When interviewee become Interviewer

The brain expand with an idea is irreversible process

Ah, summer of 2004—young, ambitious, and absolutely convinced that the world was mine for the taking. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

After what felt like an eternity (actually just an hour) of traveling in the kind of packed local train that should come with a survival guide, I arrived. Starving, mildly suffocated, and now blessed with a mix of sweat and the finest local fragrance Mumbai could offer, I made it to the campus for my big interview. On a Saturday, no less—because nothing screams “you’re about to make it” like being interrogated on a weekend.

And then came the watchman—the unsung gatekeeper of corporate destiny. He gave me a look that said "You? Here? Really?" and asked for an ID. The next five minutes were an Oscar-worthy performance of silent judgment. He smiled. I smiled back. We both knew the truth—I was one rejection away from being valued cheaper than a Dadar Vadapav. But hey, he finally let me in.

I somehow miraculously cleared the aptitude and English test—a true underdog moment. Golden buzzer? Yes. Talent? Questionable. But victory is victory, no?

Then came the final boss battle—the interview room. Enter: The Interviewer. A guy who had clearly seen too much, surviving on a coffee mug and a fragile will to live through one more candidate before his weekend officially began. He looked at me. I looked at him. We both knew neither of us wanted to be there.

Then, the moment of truth—he picked up my resume. Ah, my masterpiece, where I had proudly declared reading as my hobby—because apparently skimming through Sakal, Navbharat, and Page 3 gossip columns made me an intellectual. No impressive projects. No rare skill sets. Just Visual Basic—the technology that even dinosaurs had probably moved on from.

And yet, against all odds, he gave me a chance—that golden, mystical, deeply philosophical question that we all pretend to have the answer to:

"Tell me about yourself?"

And that, my friends, is the story of how I almost conquered the world—almost.

The Art of Failing Spectacularly

There I was, coconut oil proudly glistening on my head, wearing clothes that barely qualified as “formal” (unless “freshly ironed panic” was a dress code). And I began my mugged-up monologue—a masterpiece of unnecessary details.

I told him everything—who’s in my family, what my father does, what my brother does, even my legendary Delhi wale uncle (because obviously, his existence alone should have impressed the interviewer). Three minutes in, my body had already switched to self-destruct mode—heart racing, hands trembling, sweat levels rivaling Mumbai humidity, and words? Refusing to leave my mouth like they were on a strike.

And then it happened. Brain freeze. Total shutdown. I had achieved invincibility. No one could hurt me now because, well, I wasn’t listening, seeing, or responding. It was almost peaceful—like I had transcended into another dimension.

But this interviewer? Oh no, he wasn’t done. He decided to hit me with the ultimate curveball—

"What is a static variable?"

Rally? My blood had literally stopped flowing, so maybe that was static too? But of course, "Bedardi ne ek na suni is abla ki kahani." He kept going, completely unfazed, like he was some AI program designed to test my patience. Meanwhile, my brain was running its own background music—

?? "Jaane kya dhoondta hai ye mera dil, tujhko kya chahiye zindagi?" ??

And oh, did I find the answer? No. But I did find out it takes exactly 29 interviews to regain your senses.

Quite a journey, right?

The Great Circle of Corporate Life

Cut to 2010. Oh, what a transformation. From trembling fresher to corporate Shahrukh. Quite the leap, right? Confidence was dripping off my face, and arrogance? Worn proudly on my sleeves—because nothing says "I’ve made it" like throwing attitude at work.

My manager was practically begging me to come in on the weekend for interviews. ME. The same guy who once froze mid-sentence in an interview. Naturally, I threw a few tantrums first—just to make sure they knew exactly how important I had become.

So, there I was, skimming through resumes like I was sorting Oscar nominations, and then—a candidate entered. He sat across from me, nervous but polite, greeted me with the usual "Good afternoon, Sir" (as if that “Sir” was actually earned).

Then came the age-old ritual, the corporate "Ma ka Kangan" of interview questions—“Tell me about yourself?” This question had now been passed down to me, just as it was once thrown at my clueless self in 2004.

