On leap day, considered unlucky by the superstitious, I applied for a job that I've wanted for more than a year. A multitude of things kept me from applying prior to leap day, but mostly it's because the positions they had available didn't work out for someone anchored to life in Charleston. I've applied for jobs at a number of nonprofit organizations over the last two years and received assorted means of polite rejections in response. Only one ever brought me to the first phase of an interview and that's where it started and ended. (Something I said?)
So I sent along my application, hopeful, but already resigned to a few weeks of waiting for a polite rejection letter. But the unthinkable happened. They replied the very next day (what?) with happy interest (in me?) and an invitation to the first round of the interview process (pardon?) at a time that suits me. If it wasn't an organization of compassionate animal advocates I'd have assumed it to be an April fools joke.
I scheduled phase one with the hiring manager and waited, queasy, all weekend. I would receive an email at 10:00 Monday morning, and have one hour to complete the task. This task assessment interview is what I was given by the one and only company that responded positively to a job application - the one that started and ended there. In that case, it was shockingly easy. I had one hour to organize project tasks into the order I would work on them and explain my reasoning. It was so easy, I became suspicious. It took about 15 minutes and since I had so much time left, I read through it again, confirmed that my answers were the perfect mixture of logical and superior, and then I hit submit and waited for my pats on the back. They politely rejected me the next day, which only served to increase my suspicions that it wasn't supposed to be so easy.
In any case, I waited for my new task assessment interview knowing that it would likely be quick and easy, and also that I didn't make it through this experience last time. All in all though, I was calm as I logged into my email and clicked the link. "You have one hour to answer the 3 following questions. Your work will be timestamped when we receive it. Good luck."
I read the first question. "A teacher asks for information about buying humane meat at her local grocery store. How do you respond?" This is an excellent tricky question- one that can be answered through many vantage points. Because I didn't know this organization's preferred vantage point, I skipped to the next question.
The next question was three individual questions (rapid fire, if you will) of factual data around the food system. It was the kind of factual data that the average food-system-educated person wouldn't know off the top of their head. I laughed when I read them. "Who would know this?" I asked out loud. I realized I was going to have to Google these questions... so I skipped to the next question.
I was getting nervous as I read the 3rd (6th) question. "A student's mother is struggling to get her family to participate in plant-based meals. She's ready to give up. How do you respond?" I laughed at this question too because it also has many lenses to look through. How was I supposed to know how hardcore vs reasonable this particular organization is if I haven't gotten to talk to anyone who works there yet? Shouldn't this come after at least a little meet n' greet? I let out a nervous laugh and looped back to the first question.
After reading through the questions the first time, I knew that I would need the whole hour and that I wasn't qualified to answer these questions. To summarize the experience, I'll tell you that I was audibly cackling as I frantically Googled "traditionally sustainable shrimping methods," told the teacher to shop local but beware, discovered how much red meat an American eats in a week, and told the exhausted mother to ease off the gas but Rome wasn't built in a day. (I didn't word it like that.)
I submitted my "work" with 1 minute and 20 seconds left on the clock. I closed my computer, laughed at not only the absurdity of someone knowing how to answer those questions but the absurdity of me, little ole me, throwing my hat in the ring with what I assumed would be much more well-informed applicants. I was embarrassed, amused, and stunned by the whole experience. I told some school peers about it and they all agreed that those are really tough questions. "I don't know the answer to that," my advisor told me. And if she doesn't know, no one does.
I shrugged off the idea of getting that job and later the next day, an email came in. "We're impressed with your answers. We'd like to invite you to the next stage of the interview process, "The Mock Lesson." Prepare to deliver a 10 minute section from the attached presentation. Schedule your lesson to be presented in the next 7 days." I clicked the attachment; a one hour interactive presentation on factory farming.
First I had to contend with my denial.
"I don't want to give them their own presentation!" I wailed to Brett, "I don't even know if I want the job. Why would they put a person through this kind of humiliation?"
"I'm sure they're just trying to weed people out."
"Yeah well, it's working. I'm not doing it!"
"But isn't this what you want to do?"
"Yeah."
"Well, this is how you get there."
"But I obviously don't know what I'm talking about. Why would they put me through this? If I could just talk to them first..."
