Funny Job Interview Stories

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Inspired by this thread, which I didn’t want to hijack.

I want to hear about job interviews gone awry. I’ll start.

I’m a Senior in college (1989). I’m going to an on-campus interview, which is also my first real job interview ever. So I’m a little nervous. I walk in to the interview area, which is set up in an administration building. Everything is going ok until my leg starts to fall asleep about 15 minutes in. I’m sitting across from the interviewer with one leg crossed over the other and it is freakin’ numb. Pins and needles numb. The interview is nearing it’s natural end, but no matter how hard I use telepathy, that leg ain’t responding. I don’t even listen to what he’s saying, I’m just thinking “How am I going to stand up? This is bad!” It gets to the point where he’s obviously done, but I’m stalling. He hands me his card. I make a big show of looking at it, thanking him, and putting it in my suit pocket. Still trying to work some feeling back in the leg. Finally, he stands up and walks to the door. I have no choice now, so I stand up gingerly and start towards him. He extends his hand and as I go to shake it, the dead leg gives out and I lunge at him as it collapses. I am able to stay up, barely, but I practically crash into him and just keep going, muttering “Thanks” as I hobble out. Needless to say I didn’t get the job.

2

Not exactly at the interview, but: I had a job not long after college, but then lost it with a downturn in the economy. I saw an ad in the paper for a position that seemed right for my level of experience. I sent in my resume, followed up with a phone call and got an interview. I got to the firm early, sat in the lobby and read a trade magazine while I waited to be called. I was part way through an interesting article when the department head showed up to ask me down to his office.

It seemed that they were interviewing for a position sometime in the future, but weren’t able to authorize it just yet. Not what I wanted to hear being unemployed and newly married. The interview went well, but I left with him telling me to call back every month to see if they were ready to hire. Great.

I went back to the lobby, intending to finish the article. I looked over at the cute young receptionist, said “What the hell, they aren’t going to hire me anyway”, grabbed the magazine and walked out as she laughed.

It did take a few months of calling, but they did actually hire me. I walked in to the reception area my first day and the receptionist grinned at me.

It’s almost thirty years later and I’m still here. I finally got rid of the magazine in my last office move, figuring they wouldn’t be looking for it after all this time.

3

My brother’s friend whooped it up the night before an interview. The interview was at the college, so the interviewer wasn’t too shocked to see the state of him. He asked “Rough night last night?” to which he answered yes. The recruiter then asked “How many did you have”

To which he followed with the line that made him famous amongst his peers.

“A good drinker doesn’t count”

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get the job.

4

Not my interview thankfully, but I was interviewing contract staff one time and made a guy cry.

I was going through the interview process, for a software test position, and did a routine question - I asked him to build a test plan for a widget by asking him what he would test for the widget. I think I used a pen as an example.

Me: So how would you test this pen?

Him: Well, I would make sure it writes.

Me: OK, good. What else?

Him: Make sure it writes upside down?

Me: And then?

This went on for 5 minutes or so, him getting a more and more panicked look in his eye and giving stranger and stranger answers, until he finally broke down in tears right in front of me, sobbing, the whole lot. I was a bit shocked; I wasn’t being aggressive, pressurizing him, shouting, or anything. Finally, after getting him water, and a kleenex, and calming him down, I got him talking again and asked him if he was ok, and he said he wasn’t really up to this. I said I understood, apologised for upsetting him, walked him out the door, and didn’t hire him.

It was a bit bizarre, and I yelled at the recruiter for like 10 minutes for sending this poor schmuck into the known dragon’s den of our office. But way way weird - I now have a reputation with HR of being one of the toughest interviewers in the office and if they ever want to not hire someone they call me! :slight_smile:

5

I interviewed for a job with a (very short, male) veterinarian when I was in college. I am not short. After touring the clinic, we were to continue the interview in his office. As he climbed up into his desk chair, I looked down onto the floor at the chair that I was to sit in. It was either children’s furniture, or he’d cut the legs off, or both. My knees were hanging out around my ears through the rest of the interview. I distinctly remember being very glad that my clothing preferences don’t include skirts or dresses. I didn’t get the job, and I was not sad.

6

15ish years ago. I was on the hiring side of things. Well, I was one of the staff members on an existing large project and we were looking to recruit a new person; I’d done a handful of interviews before and happened to be in the office and breathing that day, so got roped being one of the interviewers.

I had just a few minutes to read the fellow’s resume (unlike one other “warm body” day where I was handed a resume quite literally as the candidate and I were greeting each other. That sucked). So at least I was somewhat prepared.

Enough so that I did not laugh at his last name, which was the same as a main character from a 60-70s era sitcom. The theme song was, of course, running through my head the entire time.

The candidate sat across from me, with a “deer in headlights” look. Pretty much shaking with nerves. Barely spoke. No rapport whatsoever - you know the kind of interview where you click with the person across the desk, and the conversation just flows? Not happening that day. Not even close. It was painful.

So we finished up fairly quickly. I passed him along to the project director for her interview. She showed up at my desk less than 10 minutes later - no kidding - rolling her eyes, and asked “What did you DO to that poor fellow?”. She’d known me for years and knew I hadn’t done a damn thing to him (nor, as far as I know, am I particularly terrifying to look at unless the kids have, say, sprayed the hose from the backyard into the family room…) so we were howling with laughter. Yes, he just as nervous for her as he was for me.

He did not, as you can imagine, get the job.

7

Ted Baxter?

Donald Hollanger?

Keith Partridge?

I gotta know!

