The Metaverse Interview That Sent Me Straight to HR Limbo

Let me tell you about the time I applied for a job that required me to do the interview inside the metaverse. Yes, the actual Meta Quest VR headset was required—because apparently, a résumé and Zoom just aren’t immersive enough anymore.

The job description said, “We value innovation.” I should’ve known then. That’s corporate code for “You’ll be doing strange things in strange ways and pretending it’s normal.”

So I borrow a Meta Quest from my cousin, who only uses it to sword fight medieval lizards while eating Hot Cheetos. I strap in, literally, and prepare to enter this brave new world of professional embarrassment.

I load into a virtual lobby. It looks like someone designed it using IKEA furniture, Sims logic, and a vague memory of what an office should look like. There’s soft jazz playing. Fake plants floating. A receptionist bot keeps glitching and repeating, “Thank you for your patience. You are valued.”

I’ve never felt less valued.

Then I see my avatar.

He’s… haunting.

Somewhere between an off-brand Bitmoji and a stressed-out Memoji that hasn’t slept in three days.

My eyebrows are in the wrong place.

My hands are permanently stuck in a “double thumbs up” position.

And my torso keeps spinning, slowly, like I’m possessed by the spirit of a malfunctioning office chair.

Enter: the recruiter.

Or at least, her avatar—just a floating head and arms wearing a virtual blazer with no legs. She drifts over like Casper if he had PTO and corporate KPIs.

“Hi Alex,” she says. “Welcome to our immersive hiring experience.”

Then my mic doesn’t work.

So I start waving like I’m guiding planes at the airport. I give a thumbs up (because again, that’s all my hands can do). I try to reset the mic, but instead I teleport into a fake ficus.

Finally I figure it out, but now my avatar is hovering two inches above the digital floor, like a budget messiah.

“Tell me about a time you demonstrated leadership,” she asks.

I try to gesture meaningfully—accidentally karate-chop my real-life coffee mug off the table.

CRASH.

Glass shatters. The dog starts barking. I yell “I’M FINE!” while my avatar calmly bobs in place like I’m having a spiritual awakening.

We keep going.

Then comes the “interactive presentation.”

She asks me to share a slide deck in the virtual space. I try. I really do. But I upload the wrong file and accidentally project a PowerPoint titled “Top 10 Signs You’re Being Ghosted by a Recruiter.”

She says, “That’s… not quite what we were expecting.”

I say, “But it’s still painfully relevant.”

She doesn’t laugh.

Not even a polite floating-head chuckle.

We end the interview with a virtual handshake—which, due to a tracking glitch, looks like I’m trying to high-five her spleen.

“Thanks for your time,” she says. “We’ll be in touch.”

Spoiler: they were never in touch.

But somewhere out there, in the digital metaverse ether, my avatar is still hovering in that lobby… giving double thumbs up, stuck inside a fake plant, waiting for someone to say, “You’re hired.”

And honestly? He deserves it.