Chronicles of the Terrible Interviews: Brain Teasers and Karaoke

From our very first interviews during college for internships, we are conditioned to do everything in our power to impress and wow the company who has graciously decided to interview us. While this is absolutely critical, I have always felt that the company also needs to wow you. A skilled and seasoned candidate is interviewing the company just as a much as the company is interviewing the candidate. Sadly, this concept is lost on many companies, especially during a time when unemployment is high and people are desperate for jobs. I have felt the pain of unemployment myself, so I understand first hand candidates bypassing "the right fit" for a paycheck. However, my goal in this series is to reinforce with employers the critical importance of how YOU show up to an interview. If your organization wants to attract the best and the brightest talent, you need to show a candidate that you are a company that deserves that level of talent. As a result, I've decided to share some of my most horrific interview experiences - not interviews that I bombed, but interviews that the companies bombed - partially to make you laugh, partially to help educate companies on precisely what not to do during the interview process. I've chosen to start off with the absolute worst one, which I have lovingly dubbed "Brain Teasers and Karaoke." Yes, this all actually happened.

Bagged Lunch and Sweats

This cringe worthy adventure begins when I was in my late 20's and looking to get myself a nice healthy promotion and raise which I saw no chance of getting at my employer at the time. I had a good 6-7 years experience in my field and felt that I was ready and worthy for that next step, so I began to dip my toe in the job market. I was shocked that the very first role I applied for immediately called me for an interview within a day (side note, I think I found the job on Hot Jobs which probably should have been red flag #1). Within a day of my application, I received a call from HR inviting me in for an interview. Standard, run of the mill HR call, until the very end when she dropped two bizarre nuggets of info about the interview. (1) Round one of the interview would be a full day long. I was encouraged to bring my own bagged lunch, arrive at 8am and be prepared to stay until 6pm. (2) I was explicitly told to dress "very casual". I cannot for the life of my understand why both of these did not set off a plethora of warnings in my brain because let's face it, that's weird. However, the job was a huge step up with a company that I had a deep interest in working for, so I rolled with it. My interview was set for the following week.

Interview Day: Part One, The Cookie Monster Pants

Despite being told to dress casual, my brain refused to allow it - it's an interview for gods sake. So I ditched my normal black interview suit and opted for black pants and a sweater with heels which is as close to casual as I ever want to be for an interview. I arrive, sack lunch in hand, at 7:45am and proceed to enter the lobby, which is invariably dark and locked (Red Flag #3). I knock a few times - nothing. A few more minutes pass and a gentleman walks towards me from his car, also bearing the tell tale sack lunch and mismatched attempt at a casual outfit - he's clearly also here for an interview. He's friendly and we chat while we wait to be let in - he tells me he's been out of work for almost a year and really hopes he nails this interview - immediately making me want to leave and let him have this one. Finally, promptly at 8am, we hear a buzzer and the door is unlocked. We both walk into the lobby and are greeted by quite the scene. A woman is there to greet us. Her hair is still wet from the shower, tied up in a side ponytail, which pairs lovely with the grey hoodie and cookie monster pajama pants she has chosen for this fine Thursday morning. I initially think maybe this is a cleaning woman or maybe someone's family member visiting them at work but of course I am wrong. Cookie Monster introduces herself to us as the VP of Human Resources. My fellow candidate and I exchange looks of sheer horror.(I should point out that this is not a blue collar job or company - its a multi billion dollar corporation in one of the most expensive towns in the US and I'm interviewing for a middle management position.)

At a loss for what else to do, we follow Cookie Monster, who first takes us to the kitchen so we can toss our sack lunches in the fridge, then proceeds to show us into the main office space, which is already full and bustling with a hodgepodge of very interesting people. There are more than a few folks dressed in what are obviously fleece pajama pants (like Cookie Monster), some are wearing bedrooms slippers, everyone looks like there is a high likelihood that they slept under their desks. Without a single word, Cookie Monster takes us into the open office and seats myself and Sack Lunch at desks with a computer, pencils and a calculator. She informs us that we are to sit at the desks and await further instruction. Sack Lunch and I exchange another confused look and wait.

