At This Point, I Think I’m Being Interviewed by Raccoons

I’ve reached that stage of the job search where I’m no longer entirely sure what’s real and what’s just LinkedIn-induced hallucination.

Because last week — and I say this with full awareness that I sound unwell — I spent an entire Zoom interview convinced the hiring panel was made up of raccoons.

Not metaphorical raccoons.

Literal raccoons. In business casual.

Let me back up.

It started weeks ago when I made a joke during an interview. Someone asked how I handle crisis, and I said, “Well, once a raccoon broke into my garage and I learned more about resourcefulness in that moment than I did in five years of management training.”

They laughed. I leaned into the bit.

Soon, raccoons became my go-to icebreaker, metaphor, and mild coping mechanism.

They represent the chaos. The unpredictability. The job search energy of digging through garbage, trying to find something valuable and not getting caught.

But then, something shifted.

During a very real, very professional Zoom interview, I looked at the panel — four serious, thoughtful professionals — and my brain went off script.

It whispered, “What if they’re all raccoons?”

And my imagination took over.

I could see one of them tilting their head while reviewing my résumé with tiny paws. Another adjusting their glasses and squeaking out, “Tell us about a time you overcame adversity.” A third pushing a bowl of grapes slightly out of frame like, “I’m totally paying attention.”

And I wish I could tell you I refocused and nailed the interview.

I didn’t.

I powered through, sure. But I also mentally visualized one of them knocking over a water glass with an inquisitive paw and darting out of frame in shame.

When the call ended, I said, “Thank you so much,” with the sincerity of someone being evaluated by sentient wildlife in blazers. And in my head, one of them saluted me with a tiny raccoon hat.

I did not get that job.

(Or maybe I did and the offer was intercepted by a squirrel. I can’t rule anything out.)

But here’s what I’ve learned from the raccoons, the interviews, and the slow unraveling of my LinkedIn composure:

Eventually, the job search wears down your filter.

You stop answering with perfectly polished responses and start telling the truth — sometimes too much of it.

You stop trying to be The Ideal Candidate™ and start showing up as yourself — weird, tired, a little hilarious, but fully human.

You realize that if someone can’t appreciate your humor, your metaphors, or the fact that your soul is being held together with iced coffee and Google Docs… then maybe they’re not your people.

There’s a freedom in reaching that point.

It’s not that you’ve stopped caring. You still want the job. You still want to do meaningful work.

But you’re no longer auditioning for a part in someone else’s version of your life.

You’re trying to find a team that wants you — raccoon jokes, occasional overshares, and all.

So if you’ve recently:

– Imagined your hiring panel was a woodland animal council

– Answered “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” with “Gainfully employed, ideally”

– Forgotten mid-interview what day it is or what you do

You’re not alone.

You’re in the messy middle.

The part where burnout and hope coexist.

The part where you’re still showing up, even when the room feels full of raccoons.

And honestly? That’s resilience.

Keep going.

Keep laughing.

And may your next interviewer have the heart of a human… but the patience of a raccoon who really wants to understand your transferable skills.