When I left the interview I immediately called Val, blubbering like an idiot. “I ccccried in the interview, Val,” I said. “I ffffucking cried! I can’t believe I did that! I lost my chance!”
To which, she responded, “Wait a minute. Take a breath. Did you cry like this? Like you are crying right now?!”
“Well, no, not like this, but there were tears. I was, like, talking through tears. But you know how ridiculous I look when I cry, Val!” I sniffled and moaned. “It’s just, the last question was something like ‘Is there anything else we should know about you in regards to this position?’ And it all just piled up – everything: how much I want it, how good I am at teaching, how this is my one shot. And the tears just came. Holy shit, I just cried in an interview!!”
“Okay, okay. As long as you didn’t cry like this, we’re okay. It’s okay. Believe it or not, people like to see humanity, boo. You showed them you are human and that you are seriously committed to teaching.”
“Yeah but what hiring committee hires the girl who cried in the interview? I mean seriously.”
“I think you’re going to get it,” Val said. “And when you do, you’re going to be able to write a blog about how you cried in the interview!”
Well, it turns out that even in this hardened world full of competition and the notion that we all need to be tough as nails, there are some people who are compelled by humanity. Or who can at least see past the sniffling, teary-eyed face of the interviewee to the credentials and tenacity behind it.
If you are friends with me on Facebook, I’m sure you’ve by now seen that I accepted a full-time position teaching writing at a local community college. What you might not know about me if you only really know me through Facebook updates is how badly I have wanted a position like this since, well, ever since I can remember. And what you certainly haven’t known, until about 30 lines or so ago, is that I cried during the interview. That’s right.
The problem is, as aptly described on the “Confessions of a Community College Dean” blog, “Full-time teaching gigs in English are rare birds these days, requiring a daunting combination of talent, single-mindedness, and luck.” As you can imagine, competition is stiff for these positions. And so, it’s easy to understand the nerves piling up in addition to knowing that living in Central Maine, opportunities like this aren’t going to pop up often. For me, the anticipation that had built up while preparing for the interview, the emotions, and raw desire (along with knowing that I can do an exceptional job in the position) were too much to bear, and by the last question, I was screwed.
I can’t deny the fact that in regular everyday life I’m a crier. Ask my husband -- I cry often. Sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad, sometimes frustrated, sometimes sympathetic. The only common theme to the tears is that I can’t control them. When I’m feeling the emotion, the tears are going to come. Don’t get me wrong-- I want to control them. I’d love to say I am a strategic crier, using the tears to my benefit. But, I think even my husband will attest that there is nothing strategic about it. The tears usually catch me just as off guard as they catch him. And believe me, they caught me (and everyone else) off guard in that conference room.
So, this post isn’t to suggest that people should consider using tears strategically in their interview. As a matter of fact, I highly suggest that you don’t, if only for the fact that the rest of your day will be spent in agony as you replay every second. Do you think they still could see that I am qualified? Was I able to pull it together fast enough to recover the interview?
But it is to point out that, for those of us who are sometimes overwhelmed with an emotion or yearning, we don’t necessarily need to get down on ourselves. Unlike my answers to most of the other questions, there was nothing strategic or thought out about my tears. They came from such a genuine and well-intentioned place that I truly believe the committee was able to not only see beyond them, but to also see what those tears, and my recovery after them, said about me. Was I embarrassed? Of course I was! BEYOND embarrassed. I freaking cried in an interview! But I didn’t let that show because, though the actual tears were embarrassing, I was not at all embarrassed or ashamed of the impetus behind them. They came from my passion.
And so, this is the lesson for us all. Never try to be anything but what you are because people appreciate seeing the real you. They appreciate authenticity. And for that reason, I am able to hold my head up high as I pass by those on the hiring committee on the way to my new office.
