I suspect that I am not alone when saying that interviews are stressful. You have a limited amount of time, sitting in a room with strangers, to explain how you work and how you can directly benefit them while trying not to sound like a braggart or a liar. While there is some prep work that you can (and definitely should) do, such as researching the company website and re-reading the job posting before you go so you know what, specifically, they're looking for, it's still being put on the spot.
For the longest time, I approached interviews as one would an interrogation: prepared to answer any question, and slightly suspicious of ulterior motives help by those in charge. It wasn't until I moved out to Colorado and went to an interview while tired and jet-lagged that I realized I was doing myself a disservice by approaching it thusly. In that interview, I just acted like myself, said what crossed my mind, and actually took one of the interviewers to task for asking insulting questions in a snide tone of voice. I was later informed that he did that to everyone, and only people who stood up to him and didn't take his crap were hired. I don't think that's a particularly great way to conduct an interview, but it helped me realize I needed to change my view.
This was reaffirmed when I was recently contacted by a company I had applied to in a technical support capacity called me back to offer a different job. The lady on the phone- who, I later learned, was one of the higher-ups- said that they'd filled that particular position, but they had another one open that they hadn't even posted yet, and my resume looked like a good match. She described what it would cover (which seemed like a sort of jack-of-all-trades, backup and support to all departments, among other things), and asked if I was interested. The entire time she was talking, however, she sounded just as nervous as I feel every time the phone rings when I'm job hunting.
In my case, I had attributed that nervousness to the presumption that someone in a position of power was judging my aptitude, and comparing it against an internal list of desired qualities. But then why would this lady, who already held a position of power, sound just as nervous when talking to an unemployed college graduate? To my way of thinking, it didn't make sense, so... I had to find another theory that would cover all the data. (Yes, I'm a dork; I love the scientific method.)
Perhaps a better theory to explain why people of all walks and stages of life are nervous when describing things to each other is this: society today, let's face it, is pretty rude. When people are hassled by something out of the norm- be it weather, panhandlers, strangers saying excuse me in the supermarket, or whatever- the usual reaction is a fast dismissal, and usually a rude one. "No, thank you" is rare, being ignored is far more common, a simple shake of the head or a raised hand signaling no is typical, and being basically yelled at for wasting someone's precious time is not unheard-of. So when we find ourselves in a position of apparent weakness, where we have to approach someone and ask a favor (even if it's just listening to something for a moment), we start thinking of all of those methods of rejection, and get discouraged.
Now, sometimes, you don't have a choice, and the favor or action still needs done, regardless of what the outcome may be. Some people let it show, whether in nervousness or belligerence, and some are more able to let it slide off their backs and approach each time as if it were the first. Clearly, I have fallen into the former category (though never with belligerence!) for most of my life. I'm thinking it's time to change that, though. Maybe see what approaching something with acceptance- regardless of the anticipated outcome- feels like. Who knows, it may let things work out for the better, and in the meantime, I won't be tying my stomach in knots.
For the longest time, I approached interviews as one would an interrogation: prepared to answer any question, and slightly suspicious of ulterior motives help by those in charge. It wasn't until I moved out to Colorado and went to an interview while tired and jet-lagged that I realized I was doing myself a disservice by approaching it thusly. In that interview, I just acted like myself, said what crossed my mind, and actually took one of the interviewers to task for asking insulting questions in a snide tone of voice. I was later informed that he did that to everyone, and only people who stood up to him and didn't take his crap were hired. I don't think that's a particularly great way to conduct an interview, but it helped me realize I needed to change my view.
This was reaffirmed when I was recently contacted by a company I had applied to in a technical support capacity called me back to offer a different job. The lady on the phone- who, I later learned, was one of the higher-ups- said that they'd filled that particular position, but they had another one open that they hadn't even posted yet, and my resume looked like a good match. She described what it would cover (which seemed like a sort of jack-of-all-trades, backup and support to all departments, among other things), and asked if I was interested. The entire time she was talking, however, she sounded just as nervous as I feel every time the phone rings when I'm job hunting.
In my case, I had attributed that nervousness to the presumption that someone in a position of power was judging my aptitude, and comparing it against an internal list of desired qualities. But then why would this lady, who already held a position of power, sound just as nervous when talking to an unemployed college graduate? To my way of thinking, it didn't make sense, so... I had to find another theory that would cover all the data. (Yes, I'm a dork; I love the scientific method.)
Perhaps a better theory to explain why people of all walks and stages of life are nervous when describing things to each other is this: society today, let's face it, is pretty rude. When people are hassled by something out of the norm- be it weather, panhandlers, strangers saying excuse me in the supermarket, or whatever- the usual reaction is a fast dismissal, and usually a rude one. "No, thank you" is rare, being ignored is far more common, a simple shake of the head or a raised hand signaling no is typical, and being basically yelled at for wasting someone's precious time is not unheard-of. So when we find ourselves in a position of apparent weakness, where we have to approach someone and ask a favor (even if it's just listening to something for a moment), we start thinking of all of those methods of rejection, and get discouraged.
Now, sometimes, you don't have a choice, and the favor or action still needs done, regardless of what the outcome may be. Some people let it show, whether in nervousness or belligerence, and some are more able to let it slide off their backs and approach each time as if it were the first. Clearly, I have fallen into the former category (though never with belligerence!) for most of my life. I'm thinking it's time to change that, though. Maybe see what approaching something with acceptance- regardless of the anticipated outcome- feels like. Who knows, it may let things work out for the better, and in the meantime, I won't be tying my stomach in knots.
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