I'm hoping that people interviewing over flyback week will bring their comical stories back to Nuts & Boalts when the vacation is over. Maybe the following anecdote from OCIP 2005 will help prime the pump. To stave off some of the more predictable comments: I concede that this story (1) would have been more timely last month, and (2) is less funny than the ingenious work of Tucker Maxx:
I was interviewing at the Hotel Durant with the SF office of a national firm.
Their Palo Alto
office was interviewing across the hall.
One of my two interviewers was a young, attractive female associate.
About ten minutes into my interview, someone pounded on the door. I got up and opened it.
It was the Palo Alto
partner from across the hall.
He brushed past me and bounded up to the young associate, introducing himself and immediately launching into a speech about how she should come down to the Palo Alto office and spend some time with him.
Eventually he left, and my interview continued.
When it was done, I walked out of the room and headed for the stairs.
But I heard a loud voice, shouting “Hey YOU!”
I kept walking.
COME BACK HERE.”
So, still somewhat in my compliant interview mode, I turned back.
“COME IN HERE,” said the Palo Alto
partner from the room where he was interviewing.
The door was open, so I walked in.
“I wanna talk to you,” he said.
I realized, somewhat to my dismay, that there was another Boaltie in the room, trying to be interviewed by this guy.
“Well, I don’t want to intrude…,” I said.
“You’re not intruding; I told you to come in here,” replied the interviewer.
Then the phone rang.
“WAIT RIGHT THERE,” he said, and proceeded to take a call from his office.
I exchanged glances with the interviewee, who was sitting in the room’s only chair: a tiny, very low-to-the-ground easy-chair.
The interviewer continued to talk on the phone.
He began to talk about us.
“Guess who I’ve got in here right now,” he said to the person on the other end, “TWO BOALT STUDENTS.
One of them is. . . WHAT’S YOUR NAME, KID?”
The interviewee told him.
“And the other one is just standing here.”
Eventually the call ended.
“I WANT TO TELL YOU SOMETHING,” the guy said to me.
“I WANT TO GIVE YOU SOME ADVICE.
YOU WON’T GET THIS ADVICE ANYWHERE ELSE IN THIS BUILDING.”
At this point the guy started paging through a binder filled with resumes, as though looking for the exact formulation of the advice he wanted to give me.
“HERE IT IS,” he announced.
“DO NOT FUCK UP.
DON’T FUCK UP.
DON’T DO IT.
DON’T FUCK UP.”
I thanked him for the advice and left the room.