Why you shouldn’t schedule an interview on a recruiter’s bad day

How I found out that cat puke can cost you a job.

Between graduating college, losing my job to the pandemic, and prioritizing my mental health, I’ve been interviewing for jobs on and off for the last three years.

My methods for job hunting have varied over time–: I focused on networking instead of cold applications, sought out mentors in my desired field, and endlessly tweaked the keywords in my resume. But the one thing that remained was the awful feeling of rejection.

For those familiar with the Enneagram, I’m a 5. Like most 5s, I desperately strive to be prepared and capable, and my core fear is being the opposite–: feeling or being inept, incompetent, or ill-equipped.

Over the past three years, every rejection email I received (and there were many) screamed, “You don’t have the right qualifications!” “You’re not competent enough for this job!” “Your previous achievements haven’t prepared you enough!”

And granted, some of the jobs I applied for were a long shot (the issue of women and minorities not applying to jobs they think they’re underqualified for is another issue for another article). But others were ones I knew I was a perfect fit for and would kick butt at if they only gave me a chance.

Finally, one interview wasn’t followed by a rejection letter. And that turned into a job. Not just any old job but one as a recruiter.

The search was over, and oh, how the tables had turned.

The Job

Before I even started, I was determined to lead an interview process better than most I had experienced. I would follow up with every candidate, give seemingly under-qualified candidates a chance, provide feedback on why they weren’t hired, and above all, no ghosting.

The bar was low. Be better than a Tinder date.

And I failed spectacularly. Of course, I didn’t completely neglect every candidate that came my way. But as someone who projects my fear of rejection onto everyone else, each candidate who received a subpar experience and each template rejection email I sent out felt like a failure. Looking back, I realized it was for two reasons.

First, I had managed to get into recruiting right as the Great Resignation started picking up speed, and we were already grossly understaffed. The Talent team consisted of two of us, often hiring for 7+ different roles at a time, and at one point we were spread across four different industries.

But I wasn’t just recruiting. I was wearing enough hats to open up my own millinery. I was moonlighting on the business ops and People Ops teams–: helping onboard and train new hires, meeting administrative needs, planning company events, assisting our Portfolio Companies with any of their various needs, and managing the office. All the while, having the key performance indicators (KPIs) of someone whose sole job was recruiting 9 am-6 pm. After all, “everyone’s work is everyone’s work,” as I was often told.

The second reason I failed was because I was only human. The same humanness that made me want to give candidates a stellar experience would get in the way.

I was working through my lunch breaks, drinking tea by the gallon to keep from losing my voice, and working 45+ hours on the “slow” weeks and still didn’t have the time to meet the standards I had set for myself. I barely had the time to give candidates feedback when they asked for it, let alone give any to those who didn’t ask for it. Many great prospects slipped through our fingers or had to follow up with us several times, and the interview process took longer than we (and the candidates) would have liked.

After a particularly long day, I was filtering through inbound applications on the subway ride home. I was tired and the noisy buskers walking up and down the train car added to my irritation. Suddenly (and as I rejected yet another application), it dawned on me that the decision to move a candidate forward is dependent on the interviewer’s personal circumstances just as much (if not more) than the candidate.

Which brings me to my original point: don’t schedule an interview on a recruiter’s bad day.

I do say this tongue in cheek, as it’s impossible for anyone to see someone’s inner feelings or foresee the future (and if you could, you wouldn’t be applying for jobs anyway. You’d be busy relaxing in the Bahamas with a pina colada because you bought Bitcoin in 2010).

The Recruiter

To be fair, not all candidates are good fits. I’ve received resumes that listed “friendship time” under their skills section. I interviewed candidates who arrived high, drunk, or who clearly hadn’t read the job description. Heck, I took one call from a candidate who repeatedly got the name of the company wrong in all of our email correspondence.

But I’ve also taken calls from candidates who, on paper, weren’t fully qualified and moved forward candidates who were so nervous they could barely answer my questions.

In the end, it all came down to what kind of day I was having. On my good days, I was willing to give the candidate who wasn’t a “perfect fit” a chance if they were excited about the role or company. In fact, one of the best hires we made was a very nervous recent graduate who we almost rejected.

But on the bad days, I was searching for candidates who looked perfect on paper. I didn’t have the emotional or mental capacity or the time to spend all day on the phone with candidates I wasn’t sure could do the job.

I was stretched too thin to do the deep work that finds exceptional candidates.

The other factor often at play was the order in which I interviewed candidates.

For example, a candidate who had relevant experience and was excited about the industry, but maybe didn’t have as much experience as we were looking for, or fumbled a few interview questions, might be a solid 7/10.

But while the goal was to be impartial and judge each candidate on their own merits, it’s impossible to not compare a candidate to the interviewee right before.

If I spoke to that 7/10 candidate after two 3/10 candidates, I was more likely to move them forward in the interview process. But if I spoke to that same candidate after two 9/10 candidates, I was far less likely to move the 7/10 forward.

Where does this leave those who can’t predict the future?

I’m grateful for the time I spent as a recruiter, both the good, the bad, and the ugly. Experiencing firsthand the challenges recruiting teams face gives me more empathy as an applicant, and I’m looking forward to using my knowledge to build amazing People Ops teams in the future.

For those on the candidate side of the process, here are a few things to remember, in hopes that you go easy on yourself until you get that amazing job offer:

• Every recruiter has a different process and method, and has good days and bad days.
• There are more factors at work than the application you submit and the interview with the hiring manager.
• The mechanics of submitting applications is easy, but don’t forget to focus on the other things that energize you and make you stand out.

It’s not right, fair, or ideal, but that job that you thought you were a perfect fit for? Who knows, you might have been the last in a very long day of calls, or had your interview just minutes after they nearly got hit by a car on the way back from a coffee run, or their cat threw up on their bed for the third time that day.

The only standard you should hold yourself to should be yourself. Breathe, and put your best foot forward.

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