So Tell Me What You Do Again?” — Zoom Interviews in 2025 Need Warning Labels

The other day, I had a Zoom call with a recruiter that should’ve come with a warning label. Or at least a seatbelt. Because from the moment the camera turned on, I knew I was in for a ride—straight into the land of red flags and professionally vague energy.

Red Flag #1: She was 14 minutes late.

Not dramatic. Not unforgivable. But when she popped up with zero acknowledgment and said, “Sorry, I was just wrapping another call,” I knew. I was the leftover meeting. The human version of a side salad someone forgot they ordered.

Red Flag #2: She hadn’t read my résumé.

I could tell because her first question was: “So tell me what you do again?” Which would’ve been fine… if my résumé wasn’t literally titled Resume_Alex_Please_Actually_Read_Me_This_Time.pdf.

I begin explaining my background. She cuts me off halfway to ask,

“How would you feel about a role that’s more junior than what you’re used to?”

Which is recruiter code for: We can’t pay you, but we’re hoping you’re desperate and emotionally malleable.

I smiled. You know the one. The kind of smile where your soul has already left the chat.

Then came the phrase that haunts job seekers everywhere:

“Culture fit is really important to us.”

Ah yes. Vibe. The least measurable, most weaponized term in modern hiring.

I asked, “Could you give an example of what that means?”

She laughed and said, “Just someone who’s fun but chill. Assertive but not intense. Confident but not too opinionated.”

So… a golden retriever in a blazer?

Red Flag #3:

She asked if I was “comfortable with change.”

I said yes.

She clarified: “Because there’s been a lot of turnover in this role.”

Translation: Everyone before you quit or spiritually combusted.

By the 20-minute mark, I wasn’t in an interview. I was in an emotional hostage situation with a fake plant background.

And then came the classic:

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

And before I could stop myself, I said,

“Somewhere with health insurance and coworkers who know my name.”

She blinked. I blinked.

We both knew this was going nowhere.

She thanked me for my time.

I thanked her for hers.

Then I closed my laptop, sighed, and did the universal post-Zoom ritual: stared at the ceiling wondering if I was losing my mind or just allergic to corporate nonsense.

But here’s the part that surprised me:

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t spiral.

I didn’t let it wreck my day.

Because once upon a time, a call like that would’ve made me question my entire worth.

Now? I just see it for what it was: confirmation.

I’m not a bad candidate.

I’m just dodging a bad fit.

And that’s growth.

So here’s to all of us sitting through awkward Zoom interviews with potato-quality audio and red flags waving like parade floats.

You’re not alone.

You’re not too much.

You’re not “not enough.”

You’re just trying to survive the job market in 2025 with your sanity, humor, and self-worth intact.

And if all else fails?

Turn off your camera.

Mute yourself.

And vibe… respectfully.