You Can Take It Sincerely
What an "interview" I messed up taught me.
In frivolity there is a lightness which can rise. But in seriousness is a gravity that falls, like a stone. —G. K. Chesterton
I had a call last week. It was a quick chat with a recruiter from the company I had applied to intern in.
I woke up and saw the invitation for the call scheduled in the afternoon. It was exhilarating, as the company has been one which I wish to spend my three months interning in. One that would likely end my Internship Hunt project by achieving its goal — "get a good internship".
I was thrilled. Yet beneath those feelings of joy and excitement, there lay nervousness. I told Tortilla that I had - for many times in the past - cherished something too much that I lost it as a result. Tortilla responded by ignoring me and continued doing his own cat thing. He probably thought I was being ironic and counterintuitive too.
But I remember back in A-Level (AS specifically), I prepared a lot for the Pure Mathematics 1 paper, which was easy, since I often scored well - sometimes 100% - in the mock exams.
I hoped it would turn out well. Yet within this hope lay the fear that things may not turn out well.
What if I messed it up?
What if I made careless mistakes?
Ironically, it was the fear that things may not turn up well that led to things not turning up well.
I had high expectations, and thus I got nervous. In the end, 61/75 for that paper.
A similar thing happened to the short call. I was hopeful that it would turn out well. And within this hope, yet again, lay the fear that things may not turn out well.
Even when I tried to calm myself down, even as I tried to retain a rational mind and prepare well (and talk to Tortilla the cat), I was still feeling insecure deep down.
When the call came, I messed up the first impression. It was a rookie mistake of a formal interaction where you were being passive and answered with short words that left the other side needing to carry the conversation.
I had a lot of wasted words. It was not really mumbling. It felt more like beating around the bushes with words to stall yet didn't answer the questions. I probably spoke louder than I needed to, too.
Most importantly, I likely misrepresented myself. There were things that I said that weren't entirely true. Not because I lied, and the content wasn't right. Rather, the content was right, but the way of presenting it made it sound as if I meant something else.
For instance, when I was asked to give a quick self-intro, I mentioned that I chose this course at university because of the scholarship. Although I followed up immediately by stating the actual intention - wanting to be in the community that drives real changes towards a sustainable future than merely advocating for it, I messed up. Because the way I said it - the order, the words, the intonation, etc. - it was as if I did it solely for the money.
Even though there was no restriction on the type of courses in the scholarship application. Even though I secured it because the interviewers back then liked the intention and were confident from the things I had done to back up that intention — to drive real changes than merely advocating.
That's one example.
I came out of the call feeling disappointed. I thought I had gotten over the phase. The phase of not being able to present myself coherently. I could give spontaneous presentations. Having many late-night talks with friends has improved and proven my articulation. Writing at Not Alone Club and journaling daily have strengthened and proven my articulation.
But I was wrong.
🌓 Expectation vs reality
"Was it your first phone interview?", Slothy asked.
Indeed. It was. I thought back to the first time I prepared for an interview. It was back in the days when I applied for universities. When a friend mentored me with mock interviews, I realized that I couldn't present myself well, too. I struggled to speak coherently. I couldn't answer "tell me about yourself" without stumbling and forgetting what I could talk about.
Back then, I thought the same. I thought listening to podcasts daily had given me the confidence and ability to speak well. But doing it actually? Disappointing. It made me realize that being coherent and articulative in informal, day-to-day life is different from being coherent and articulative in formal scenarios like an interview.
Simply put it, you can speak well to a close friend. But you probably never needed to answer "tell me about yourself" with a friend. Let alone in a formal setting.
Looking at these points, things became clear.
🙌 Don't be serious. Be sincere.
I remember the kind recruiter gave a warm piece of advice,
You don't need to take it seriously. It’s not an interview. It's just a small chit-chat session to get to know each other.
Indeed, she was right. I suppose she felt it, too, that somewhere during the call, I was taking it too seriously.
When drafting this story, I thought about the evidence that mistakenly taught me that I can speak and articulate well.
