The Scariest Person in the Room Isn't the Job Interviewer

I returned from my 60-minute interview with strangers for a job I really want. I prepared for it like this:

• I printed out my samples based on the first interview.
  • Old behavior: I take everything I need to make a complete story from a recent relevant experience. Every detail. My brief is 2 inches thick and even I can't navigate it.
    
  • New behavior: I focused on the "exception" to the standard position description that makes this job different, and on 1-page photos or printouts that I did. Only those details. My brief is 6 pages thick and there's nothing to lose.
• I panicked over printer problems.
  • Old behavior: Abandon printout and leave super-early as I always do to arrive on time, even if the meteor has hit the planet on Main Street six blocks away and my car has a flat tire in a construction zone.
  • New behavior: Breathe, focus on the print job "one more time," remembering that they don't want to read the book, they want to hear the author.
• I arrive early anyway.
  • Old behavior: Sit in car and fret, going over and over the materials and the 20 Questions, which now seem infinite. Play with my experience flashcards. Talk them aloud. Get more stressed out that I can't tell story "perfectly."
    
  • New behavior: Sing scales. Sing flat deliberately. Turn on radio and karaoke to Queen, noticing that Freddie Mercury and I sing in the same key, as does Petula Clark.
• It's still too early.
  • Old behavior: Breath yoga.
  • New behavior: Pray aloud a spoken song of gratitude in the car.
    • I'm thankful to my God for bringing me in safety to this new day.
      
    • I'm grateful to have this opportunity.
    • I'm grateful I found a parking space.
      
    • I ask that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be in a right spirit.
    • I say I want to have empathy for the interviewers.
      
    • I thank God for His time.
  • Go out for a walk away from the building, taking a picture of the car so that I can find it again. Listen to other people crossing the parking lot and hear their feelings (new, new, never before used technique).

It's time.

I sign in and my interviewer from 48 hours ago escorts me to a conference room with two other people.

• Oh no...small talk...the ranking guy isn't here.
  • Old behavior: Seize the initiative and babble about the weather or the lobby artwork.
  • New behavior I didn't know I was going to do: Be still. When in doubt, look pleasant--all the advantages of smiling, and less energy consumption.
• My escort opens the meeting. While I'm answering the first question, one more person walks in.
  • Old behavior: Restart my answer to catch him up.
  • New behavior: Pause for greetings and ID, and don't start again until I cycle through freeze, fear, where-was-I, silent replay, and oh, that's what I want to say next. Nice variable: the room let me do it at my pace. Sometimes someone prompts me, which is well-meant but only restarts my cycle.
• I've sat down and another person walks into the room.
  • Old behavior: Stand up and nod greeting to acknowledge them.
  • New behavior: Stand up and nod greeting to acknowledge them. New is not necessarily better.
• Someone asks me a very long complex question with two parts.
  • Old behavior: Scribble the question as they talk and then answer it.
  • New behavior: Ask if it's OK to use the whiteboard and, on getting permission, writing on it the question's keywords. Draw stuff, talking all the while, glancing at the interviewer. (Oh, so nice not to stare into the eyes. I can look away whenever I need to.)
• Someone asks me what questions I have.
  • Weird shift happens: I ask them what question they have that they haven't had a chance to ask. I had no idea that was going to come out of my mouth. This is where the prayer made the difference! It came out smoothly, very fast, and crisply yet softly.I feel good, and I am not in control.

What happened next: My first interviewer smiled involuntarily and looked down at the table. The interviewers look shocked. A new kind of silence falls. The last person who came in asked me to define successful communications. The energy field of the room changes abruptly: there's an electric charge, light and fizzy.

I'm leaning against the wall, remembering not to cross my arms. And the magic happens: I drop into the question, swimming in the sea I know so well and yet which is different each time. And I am free to "turn without force into the deep element...because the sea is not a question of power." (Adrienne Rich, Diving Into the Wreck). My mask is my very own face, and it is pumping power.

"I've never been asked that before," I muse, and go into the thousand-yard stare. The experience of feeling in the parking lot is suddenly in my skin, is part of my skin. I can feel myself think, deeply, and I cannot remember what I say then, but the moment after I finish, the room is very silent and full, like a caught breath.

This is why I am "Aspergirl4hire" (A4H, for short). I have spiritual experiences in interviews, and theophanatic events at the wheel of my car, and if I were frightening, I would be the most frightening thing in the room. And when I am frightening, I don't get the job, and in truth, shouldn't get it.

I feel good, and I am not in control. We'll see what happens.