A few days later I pulled up my pants and scheduled the mock lesson. I studied for days, nearly memorizing the whole section on plant-based diets and positive change. I was dreading this kind of embarrassment. It'd be like playing basketball with Michael Jordan after just throwing a few practice shots at your local playground. I prepared myself to the best of my ability. I knew the answer to each of the questions the presentation could elicit from a listener. I printed my notes, poured a glass of water, and logged in.
It was the hiring manager and one other person who works there. I tried to act pleasant and upbeat but I was so nervous my voice was coming out real low, like a child when they're being scolded for something. I wasn't given the opportunity to ask many questions but they were both sitting upright and dignified and speaking clearly like people in a professional environment would be. "Ok, so you go ahead and give the lesson. We will be the students and interact with you as you go."
"Ok."
"Whenever you're ready."
"So," I stared, "as you can see, switching to a plant-based diet benefits the environment in many ways." Upon hearing my voice, my "students" dropped their professional airs and slumped back in their seats. One of them propped his head up in his hand and the other let his mouth fall open, just a little bit. I giggled when I noticed but carried on with my spiel. "What do you think would happen if Americans stopped buying animal products from farms using cruel practices?"
I looked at my audience and waited... they gave me no response. "Do you think it would change the way our food is produced?" One of them pretend to be deep in thought.
"I don't know," the other offered, "Corporations just do what they want so... none of it really matters."
That wasn't the response I had prepared for, and it didn't answer my question. It stopped me in my tracks and it hadn't even been a full minute. I pressed my lips together and smiled. I had to pivot. "Yes, but do you think you have the ability to change what corporations do?"
"No," the other offered.
I laughed. I apologized. I started again. "Ok, well lets say Americans reduce the amount of animal products they are buying..."
"I have a question," one interrupted. I suppressed a giggle.
"Go ahead."
"Don't you think it's wrong for vegans to push their views on other people?"
This was NOT in the script they gave me. I was tickled by the change in their demeanors and the realization that the mock lesson is entirely about them kicking me off kilter and watching how I recover. It suddenly all made sense. I was so out of my depths - way too nervous about the interview to be flexible and present, and interactive with "inquisitive students." There was nothing for me to do except laugh. So I did. And my laughter made them laugh, and I asked to pause to lesson.
"Yes of course," the hiring manager said, sitting back upright.
I took the time to ask them a few questions about the vantage point or lens that the organization likes to work from. Are they actively pushing vegan values or is the focus on encouraging an understanding of the food system? Can I concede if a student points out a contradiction? How serious vs approachable do they want their representatives to be with students? These are questions I had anyways, but they were especially applicable if we were going to play school together for the next half hour. They answered my questions (with the exact answers I hoped they would (its a very reasonable organization)) and we resumed our roles. They slumped back down in their chairs.
"So..."
I'll fast forward and tell you that they continued to pull the rug out from under me every second sentence or so, and it made me laugh every time they outwitted me, which in turn made them laugh, and even though I never felt good about my performance, it did create a much more relaxed atmosphere where I paused several times to ask how they would respond to such a statement from a student. At the end, the hiring manager said, "How do you think you did?"
"You know," I told him, "I couldn't have done anything else to prepare myself for this and y'all completely outsmarted me. I'm stunned and I'm tickled."
"Why are you tickled?"
"I just didn't see this coming at all! I'm rarely caught off guard. I'm always so prepared. And I just tanked!"
"You actually did great," one of them said. They both laughed at me and sent me on through to the next round right there on the spot.
"Make it end!" I wailed to Brett, "I'm doing horribly!"
"You're doing great," he retorted.
"No, I think they've confused liking me with me being good at this."
For the third and final interview, I met with the director of things and he did a deep dive into my opinions and perspective on life. It was a two hour chat where he asked me about people I've worked with in the past, what I think my previous bosses would say I could do better, what I think about receiving feedback, and other kind of meta questions. I was still nervous for this one but I was also able to sneak in a little bit of personality, and watching the director suppress his smile really bolstered my confidence. There's not much to report on about this last interview except that when we first logged on he said, "I'm told your mock lesson was the giggliest one we've ever had."
I genuinely don't know why, but I got the job and started earlier this month.
The job itself, is to go into high school and college classes to talk to students about factory farming and our food system. I admire people that can do this (lead an audience, speak publicly about tough concepts) and have never looked at myself as someone who would or could. Once I've been around awhile and earned my keep, I'll be excited to ask them why they thought I'd be good at this... because at the moment, I'm excited but not convinced.