8

This was a group hire for temps. Something like 15 of us were sitting around a table while the “boss” explained what the job was all about. We would be hired as temps, then if it worked out we’d be hired as full time employees.

Boss: “This is a new branch of the corporation, so you’ll be getting in on the ground floor.”

Ditz: “Oh good, no elevators or escalators. I like that!”

9

Gilligan? Brady?

10

(I think it was the whole name, not just one of them)

Jed Clampett?

11

(bolding mine)

That (combined with the immediately memorable theme song) is what led me straight to Gilligan. Brady was sort of an afterthought, really.

12

I’m the operations manager for a small-town radio station. (That’s my full-time job – I also teach English comp at the local college and at the local prison). So a couple of years ago I was interviewing a 22-year-old woman – younger than my youngest daughter-in-law – for a part-time position. I knew she came from a fairly religious family, so I figured she was pretty strait-laced. She was just the most innocent, fresh-faced, outright adorable blonde girl one could imagine, and couldn’t have looked more out of place. I wanted to make sure she understood that the creative types around the station were really enslaved by their inner children. I said quite bluntly that the humor level was just about junior high level, and poop jokes were considered sophisticated humor in our office. She looked at me with wide, lovely eyes and said softly, “I think I would fit in here just fine.” I was more than a little bit skeptical. “Why do you think that?” I asked. “Well,” she replied, “I have a remote-controlled fart machine.” I had to have her repeat it, then almost fell out of my chair laughing. I told her to come back the next day for a follow-up interview, and bring the RCFM. Damned if she didn’t. The sales and air people-- our so-called “creative” staff – were all there and acted like kids at Christmas. Naturally, we hired her on the spot.

Later, the owner/general manager came by the station, met her, then asked me (facetiously, since’ we’d already hired her) whether she was qualified. She pulled out the fart machine and demonstrated it. He laughed, said “Yep, she’s qualified!” and walked away.

13

A long time ago I worked as the office manager for Harry & Bob, the birdfeeder telemarketing magnates. They were former appliance salesmen and drinking buddies who’d gone into business together when Bob confided in Harry that he hadn’t been paying for said birdfeeders and might be having his legs broken sometime soon.

On my first day of work we learned that their #2 product, Jones Ant Killer, had been banned by the EPA (something about lingering in soil for 100 years or so). Harry’s lead salesperson, who I later learned was his girlfriend, also quit that day (both her job and girlfriend status).

However, I had a student husband to support and Harry & Bob had a pile of accounts receivables that no one had touched in months, so I set about making calls. I also typed Harry’s correspondence (to his suppliers and the IRS, for example) which always started out “I don’t know what happened” and ended “Please advise.”

Well, it wasn’t long until my calls brought in a fair amount of money, around $50k or so. Harry took this to mean that business was booming. So he had me place an ad for a receptionist. I did the initial screening of the interviewees.

Did he hire the 40-yr-old in sensible shoes and a brown skirt? Nope.

Did he hire the brunette in the smart blue pantsuit? Nope.

He hired the blond in the shiny magenta jumper who just happened to mention, during their interview, that she’d “really like to party with him.” As I recall, she filed all documents under “J”.

However, shortly after that the bank stopped cashing any of our paychecks (as opposed to honoring who ever got there first), so we all beat it out of there.

Last I heard of Harry, the Sheriff had seized his pay-you-not-to-farm farm.

14

Bunker?

15

Bodine?

Fife?

16

Stivic? Morganstern?

17

Smart?

Stevens?

Douglas?

18

I think I may have told this one before, but what the hey…

I was going to be interviewing for A Real Job. No more hacker crap in a dingy basement – I was moving up and selling out! I showered the crud off, put on my best suit, realized that “best” was a relative concept, took off said suit, went suit shopping, put on my new best suit, and made the drive to Corporate Bigwig HQ.

A drive, I might add, I made in my beat-to-shit car, complete with 4,000 empty soda cans and 1,100 empty fast-food bags all over the passenger and rear seats. But hey, I looked good, and it’s not like the interviewer ever gets in your car, right?

So I go to CBHQ, park in the front lot, and go in for my interview. I’m told to take a seat and wait. And I wait. And wait. And wait and wait and wait and geez! Where the hell is the interviewer??

Finally she comes in, greet me, and apologizes.

"I’m so sorry you had to wait so long. You must’ve been given bad directions – this isn’t our parking lot. Our office is on another part of the corporate campus. But no problem…we’ll just take your car there.

I either had to convince her that even though I lived 50 miles away I decided to walk that day, or fess up. Yes, fine, I drive a messy car, but I do a good job at work. Obviously, no one expects the interviewer to get in your car, so I didn’t clean it out.

Nailed the interview, got the job, and I’m still there – long after the lady who was good enough to ignore a messy car had been laid off, I might add.

19

I think I posted this story in another awful interviews thread, but it never fails to amuse me for some sick, twisted reason:

My best friend’s little brother was interviewing for his first job out of college. The interviewer was explaining what the company was all about, what the job required, etc., when “Fred” suddenly screamed out “Oh, my nuts!” grabbed his crotch and fell out of his chair unconscious.

I’m a little hazy on the details after this, but they called 911 of course, and off he went to the hospital. It turns out that the cord attached to one of his testicles had wrapped around the testicle and … honestly I don’t like thinking about the story at this point.

He was fine. He had to have surgery, but his fine now.

He didn’t get the job. To this day, we still suddenly yell out “Oh, my nuts” at random times.

20

I’m glad he’s okay. Much less guilt for my laughing out loud.