So yesterday I had my first proper interview experience. I have applied to a clinical mental health counseling program (M.S.), and I guess they need a look-see before they decide whether or not you’re qualified to give people life advice. I know, came as a shocker to me as well. The process consisted of two 45-minute interviews, lunch, a group critical thinking exercise, and a writing prompt. Six hours total.
I arrived slightly later than I had hoped to, because that’s just a bad habit of mine. I was still 5 minutes early, but that was not enough time to calm the rivers of nerves and anxiety flowing through me. It started with a “welcome” meeting, that had an assigned seat and an official folder filled with information on the program. My last name being Benetti, I was naturally the very first seat in the front row. The seat next to me was empty, and the one beside it was occupied by a girl who seemed even more anxious than I was. The rest of the room was filled with banter between future cohorts, having light hearted conversation and easings of inner tension. The noise washed over me as I sat there, staring at the folder and monogrammed pen sitting neatly on my table.
When I finally decided to pull out my notes, a professor (Dr. something or other) stood in front of us with the best of intentions and rattled of 15 names of people that would be involved in deciding our fate. While she spoke, my head was digging for the answers I had prepared for commonly asked interview questions. “Wait what are my strengths again?...”
Some 5 minutes later, we were brought to a seating area with tiny water bottles and a web of hallways filled with rooms occupying the people that would decide our fate. In the first interview, I was paired with a woman that is likely in her 40s, and has 2 other masters degrees. She has worked in schools counseling children, and proudly raised two artistic and accomplished kids of her own. I learned all about her experience via our co-interview. And all I could do was compare myself.
Our interviewer was a young woman with a blank stare. She held a list of questions and would simply make a check mark or keep her pen still after our responses. I had trouble remembering my scripted answers, and I was unable to improvise in my nervous state. I couldn’t read our young interviewer, and I couldn’t help but compare myself to this woman next to me, who has experienced 20 additional years of anecdotes to bring to her answers. Despite the many anecdotes from my motherly cohort, we still completed the interview with 20 minutes left in the allotted time.
This turned out to be a blessing in disguise because it gave me time to calm down before the following interrogation. I went back to the seated area with a generous offering of quarter sized water bottles to join others that were anxiously awaiting their first merit assessment. There wasn’t much room on the angular sofas, but there was a small table with toys surrounded by miniature chairs (I’d assume it’s where children play when they come to the clinic for counseling). So I cracked a joke, “I guess I’ll sit in one of these chairs because that’s about the size I’m feeling after that interview!” People laughed and scooted to offer me a seat beside them. We made some small talk about the program. I engaged with multiple groups in those 20 minutes, and made every single one of them giggle. Which is when I realized, I’m much better at speaking conversationally than I am scripted. My nerves were eased and I felt confident going into my next interview. Not only because I was feeling witty, but also because I realized that every person was feeling the same way as I. Comparison was pointless because deep down we were all struggling with the same issues, and we were all there for the same reason. To create a career where compassion, genuineness, and impact are valued.
My second interview was with a man, and I was the only other candidate in the room. I dropped my rehearsed answers and just spoke openly and honestly with what I hold in my heart to be true. It exceeded my expectations and lasted all 45 minutes of the allotted time. I was grateful to speak with him and felt that he appreciated my input.
My point is this, the worst of our fears lie in anticipation. People are often friendly when you give them the opportunity. And whatever the outcome of this process may be, I know I will be better equipped to reel in the next fish I bate.
I’ll keep you posted.
Until then,
Soph xo
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