The Interview: Part Two, The (Mind?) Games

You're probably wondering why at this point I haven't fled the scene of this clearly insane establishment yet. As I reflect back on it, I think part of me still thought that it was worth the big promotion and the other part just desperately wanted to see what on Earth would happen next.

After sitting at my makeshift desk for a good half hour, I hear a phone ringing. It's the phone on my desk. I naturally ignore it because who the hell would be calling ME. I don't even work here. It keeps ringing. Finally the woman at the desk next to me smiles and says "you need to answer it, its for you." I stare blankly at this stranger and fumble to answer the phone. It's Cookie Monster. She asks me to come back to her office for step one of my interview. Why didn't she walk out and get me? I don't even know where her office is! Perplexed, I stand up, give a shoulder shrug and glance to my new best friend Sack Lunch, and, with portfolio in hand, begin to search for her office.

No one at this company has offices except for the CEO and HR, so its pretty easy to find our dear friend Cookie Monster. I walk into her office and am assaulted by motivational cat posters hung on every open space on her wall and more than a few beanie babies lining the perimeter of her desk. Envision Professor Umbridge's office in Harry Potter. It's essentially identical. This isn't even the weird part.

Cookie Monster smiles sweetly and hands me a sealed envelope. She instructs me to not open it until I get back to my desk and then quickly dismisses me. Even more confused than ever, I turn around and start to head back to my desk, passing Sack Lunch on the way, as he has clearly been summoned for his own envelope.

Back at my desk, I tear into the package. There is a sticky note telling me that at exactly 9am, not earlier, I am to begin the first activity in the packet. Upon completion, I am to take it back to HR, ring the bell on Cookie Monster's desk, and await further instruction. I look up and see Sack Lunch has returned and is clearly reading the same bizarre note. He looks like he might cry. It's 8:59am and we just sit and stare at each other. Then, what sounds like the fire alarm starts blaring through the office. THANK GOD! I am saved!! As I stand up and gather my things I notice that Sack Lunch and I are the only ones moving. Everyone else is going about their business. Stumbling to process all of this, it takes my brain a second to realize someone is talking on the loudspeaker. "It is 9am. Our recruits are to begin their first task." The alarm stops as does the voice.

There is absolutely NO way I'm leaving now, this is too bizarre to not see what comes next. I open my packet to find task one - it's the Jumble from the Sunday newspaper. I've given up trying to understand any of this, so I grab my pencil, finish the jumble and get up to take it to Cookie Monster. Poor Sack Lunch is still at his desk, clearly befuddled as to what alternate dimension we have both found ourselves in. As instructed, I ring the bell, hand the Jumble to Cookie Monster and am handed Task #2 in a sealed envelope. At this point, I know the drill - go back to desk, don't open it until you get there, finish, ring bell. I've become a Pavlovian dog, but I'm stubborn and there is no way I'm letting these clearly mental people see that they've shaken me. I tear into Task #2 - oh goodie! A word search!!

This insanity goes on for the entire morning. Sack Lunch and I plow through all variety of games - crossword puzzles, Sudoku, more Jumbles. It's complete and utter madness. Part of me thinks maybe the people who are interviewing us are late and won't be in until the afternoon so they are just occupying us. Who knows. At exactly 12:00pm the fire alarm goes off again, accompanied by Cookie Monster's voice advising that lunch time is here and to be back at 1pm on the nose. The entire office gets up and proceeds in an orderly fashion to the kitchen. I start to wonder if maybe they are robots or have been drugged. At least now I'll get a chance to talk to Sack Lunch and see if he thinks this is just as weird as I do. As we start to walk to the kitchen, we are headed off by Cookie Monster who instructs us to sit alone and talk to no one, as that is prohibited as part of the interview process. There goes my grand plan. I can only imagine what the afternoon holds.

