I've never sat on this side of the table before. The side where you ask the questions, letting a tense silence hang in the air. The side that makes the decision that opens or closes doors in a person's life.
I usually sit on the other side where nervous tension prevails. My brain and all memory depart and just a shell of the person I am sits there sputtering responses that make no sense.
Today, I was the interviewer. My colleague and I had reviewed a pile of applications and selected the best. That part was easy - simple black facts on white paper. There were no faces or personalities to go with a name. The candidates took an English test which weeded out over half our selection. The remaining five pieces of paper became five names with faces and personalities and quirks and stories. It absolutely killed me that I had to choose one of those people.
Every story was unique. Each person had a life they would return to. A wife would ask how the interview went. They would second guess if they had answered well. They will agonize over the unknown for several days because they were all honest - they want the job.
I know how they feel. I have been there often. I know how it feels to not be chosen and I know how it feels to be chosen, and it never makes sense. Now I understand a bit of why - because it doesn't make sense. There are too many factors to consider to make a perfect choice when you are on the choosing side of the table.
For now, I would be happy to not have to go to the table. I have two more years here before I have to face that again.
Today, I was the interviewer. My colleague and I had reviewed a pile of applications and selected the best. That part was easy - simple black facts on white paper. There were no faces or personalities to go with a name. The candidates took an English test which weeded out over half our selection. The remaining five pieces of paper became five names with faces and personalities and quirks and stories. It absolutely killed me that I had to choose one of those people.
Every story was unique. Each person had a life they would return to. A wife would ask how the interview went. They would second guess if they had answered well. They will agonize over the unknown for several days because they were all honest - they want the job.
I know how they feel. I have been there often. I know how it feels to not be chosen and I know how it feels to be chosen, and it never makes sense. Now I understand a bit of why - because it doesn't make sense. There are too many factors to consider to make a perfect choice when you are on the choosing side of the table.
For now, I would be happy to not have to go to the table. I have two more years here before I have to face that again.
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