How to Fail a Job Interview

Working at a bookstore has been an idyllic dream of mine since I was nine years old. A quiet, uncrowded store packed with thousands of stories? What sane person wouldn't love that. Yesterday, this dream was a lick from my future. I had the position in my grasp. Or really just an interview at two o'clock, but you know. Details.

I was a bit nervous. I had only had one interview before, and that was at Jewel. Let's just say they aren't the most formal or organized employers. And where I could have cared less about Jewel, I wanted this job.

Caring was my first mistake. Caring makes me nervous.

I put on a nice dress, made myself feel confident and pretty, and drove down to the nearest Barnes and Noble.

The woman I met with picked a table at the cafe and pulled my name out of a fat stack of applications. I laughed nervously and nodded when she said something I didn't quite catch.

She explained what the job would require of me, that I had to be outgoing, determined, and energetic. I lied and assured her I was all of those things. Then came the questions.

"Tell me about a time at one of your other jobs that you had to deal with a difficult question. Tell me about a poor relationship with a coworker and how you handled it. How many items do you put in a bag at Jewel?"

That one got me. Gaping, I froze and scrambled for an answer. "I...it depends. On what is in...on what you're bagging. You know? Yeah." I swallowed, laughed, and waited for her to tell me why the hell that was relevant. Why was it necessary to bring up the horrors I experienced at Jewel.

She grinned and waved her hand. "Oh I'm just kidding. I only ask because I used to a manager at Jewel." She laughed, I tittered nervously, and she finished by saying, "It's eight, by the way."

Great. Thanks for nearly giving me a heart attack.

But the woman was nice enough. She told me I was doing fine in the voice a teacher watching me stumble across a speech. Then she stood. "Okay, I'm going to have someone else interview you now."

Taken by surprise, I nodded and waited for the next woman to sit down.

Most of the questions were the same. My answers, however, were different, even less sure. For example:

"What did you like about working at Jewel?"

I wanted to say nothing. But "the work was simple and straight forward" was the only reply my mind could manage.
And the final question. Here's where nervous me screwed up majorly, the me that just wanted to be done, to drive home and meet with a friend and forget about the job. She asked me that typical question that every applicant is told to expect: "What is your biggest weakness?"

And I told her the truth.

"I'm horrible at talking to people," I blurted, and the mistake was out on the table before I could explain. The finality of her pen's scribbles signed my fantasy's death sentence.

"I shouldn't have said that," I whispered out loud, and I almost stared cracking up.

I left the bookstore knowing I wouldn't get a call back, but I really didn't mind. Somehow, part of me was glad I'd messed up. At least next time, I will have a better grasp on the interview process.

Now I know that when it comes to the real world, it's always best to bend the truth to get yourself ahead.