I remember, he was from Latur. Not the most impressive presence, barely able to converse in English. Three minutes in, and my internal verdict was already passed. He’s not good enough, doesn’t belong in my company, and most importantly—not worth my time (as if I was busy solving the Theory of Everything).

And then—it happened.

His body started trembling, his heart raced so hard I could almost hear it pounding across the table. His eyes welled up, and his words started fumbling—

And in that moment, I saw 2004 me, sitting right in front of me.

The Moment Everything Crashed

And just like that—in five seconds, my entire past came crashing down in front of my eyes.

All that arrogance, that forced attitude, that delusion of "I’ve made it"—shattered. Because there he was. Me. Exactly me. Same fear, same panic, the same helpless brain freeze I once went through.

I could see it coming—the moment when his mind would just shut down, when he would stop hearing, seeing, or even existing in that room. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not in front of me.

So, for the first time in my "almighty interviewer" role, I asked a different question—the one I wished someone had asked me back in 2004.

I looked at him and said:

"Neeraj (name changed), ye chhodo... ye batao, college me kya machaya?" (Forget this. Tell me—what was your cheap thrill in college?)

And just like that—everything changed.

The tension broke, his eyes lit up, and for the next 10 minutes, we talked like two normal human beings. His stories, his struggles, his failed interviews, his funniest interview experience—we laughed, we shared, and he breathed again.

I didn’t hire him. But he left my room smiling.

And that was more than what I could say about myself when I ran out of my first interview.

The whole point of this Nirupa Roy-level emotional flashback is simple: We forget where we started and judge people only from where we stand today.

I made those mistakes—plenty of them—until reality slapped me harder than my first failed interview. And I decided—never again.

So, one fine weekend, instead of doom-scrolling or pretending to work, I sat down and wrote a list of all the things I wish someone had done for me when I was being grilled in those early interviews. Over time, this list evolved, just like my realization that Visual Basic wasn’t a great career choice.

And since "Kyuki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi", let’s accept the circle of corporate karma—what goes around, comes around.

Kyu ki Sas bhi kabhi bahu thi

This list could be endless (and I could easily write a TED Talk on each point), but let’s keep it short and focus on nine critical takeaways that helped me become more human—and, believe it or not, actually hire people who built some of the world’s largest scalable systems.

Don’t Be a Demigod (You’re Not Handing Out Salvation Here)

Congratulations, you’ve made it big. You’ve earned that seat across the interview table. But before you start floating in divine superiority, remember—you’re not here to bless someone with a job.

You’re spending 60 minutes of your life with a stranger (yes, your precious, valuable time). So, instead of using it to impress them with your greatness, how about actually getting to know them?

• Don’t make things sound unachievable for yourself or your organization.
• Make them feel comfortable in your presence.
• Don’t use jargon; ask simple questions.
• Don’t give the impression that you were born a genius. If possible, give them a glimpse of your failures as well.

If your presence makes someone uncomfortable, Question your presence

You Are the Organization’s PR Machine (Whether You Like It or Not)

For the next 60 minutes, you’re not just an interviewer—you’re the entire company in human form. The candidate will see your org through your words, your attitude, and yes, even that tired look on your face.

So maybe, just maybe, figure out what your company actually stands for before you start mumbling about “culture.” And no, your personal mood swings don’t count as company values.

Also, don’t go full “fairy tale mode.” Be real. Tell them what’s great, what’s a mess, and how people survive and thrive despite it.

For example:

• “We believe in real problem-solving.” Cool. Prove it. Tell them about that time your teammate saved a crashing system while you stared at the screen in silent panic.
• “We have an open-door policy.” Nice. Maybe explain how approvals actually work instead of pretending decisions happen over casual coffee chats.

Because if you paint a rosy fantasy, guess what? They’ll figure out the truth soon enough.

Remove Unconscious Bias – Because Yes, You’re Biased Too

News flash: You’re biased. So am I. So is literally everyone. The trick isn’t pretending to be a saint, it’s figuring out how to minimize the damage.

Here’s a fun reality check—I judge candidates within the first 5 minutes. Yep, just like that. “Oh, he might not be comfortable with late nights,” or “Hmm, ambiguity might freak him out.” The difference? I don’t trust my own judgment.

