arms and a heavy head and when he came in he had that vague limp that heavy men have. His teeth are not straight and his long nose droops down to laugh at them and his eyes are keen to be liked. On the floor beside his chair he places a flat leather satchel.
People always bring stuff to these interviews. They never need any of it.
The view through the glass is identical to yesterday: dismal. I sit now where Stuart sat, maybe because unconsciously I consider it the power chair. Consciously I consider it to be directly beneath a heating vent. The air has dried out my nostrils over the course of the day but I’ve found that relaxing.
‘Hugh…’ I have to focus on the surname on his CV. ‘Bre…tza…nitz.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Congratulations on making it to the last round. Not a lot of people get this far.’
‘Thank you very much.’ A squeaky voice, like that heavy head is crushing his voice box.
‘So…’ I press play on my pre-interview speech. ‘My name is Stan and I specialise in vetting job candidates. I’m tasked with researching your online history and identifying what, if anything, might compromise the firm in the future should they choose to employ you.’
Hugh Bretzanitz provides a conscientious smile and shuffles in his seat.
‘I take the view that, because so much of what a person does online they do anonymously, these activities are the best indication of what kind of employee they’ll be, what kind of loyalty they’ll show the firm. The reason I’m talking to you now is because if something comes out, and if the firm wants to know why you never owned up, you don’t get to say, Well crikey, mate, you never asked! ’
I like this performance bit. It helps to put the candidate at ease. But Hugh already seems at ease.
‘Yes, sir,’ he squeaks. ‘No problem. I’ve done ones like this before.’
Now I shuffle in my seat. Not because I’m nervous but because of the bruise on my arse, purple and marbled like a tattoo of Jupiter.
‘Then you understand that this is not a job interview. I don’t have any say in whether or not you get the position. My opinion doesn’t matter. All that matters is what I find. I pass that on to HR and that’s it.’
‘Yes, mate. I understand.’
One tiny reference to how my opinion doesn’t matter and he’s demoted me from sir to mate.
‘Is there anything you want to tell me at the outset? Anything I’m going to find when I look you up?’
‘No,’ he shakes his head, innocent. ‘No.’
‘Have you got a Facebook account?’
‘No.’
‘What about other online profiles?’
‘You mean…’
‘Twitter, Lucid, Freeball…’
‘No, nothing like that.’
Older candidates don’t represent the kind of risk to firms that younger ones do because they have a different approach to privacy, in that they’ve heard of it. But then, Hugh’s disadvantage is that a younger intern is more inclined to be a doormat for the first five years of their career. Firms are wary of older candidates who might have heard of that other thing…what you call it…self-respect.
I’m like, ‘What about pornography?’
Hugh smiles and lowers his head to look serious.
‘What about it?’
‘Have you ever been involved in the production of a pornographic photograph?’
‘God, no.’
‘A pornographic video.’
‘No.’
‘Of any kind.’
‘No.’
‘If you have then I’ll find out. If you’re straight with me your odds improve in the long run.’
Hugh has a confident smile.
‘How would you find out?’
‘Well, I think the most likely scenario is that you’ll tell me.’
‘But what if I said I wanted to keep it private?’
He’s still grinning, like he’s only testing me out.
‘I’d say you were naive. Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect your privacy. Because one day, when you’re leading a multi-million dollar lawsuit, there will be people out there who do what I do, and they won’t start with a discreet conversation like
People always bring stuff to these interviews. They never need any of it.
The view through the glass is identical to yesterday: dismal. I sit now where Stuart sat, maybe because unconsciously I consider it the power chair. Consciously I consider it to be directly beneath a heating vent. The air has dried out my nostrils over the course of the day but I’ve found that relaxing.
‘Hugh…’ I have to focus on the surname on his CV. ‘Bre…tza…nitz.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Congratulations on making it to the last round. Not a lot of people get this far.’
‘Thank you very much.’ A squeaky voice, like that heavy head is crushing his voice box.
‘So…’ I press play on my pre-interview speech. ‘My name is Stan and I specialise in vetting job candidates. I’m tasked with researching your online history and identifying what, if anything, might compromise the firm in the future should they choose to employ you.’
Hugh Bretzanitz provides a conscientious smile and shuffles in his seat.
‘I take the view that, because so much of what a person does online they do anonymously, these activities are the best indication of what kind of employee they’ll be, what kind of loyalty they’ll show the firm. The reason I’m talking to you now is because if something comes out, and if the firm wants to know why you never owned up, you don’t get to say, Well crikey, mate, you never asked! ’
I like this performance bit. It helps to put the candidate at ease. But Hugh already seems at ease.
‘Yes, sir,’ he squeaks. ‘No problem. I’ve done ones like this before.’
Now I shuffle in my seat. Not because I’m nervous but because of the bruise on my arse, purple and marbled like a tattoo of Jupiter.
‘Then you understand that this is not a job interview. I don’t have any say in whether or not you get the position. My opinion doesn’t matter. All that matters is what I find. I pass that on to HR and that’s it.’
‘Yes, mate. I understand.’
One tiny reference to how my opinion doesn’t matter and he’s demoted me from sir to mate.
‘Is there anything you want to tell me at the outset? Anything I’m going to find when I look you up?’
‘No,’ he shakes his head, innocent. ‘No.’
‘Have you got a Facebook account?’
‘No.’
‘What about other online profiles?’
‘You mean…’
‘Twitter, Lucid, Freeball…’
‘No, nothing like that.’
Older candidates don’t represent the kind of risk to firms that younger ones do because they have a different approach to privacy, in that they’ve heard of it. But then, Hugh’s disadvantage is that a younger intern is more inclined to be a doormat for the first five years of their career. Firms are wary of older candidates who might have heard of that other thing…what you call it…self-respect.
I’m like, ‘What about pornography?’
Hugh smiles and lowers his head to look serious.
‘What about it?’
‘Have you ever been involved in the production of a pornographic photograph?’
‘God, no.’
‘A pornographic video.’
‘No.’
‘Of any kind.’
‘No.’
‘If you have then I’ll find out. If you’re straight with me your odds improve in the long run.’
Hugh has a confident smile.
‘How would you find out?’
‘Well, I think the most likely scenario is that you’ll tell me.’
‘But what if I said I wanted to keep it private?’
He’s still grinning, like he’s only testing me out.
‘I’d say you were naive. Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect your privacy. Because one day, when you’re leading a multi-million dollar lawsuit, there will be people out there who do what I do, and they won’t start with a discreet conversation like
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