The Best Worst Interview Advice Ever

During the dot-com meltdown of 2001, my employer laid off 75% of my co-workers. I clung to my job for the time-being, but the future of our internet music venture looked bleak. With $100,000 in student loans looming over my head, unemployment scared me to death. 

So I was stoked when I scored an interview with the founding duo at a new Beverly Hills talent and branding agency backed by well-funded studios. The CEO was a Hollywood wunderkind, and his #2 was a female rocket scientist who happened to be a former fashion-model.

Not only did I need this job, I wanted badly to play up to their level.

When the day came, the interview gods were smiling on me, and the conversation went brilliantly. I’m not kidding; it was a thoroughly in-depth yet relaxed discussion of macro-vision and micro-values. We all saw the fields of connected entertainment and content distribution evolving in the same direction. As importantly, my comments were crisp, insightful and tinged with just the right amount of charming, self-effacing humor.

For over an hour, the two genetic miracles on the other side of the table listened intently, locked with me, eye-to-eye. When our chat ended, we said our goodbyes, and they assured me we would talk again soon.

“Damn right we will,” I thought, relief and more than a little confidence oozing from every pore as I waved casually to the receptionist and walked toward the elevator lobby.

I felt good. I felt proud. And, when I reached my hand up to scratch my nose, I felt something…some non-trivial thing protruding well out of my right nostril.

“No,” I said to the empty vestibule. “No. Lord, please, no…NO, NO, NO, NO!!!”

Yes. This foreign body was, without question, an un-missable mass of congealed mucus, dust and pet dander, aka a big, hairy booger.

Yes. This foreign body was, without question, an un-missable mass of congealed mucus, dust and pet dander, aka a big, hairy booger.

My heart sank. My lunch rose.

I pulled on the monster and felt it tug on the back of my skull. The size of a quarter and the shape of a small, earnest bird, it – for who knows how long – had been perched just over my stupid mouth … directly in the sight lines of those I so desperately wished to impress.

I examined the beast. It was a dense, beautifully asymmetrical, USDA-certified-organic booger of heft and gravitas: a state-fair-blue-ribbon, steroid-fueled Boogersaurus. In a time before social media, it deserved its own Instagram account.

Was it juicy? Like a summer peach.

Oddly – in that moment of shame – I found myself proud to have sired this Platonic ideal of Boogerness. Had I been on the golf course, I would have shown it to my buddies and boasted, “Hey fellas, look what just came out of my face!”

When it comes to nose dirt, however, context matters. An A+ on the links is an F- in an interview. While my word hole had been delivering pithy insights about the future of digital, this booger was screaming “PAUL OLLINGER IS A FILTHY ANIMAL!!! Do not hire him!!”

Which is why they had been staring me dead in the eye! Had they dared to gaze down, they would have busted out laughing. All these years later, I still admire the discipline required to maintain their composure until I made it out the door.

Yet, in that moment I was processing my horror, I realized that they were just a feet away, rolling on the floor howling, “It kept growing!!!” and “He thinks he got the job!! Ba-ha-haaaa!!!”

A stronger person would have returned to the office, copped a “my bad,” perhaps saving both face and the job. Not me. I tucked my tail and got the hell out of there, swimming hard to escape the sucking vortex of my sinking career.

As you may have guessed, I never heard back from the agency. But I am happy to report that a short time after this interview, Yahoo! plucked our company from the wreckage of the busted internet bubble, giving the remaining employees a paycheck and an excellent new career opportunity.

My point to you today is that you’re going to blow a job interview or two. Whether you say the wrong thing, too much of the right thing or you have your innards hanging out of your face, stuff happens. Try not take it too hard and do better next time.

But next time, do yourself a favor and prep better, remembering that your prep doesn’t end until you check a mirror, shine an iPhone camera up your nose or do whatever it takes to ensure you don’t have Shrek hanging out of your beak.

That way you might actually get the job, and you won't have to flick a giant, sticky booger onto the pristine brushed-bronze door of a Beverly Hills elevator.

I hope it’s still there.

Paul Ollinger is a nationally-touring stand-up comedian and author of You Should Totally Get an MBA: A Comedian’s Guide to Top U.S. Business Schools. Follow him on Twitter at @Paul_Ollinger