Ghosted by my soul

You ever notice that in a panel interview, there’s always one person — let’s call her Linda — who insists on sitting so close to the camera that you can see her pores, count her eyelashes, and possibly identify her last three meals?

Linda doesn’t just want to ask you questions. No. Linda wants to read your soul, analyze your deepest childhood fears, and possibly unlock a few suppressed memories you didn’t know you had.

Meanwhile, the other panelists are chilling in the background, cameras tilted up to the ceiling fan, occasionally unmuting to say, “Great answer,” before going back to online shopping or aggressively sipping their iced matcha.

But Linda? Linda is 0.3 millimeters from the camera lens, nodding in slow motion, eyes laser-focused like she’s about to announce whether your heart is pure enough to lift Thor’s hammer. She asks questions like, “Tell me about a time you redefined your entire existence during a budget meeting,” or “What’s your biggest strength, weakness, and reincarnated life form — all in one sentence?”

You start to answer, but halfway through you feel your soul physically trying to crawl out of your body and leave the Zoom call. By the end of question three, your soul is in the chat privately messaging you: “Good luck, I’m out. See you on the other side.”

And it doesn’t stop there. Linda loves follow-ups. You finish a story about leading a team through a crisis, and Linda says, “Interesting… can you go deeper? What did that teach you about the molecular structure of resilience?”

You’re trying to remember your resume bullet points, but Linda’s energy has you rethinking every life decision since kindergarten. Suddenly, you’re confessing that you still think about that one time in 4th grade when you forgot your lines in the school play.

Meanwhile, your camera-free soul is probably wandering around your living room, eating snacks, and filing a restraining order against Linda.

Then, after an hour of this cosmic soul excavation, Linda ends with that final gaze into your eyes — the one that makes you question if you’re interviewing for a job or about to be selected for an intergalactic mission to Mars. She smiles politely, says, “Thank you for your transparency,” and you’re left staring at your own reflection in the black Zoom screen, wondering what just happened and why you suddenly crave a long walk in the woods.

Look, all respect to Linda. She’s thorough, passionate, and probably an absolute legend at escape rooms. But there’s a fine line between “good interviewer” and “spiritual exorcist,” and Linda is tap dancing all over it.

To anyone facing a Linda next week: stay strong. Protect your soul. Maybe set up a safe word with yourself in advance. And remember: if your soul ghosts you mid-call, it probably just needed a break from all that intense eye contact.

Carry on, brave candidates. Carry on.