Speed Interviewing
or 5 Weeks and 6 Calls to Schedule a 15-minute Conversation
This one, my friends, goes a long way in explaining why the American economy is in its current state of disarray.
At some point during the Spring of 2010 (around the same time that time itself began to get fuzzy and indistinct—which I would guesstimate was the 15th month of unemployment), I responded to a posting on a well-known law firm job bank. In response to my application (week 1/call 0), an HR drone at the hiring firm called (week 2/call 1) to schedule a telephone interview for the following week, so we did.
On the interview day (week 3/call 2), the HR drone and I had a pleasant conversation, the details of which were sufficiently bland and repetitious to have been completely obliterated by the format and content of our subsequent conversations. That first conversation ended with the drone explaining that she would pass my resume along to the CMO. If the CMO expressed an interest in talking to me, the HR drone would call to schedule the telephone interview
Sure enough, the following week the HR drone called (week 4/call 3) and we scheduled an interview for the following Tuesday. The drone explained that a series of 15-minute interviews would be scheduled back-to-back between 10 and 11am, therefore it was critical that I call the CMO at the number provided at precisely the agreed-upon time. Flabbergasted, yet intrigued, I agreed and we scheduled the interview for 10:15 am.
At 9:30 am on the day of the scheduled interview, the HR drone called again (week 5/call 4) to explain that the CMO was terribly backlogged and that the call must be rescheduled.
Me: Sure. No problem.
HR Drone: Great. Could we reschedule the interview for 10:20 am?
Me: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?
HR Drone: Are you still available at 10:20?
Me: 10:20. Just so there’s no misunderstanding, you are asking that we reschedule the interview from 10:15 to 10:20. Today? Is that right?
HR Drone: Yes. We’re terribly sorry for the inconvenience.
Me: Not a problem. Then 10:20 it is.
HR Drone: Thank you so much for being so flexible. We really appreciate this. I’ll just let the CMO know that you’re still available and call you right back.
A few minutes later, the HR Drone called (week 5/call 5) to confirm that we were all set to talk at 10:20 am. She thanked me profusely for being so accommodating.
At a few seconds past 10:19 by my oven clock, I began slowly, carefully punching in the phone number (week 5/call 6), trying to time the dialing so that her line would ring at precisely 10:20, as if that were even possible. I wondered about the consequences of misdialing or the call not going through or, heaven forbid, getting disconnected. I did not want to be the one responsible for causing someone’s nervous breakdown when a ridiculously overscheduled day devolved into total chaos. I did not want to be the one forever vilified as the job candidate who drove the CMO over the edge and out the window by calling in at 10:20:17.
The CMO answered her phone with a curt: “Yes?”
I introduced myself, explained who I was and she immediately launched into an exasperated vent about being behind schedule because “they” didn’t allow her enough time between each interview and how 15 minutes isn’t really enough time for an interview and blah blah blah and all I’m thinking is: Hey! We’re wasting time here.
Her vent used up about one-third of our 15-minute time slot before she asked me to briefly recap my skills and experience, my roles and responsibilities at my last three employers, what I liked best and least about those jobs and a description of my career objectives going forward, in other words, condense 25 years of business experience and my personal plans for the future into 10-minute soliloquy, all the while trying to hit all the right notes for this particular job description. Piece of cake. I believe this is what is known as “the elevator speech.”
I did my best and believe I was reasonably successful when I stopped to take a breath. After a few seconds of silence, she began to “sell” the job to me — usually a good sign – by telling me what a great place this firm is to work, etc. etc.
CMO: And we’re located in a lovely section of Miami…
Me: Uh, excuse me. Did you say Miami? As in Florida?
CMO: Yes. A beautiful neighborhood that…
Me: I live in New York.
CMO: Yes. I know. Aren’t you willing to relocate?
Me: No.
CMO: Then why did you apply?
Me: The job description did not indicate the position is located in Miami.
CMO: Yes it does.
Me: No. It doesn’t. I have it right here in front of me and there’s no location listed. Since you reached out to me, I naturally assumed the position was in your NY office.
CMO: No no no. We’re not hiring for the NY office. Are you sure it doesn’t say Miami anywhere?
Me: Positive.
CMO: Oh dear, I guess I should tell them to fix that.
Me: Yes. You should.
CMO: So… you’re not willing to relocate?
Me: No.
CMO: OK. Well then, bye.
Me: Bye.
Lessons learned:
(1) In Florida, there is a law firm that actually believes it is a good business practice to spend 30 minutes and who knows how much in long distance charges to reschedule an appointment by 5 minutes when, in truth, the CMO could have just kept me on hold and I wouldn’t even have noticed.
(2) In Florida, there is law firm with marketing and HR departments so stupendously over-scheduled that they had no time to ponder the likelihood of a job candidate’s willingness to undertake a 2,500-mile (R/T) daily commute.