Instead, I spend the next few questions trying to prove myself wrong. And let me tell you—it’s painful when you realize your genius first impressions were garbage.

Another great trick? Write down your strongest opinions about the “ideal candidate” and then actively avoid questions that confirm those biases. Because guess what? We all love hiring people who remind us of ourselves—and that’s exactly why so many teams look like a corporate clone army.

So do yourself (and the candidate) a favor—challenge your assumptions before they make a hiring decision for you.

Don’t Let Your Mood Decide Someone’s Future

You’ve had a long day. Maybe traffic was hell. Maybe your kid forgot his homework (again). Maybe you just came out of a soul-draining budget meeting that made you question your life choices.

And now, suddenly, you’re in an interview, evaluating someone’s career. No pressure, right?

Here’s the problem: Your mood leaks into your decisions. And trust me, rejecting a candidate just because you’re still mad about Excel spreadsheets is not a good look.

So do yourself (and them) a favor—take a 10-minute reset before every interview. Watch a dumb YouTube video, scroll memes, meditate—whatever it takes to flush out the mental garbage.

How to Know You’re Letting It Get to You:

1. Write down a few interview questions immediately after your last meeting.
2. After the interview, compare them to what you actually asked.
3. If they’re wildly different, congrats—you just proved your mood hijacked your brain.

Fix it. Your bad morning shouldn’t cost someone a good opportunity.

Set the criteria

Candidates aren’t mind readers. If they don’t know what you’re looking for, they’ll spend the interview blindly guessing what might impress you.

Instead of enjoying their panic-driven monologue, maybe just tell them upfront what you’re assessing—Problem-solving? Production handling? Communication skills?

That way, they actually answer the question you care about instead of randomly throwing words, hoping something sticks.

Help them get in the right frame of mind—not into a state of confusion.

It’s about him

Your brain is a museum of your own experiences, and guess what? That’s completely irrelevant in this interview.

You’re not here to compare his journey to yours or to judge him based on how you would have done it. It’s about what he knows, not what you know. What he can do, not what you could have done.

Here’s a trick—pick a problem he has solved and dive into it. Ask how he would solve it today. Not how you think it should be solved.

Another hack? Ask something you don’t know the answer to. See how he thinks, not how well he parrots your expertise. Example: “How would you wire your dream home?” No bias, no preloaded expectations—just pure thought process.

Because at the end of the day, he’s not here to be you. He’s here to be the best version of himself.

Write Transcript

I beg you, please start writing actual feedback. Half of the interview notes I’ve seen are as ambiguous as the "Existence of God."

"Lacks analytical skills." Oh really? And you figured that out by asking him to reverse a linked list? Incredible. Maybe next time, try reading minds too.

Here’s a thought—write a transcript. Note down what you asked, what he answered, and how he reasoned through it. This way, we can all see the same response from different angles instead of relying on some half-baked, one-liner verdict.

And for the love of logic, stop summarizing candidates in "Pros & Cons" like they’re a restaurant review.

No matter how silly the question is, its answer which change the course of history.

Don’t look for pots, look for material

We all love a ready possession flat—move in, no hassle. But guess what? Try remodeling it later, and you’re stuck.

Hiring is the same. If you’re only looking for perfectly polished, opinion-loaded “finished products,” you’re setting yourself up for either a great fit or a spectacular disaster. No in-between.

Instead, hire the right raw material—someone with strong capabilities but flexible enough to adapt. Because a good brick can be shaped. A rigid, prebuilt structure? Not so much.

Give feedback

Interviews usually end with the mandatory ritual: "Do you have any questions?" And the candidate, desperate to sound smart, asks something they Googled five minutes ago.

Instead of rushing to wrap up, how about actually giving them feedback? Tell them where they struggled, where you expected a better answer, and where they absolutely nailed it.

For you, this is just one more interview. For them, it could be a learning experience that changes their next one. You just spent 60 minutes of your life evaluating them—maybe use one more minute to actually help them improve.

The one who remain consistent in odd and even situation is Muni.. Muni bano parth Muni,,,