The Interview: Part Three, The Weird Part

After a sad and lonely lunch where I seriously contemplated my life as a whole and what exactly led me to this point, Sack Lunch and I retire back to our desks. The novelty of this little charade has worn off and I'm officially annoyed. I am committed to tell Cookie Monster that I would like to know when I will actually get to speak to someone about my skills and background, which seems like a completely reasonable request for an interview. Sure enough my desk phone rings right away. This time I know I'm supposed to answer it, and once again I've been summoned to the lair of Cookie Monster. Determined to get an actual interview, I march in and she hands me another sealed envelope, flashing her sickeningly sweet smile. I politely say that I would like to understand when I will get to speak with someone for my interview and she responds in the weirdest possible way - "The vocal portion of the interview begins at 2pm." What odd phrasing! Vocal portion? Fine Cookie Monster, I will do another hour of Jumbles awaiting phase two.

Back to my desk I trudge, churning out another packet of brain teasers for the next hour. As promised, at exactly 2pm, the all too familiar alarm goes off, but this time no Cookie Monster. Once again, Sack Lunch and I exchange looks, contemplating what on Earth could be next. Out of nowhere, a small stage is being wheeled towards us. There is a barstool on the stage and some kind of speaker. The entire office is standing up as this bizarre scene is being wheeled directly at me. What. The. Hell. Full on panic mode sets in. I am paralyzed by both fear and utter curiosity. For a faint moment I think 'This is how I die' because I literally have no idea what is going on. Sack Lunch has gone completely pale and is sweating profusely.

Finally, the bizarre makeshift stage is parked in front of me and a man offers his hand to me to go onto the stage. This is when I crack. I demand to know what on Earth is going on and what exactly this stage is for. A waves of chuckles goes through the whole office but no one answers me. Finally, here comes Cookie Monster. She informs me that this is the vocal portion of my interview and hands me a thick book. She instructs me to select the song that best describes me and then get on the stage and sing. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Somehow, I am still able to maintain a semblance of professional decorum, as I gather my purse and coat and tell Cookie Monster that I do not think this place is the right fit for me. I walk over to Sack Lunch and say "come on man let's go." He stares at the floor and mutters "I really need a job, I have to stay." I'm completely gutted for him but I also feel like I need to leave ASAP before this crazy train gets even worse. I flee to my car and peel wheels out of the parking lot, never looking back.

The next day

The day after what I can only refer to as the weirdest interview in history, I get a call from Cookie Monster. She informs me that they were very impressed with me and invites me back for second round interviews. I have to pinch myself to ensure I'm not dreaming. Is this real? I have absolutely zero intention of ever setting foot in that insane asylum again but I'm also curious. I ask what exactly the second round of interviews entail. She informs me that it will be very similar to round one, only with more advanced brain teasers. I am a firm believer that you never burn a professional bridge, so I tell her that I just don't think this is the right fit. That is the last I ever hear of Cookie Monster.

You are not alone

In the days and weeks after this train wreck, I share my story with some of my colleagues and I am AMAZED at how many people immediately guess what company this was. In the region of the country I live in, there are not a lot of companies, so people tend to know people as they bounce around and work at the limited CPG firms we have. It turns out that a lot of people have interviewed there or heard about people who have - all with the same experience as me! Always the brain teasers, always the karaoke. The only people who ever fathomed going back for round two were folks like poor sweet Sack Lunch who desperately needed a job. I think about him often and truly hope he was able to find a good job elsewhere.

It's been just about 10 years since this interview and I still laugh about it, because let's face it, it's an amazing story. This company has become somewhat of a joke locally, as tales of their bizarre interview practices have been a part of the local CPG circles for years. Yet somehow they are thriving. They are still in business and from what I gather expanding and making a decent profit. I'm still curious as to which type of candidate would actually work there.

While this is probably a very extreme example, the point (aside from giving you a good laugh) is for companies to be very cognizant of how they show up to an interview. The only thing I will give this company credit for is that they were very forthcoming with their culture. Granted, 90% of the population would find it absurd and bizarre, but at least you knew what you were getting into. And, if you are like poor Sack Lunch and you have to take a role that is a bad fit to make ends meet, we've all been there. Just recognize it for what it is and continue looking for that perfect fit. It's out there and you most likely won't have to sing karaoke to get it.