The spontaneous presentations.
Late-night talks/debates with friends.
Writing at Not Alone Club and journaling daily.
Some of them were informal. They had low to no stakes to worry about. However, some were consequential, like a university scholarship interview I went through before securing it.
Why did I do well in them?
What sets them apart?
To answer these questions, I went on the time machine once again to the second phase of A-Level (A2). There was a paper called Pure Mathematics 3 (P3). It was several times harder than Pure Mathematics 1 (P1) which I messed up with a 61/75.
But, in that harder paper, I scored 75/75.
Sure. I prepared well. But didn't I do the same (or even more) for P1?
Being in a Further Math group back then, surrounded by all the Math Gods, I saw my self-esteem plummeting many times. Math became a subject I feared because I couldn't be sure I was right when solving a problem. I couldn't understand as quickly as all the Math Gods did.
Still, I did well.
Because, as our boy Ali Abdaal put it, I took it sincerely. Be it the 75/75 paper or the scholarship interview, the stakes were high, yet I took them all sincerely.
No one wants to play Monopoly with someone who takes the game too seriously. We've all played those games; the serious person cares a little too much about winning, and they suck the energy out of the room. Their obsessive quoting from the rulebook regarding whether you're really allowed to collect £200 for passing GO via a Chance card gets in the way of everyone else's fun.
But neither do we want to play a game with someone who’s completely uncaring. Those people don't engage with the game, and don't make an active effort to play to the best of their ability. They don't congratulate you when you manage to get out of jail, even though you refused to pay the £50 exit fee and instead went for the bold, daring strategy of rolling a double. They're no fun either.
No, the most fun people to play games with are people who play sincerely. They take the game seriously enough to be fully engaged in the experience, but not so seriously that they become fixated on winning or losing. They're able to laugh and joke around, to make light of their mistakes, and to enjoy the company of their friends without becoming overly attached to winning (or the rules).
—Ali Abdaal, Feel Good Productivity
In the times when the stakes were high, yet I did well, I did not worry much. The worries were still there, yet I focused on the tasks at hand and the journey, rather than being engrossed with the result.
The funny thing is Ali's book gave a good example that hits home with every word.
If you were approaching a job interview sincerely rather than seriously, then instead of becoming overly nervous and stressed about the outcome, you might focus on being present and engaged. You might also try to connect with the interviewer on a more personal level, rather than simply trying to impress them with your credentials.
By doing so, you might be more likely to approach the interview with lightness and ease, and to come away from the interview feeling more confident and satisfied with your performance.
Had I chosen to do that, the short call would have come off as natural. Rather than saying words to score brownie points, it would be as natural as talking to a friend.
Honest, genuine, and sincere.
As if there was no fear. No worries. No stakes.
And when you can do that, the outcome takes care of itself.
—Thomas🦙
👋 Hey, you little stranger
Being on an unannounced break for a month now, I have begun to accept one thing.
Consistency isn’t about the streak, but the trajectory.
Some days are going to be bad. Sometimes weeks. Sometimes months. Life and work get in the way and *poof*, we must choose what to sacrifice to keep moving forward.
In the past month, I decided to let go of weekly publishing to make time elsewhere. And now, with finals coming up in late May, I wonder if I should keep this break going or get out of it.
Then again, to slightly modify James Clear’s words in Atomic Habits,
You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current
resultsstreak.
If I have a good story worth publishing, I put it up. Even if I only have one, and not enough to fulfill my dream of “write many in one go, and schedule the publishing in advance”, it’s okay.
Because consistency is less about getting a post up every Thursday. To me, now, it’s about ensuring I don’t abandon writing for too long that it becomes forever.
Let’s keep going! 🦦
🏆 Weekly gold
Each week, I share something I found interesting with you. It could be a song, a book, a quote, or a video that blew my mind. Here’s the gold this week 👇
🎁 Credits
Recruiter — for the kind advice and bearing with me.
Cover photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash.
Ali Abdaal — for writing Feel Good Productivity.
Slothy — for lending an ear.