Interview Bloopers

First I would like to go on a rant. Bear with me (Bare?). I hate blog snobs. Getting into this whole blog thing I thought wouldn't it be nice to join the online community where everyone gets along. I was wrong, blogging is as cut throat as everything else and you had better have brass buns. You have the news snobs, the kind that only read news and then the offshoot from that the neighborhood snobs that only read news about their region. These are the most frustrating bloggers I have encountered. Noone cares about the 100 different blog sites on DC. It doesn't matter read the effing news, look out your window, or just go to DCist.com.

Now for the actual story.

Everyone has a story about an interview from hell. An interview is merely a judgment of your personality and knowledge. If it goes well then it really isn't saying much except that you are a normal person. If it goes badly then you are like "what's wrong with me am I some kind of freak?!" Well being the person I am, people either love me or hate me, and of course I've had my share of bad interviews.

Military personel are all the same. As an aerospace engineer I interview mainly with people in the military or that work for government agencies. They all fit the same mold, men or women mid thirties with a pole shoved up their ass and a crew cut. I tend to bring humor into the interview and more than likely it ends up being wasted on some army ego freak.
At the University of Maryland the career center gives an annual career fair where employers come and show off their companies. The benefits to this are meeting potential employers, spending $10 on resumes, and getting tons of free stuff. During my senior year like most students I began going to the career fair because I was freaking out about what was my next life step. On my way back to class in my suit looking baller I saw an employer in the engineering building with an interview sign-up. I put my old hancock down and started chatting with one of the recruiters of ASU (fake name in case they read blogs). This Houston based space company seemed perfect and me and the recruiter got along like peas and carrots.
After our little conversation I thought this job is mine, and really didn't do any preparation. Why should I? Bob and I were old friends and he would be soon taking me out for beers at Cstone. I guess I thought wrong.
Its never good when either party involved is late to the interview. Being the stud I am I got there 5 minutes early and began to wait for 10 minutes for Bob to get there. Bob was out of breath, a big man, and proceeded to fly through the interview. Midway through in his big sweaty interrogation he adjusted himself. After 5 minutes of boring/awkward conversation I was delighted to see him start to become animated. I followed his hand movement down to his groin and watched as he gently lifted his balls through his pants and did the classic sac pull (guys you know what I am talking about). Unfortunately for me I watched the whole thing, I mean it was an accident, totally non gay, it merely grabbed my attention. When I tore my eyes away in disgust to focus on Bob's face, it was too late. I had been caught. Bob was looking straight into my eyes with the "I know what you were looking at" expression on his face. He didn't say anything and there was probably a good five second pause. From that point on the whole interview was awkward. Bob didn't laugh at my jokes or think I was an all american country boy anymore, he thought I was a gay pervert that wanted his sweaty d. Oh well, Bob probably had a heart attack.

My most recent interview was with the Army. It didn't go well either.

It was about 4 o'clock as I got into my car to race home to put on a suit and get my resume. I had an hour to get to the career center for my interview. "Plenty of time" I thought. By the time I got to my car with my suit and resume it was 4:40 with twenty minutes to get to school (1 mile away) park and get to the top floor of Hornbake Library.
Driving onto campus in the afternoon is time suicide. The traffic is horrible. It seems like everyone is going to the same place. I tried to park my car in three different lots, each one full, no meters available. I remember finding a spot a good five minute walk from the building. At this point it was 4:55. I ran to the building sweatless and thought to myself, "wow no sweat way to go stud." I got upstairs and into the room as the minute hand was gliding past 12:00. The asian man behind the table said something like "whoa, did you run here." Laughing it off we began our interview.
I knew thirty seconds in that something was wrong. I was hot. My body was sweating I could feel the sweat drip down my nose and seep into the fibers of my shirt. Excusing myself I asked if I could take off my jacket. It seemed that every minute I was wiping my brow. My sleeves look like I had reached into a bucket full of water. I rolled down my sleeves and undid my tie. At this point in the interview I looked like I had just come from work and was getting a drink. Totally unprofessional. The asian dude saw it too I could tell. This guy probably thought I had some kind of addiction to heroin or something. Moral: Don't ever run with a full suit.