Interview

You ever had an interview so wild you felt like a raccoon rummaging through someone’s trash at 3 a.m.? I have.

It started innocently enough: a promising job posting, a recruiter who described the company as “dynamic and fast-paced” (translation: pure chaos), and a hopeful email asking for my availability. I should’ve known then — “dynamic” is corporate code for “we haven’t figured anything out yet.”

I log onto the Zoom call bright and early, hair brushed, blazer on, sweatpants off-screen (obviously). The interviewer shows up 12 minutes late, holding what looked like an iced matcha and a feral expression.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I was mediating a Slack war over who stole someone’s desk plant.”

Great start.

She jumps right in. “Tell me about yourself, but make it fun. Don’t just list your resume.”

Fun? Ma’am, I barely survived the morning commute from my bed to the kitchen. But okay. I start telling my story — she interrupts halfway.

“What are your three biggest weaknesses, but in GIF form only?”

Excuse me? I suddenly felt like a raccoon caught in a flashlight beam, rummaging for answers that did not exist. I considered holding up a GIF of a dumpster fire, a sad violin, and a squirrel jumping into traffic — but figured she wasn’t ready for that level of honesty.

Next, she asks me to solve a “fun puzzle” on screen. It looked like a mix between Tetris, a calculus exam, and an alien language.

“Take your time,” she said, sipping her matcha aggressively. “But we do value speed here.”

At this point, I’m 40 minutes in, my self-esteem is on life support, and I’m questioning all my life choices. Then she asks, “If you were an animal, what animal would you be and why?”

Honestly? A raccoon. Resourceful, scrappy, loves snacks, thrives in the dark, and always looks a little bit guilty but somehow survives.

She nods thoughtfully, as if I’ve just revealed the secrets of the universe.

Finally, she asks if I have any questions. I ask about the company culture, because you’re supposed to, right? She leans in dramatically.

“We’re a family,” she whispers. “A family that moves fast and breaks things. We don’t believe in job titles. We believe in vibes.”

At that moment, I knew. I turned off the camera, took my snack, and scurried back into the night, like the raccoon I was born to be.

Days later, they emailed me: “We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates, but we love your energy.”

My energy? Lady, that was survival mode.

So to anyone out there prepping for interviews: pack your emotional snacks, sharpen your claws, and embrace your inner raccoon. Not every dumpster is worth rummaging through — and sometimes the best move is to tip the trash can over and run.

Stay scrappy, my friends.