Karen, Chad, and the Rockstar Who Never Was

So I had an interview a while back—with Linda and Chad. Now, Linda had the energy of someone who’s read exactly one Brene Brown book and decided she’s spiritually licensed to coach trauma. She opened the Zoom with a radiant smile and said:

“Don’t worry—I’m a good Karen.”

Ma’am. That’s like saying “Don’t worry, I’m a friendly tax auditor.” The fear still lingers.

Chad, on the other hand, was chewing gum like it owed him child support. Every time Linda spoke, Chad would nod like he was either deeply moved or just trying to blow a bubble without popping an eardrum.

Linda kicked off with the classics:

• “Tell me about yourself.”

• “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

• “If you were a kitchen utensil, what would you be?”

(I said “spatula” because I’m flexible under pressure, can handle heat, and scrape the bottom when needed. She wrote something down. I still don’t know if that was good or bad.)

Now here’s the fun part—every few minutes, Linda would call me a rockstar. Not just once. Not even twice. It was like every time I completed a sentence.

Linda’s Greatest Hits:

• “Oh wow, Alex, that’s such a rockstar answer!”

• “Rockstar leadership style—love that.”

• “You’re giving me major rockstar vibes.”

At one point I half expected her to pull out a lighter and sway.

Meanwhile, Chad was now leaning so far back in his chair I thought he’d entered another dimension. He hadn’t asked a single question, but every now and then, he’d do a dramatic gum snap like punctuation to Linda’s TED Talk.

Midway through, Linda asked, “So, Alex, how do you handle high-pressure environments?”

Before I could answer, Chad—mouth full of Juicy Fruit—jumps in and says, “Yeah like…what would you do if a client totally freaked out and, like, threatened to take their business to Yelp?”

Ah yes. The corporate apocalypse: Yelp.

I answered diplomatically. “I’d de-escalate, listen, and offer solutions within policy.”

Chad stared for a moment, nodded, and mumbled, “Tight.”

Then Linda hit me with this gem:

“You just have such a rare energy, you know? Like a rockstar who actually shows up on time and responds to emails.”

Ma’am, is that… the bar?

We were wrapping up when she said, “I’m going to be honest, Alex… I think you’re overqualified for this role, but in a good way. Like, in a rockstar mentoring the band kind of way.”

And Chad chimed in with: “Yeah, like a dad who still shreds.”

…

I didn’t get the job.

They ghosted me—completely. Not even a “we went in another direction.” Just silence. Linda, the “good Karen,” vanished. Chad, the Gum Prophet, never blew another bubble in my presence.

Weeks later, I saw the job reposted… with an entry-level salary, but requiring “10+ years of experience, a master’s degree, and demonstrated leadership in crisis situations.”

I guess they were looking for a rockstar intern.

And you know what? I hope Linda’s still out there, calling people rockstars until the word loses all meaning. I hope Chad finally swallowed that gum. And I hope—wherever they are—they realize the best kitchen utensil is actually the one that knows when to walk away from the mess.

Cue the guitar solo. 🎸