what I hear." Mr. Isaac leaned forward, curious to hear her answer. It came without delay or hesitation.
"I feel I am not challenged enough in my current position. I would like to move toward a more challenging, more rewarding position, which will allow me to fully utilize my skills and my abilities, and also offer me opportunity for self-improvement and professional growth."
"What a load of crap!" Mr. Isaac stood up abruptly, startling her.
She froze. Oh, my God!
Mr. Isaac continued, pacing angrily through his office.
"I promised you a straightforward recruiting process, if you were honest with your answers. Yesterday you were willing to discuss. Today you are giving me nothing but a nicely wrapped, well-rehearsed pile of bullshit. What happened?"
She started to speak, but her voice was gone. She made an effort, cleared her throat, took in a deep breath, and gave it her best shot.
"I am sorry, sir, but the habit of giving these standard answers took over. You did ask me some fairly standard HR questions. You are right, though, I am sorry for wasting your time with all this." She managed a faint smile.
"Are you willing to answer some questions without lying, leaving stuff out, or sugarcoating anything?"
"Yes, sir." She could feel sweat at the roots of her hair.
"Be careful, one more time with this kind of crap and we stop right there, understood?"
"Yes, sir." Do I really want to work for this guy?
"OK, again, what kind of job are you looking for?"
She realized she had been holding her breath. Here's your truth, mister. Let's see if you can handle it. She exhaled the air in her lungs and answered, looking straight into his eyes.
"I'm looking for a job that will comfortably pay my bills without boring me to death, have me living in fear, and slowly killing my spirit. I want to have some fun doing that job; I want some flexibility; and I want to work with smart, open-minded people who can teach me a thing or two." She stopped and held her breath again, waiting for his reaction.
"Was it painful?" he asked. His eyes were smiling, but his face was still serious.
Surprise. "Excuse me?"
"To tell the truth for a change." He sat up and walked around the desk toward her.
"No, it was actually quite relieving to hear myself say it." She smiled shyly, aware she was blushing. "I haven't done that in a while." She did not dare look him in the eyes.
He was now standing in front of her. She stood up abruptly, ready to run. He reached out his hand and gave her a firm handshake.
"Then it's really a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hoffmann. Let's continue. Please sit down. Are you currently employed?"
"No," she sighed.
"What happened?"
"My boss used to be quite a nice guy. However, one day he went berserk. He started arguing with me without reason. He said I had the wrong attitude, and that a customer had complained that I was swearing while fixing her network."
"Were you?"
"Well, the strangest thing is that I was never with that customer. I was scheduled to go, but traded accounts with a colleague, because that specific customer was close to his home. I figured the boss just wanted me out, and I left. That was no life for me; I can't handle that kind of attitude. There was no fixing the situation; the more I tried to clarify the issue, the more aggravated he would get. His reaction came as a complete surprise. Until then, he had shown only appreciation toward my performance."
"Did he fire you?"