Last night I reconnected with an ex. We were shy at first. We were aware that we had been re-entering each other’s orbits, but had been avoiding getting in touch. Our circles had been intersecting though mutual friends and former co-workers. We agreed we should talk or have dinner or something like that. I don’t know which ex or friends or co-workers because it was a dream and none of the people were terribly clear and the setting seemed to be an amalgamation of my childhood neighborhood and my neighborhood in Yardley. The catching up felt nice in the way reconnecting with long-lost friends can feel nice. There was a warmth to it that made me not want to wake up – or maybe that was the down comforter.
Last night, I also turned down a video screening for a job. I usually don’t turn things like that down, but the more I looked into it, the more I convinced myself that it might not be a great fit. The deciding factor was the format. They had wanted me to video record answers to two questions and submit them by midnight PST. I got as far as logging into the website and turning the camera on. As soon as I made a practice recording, I decided not to go through with it. I’m fine with zoom interviews. I’m fine with phone screens. There was something about just talking into the computer with nobody on the other end that didn’t feel right. It felt impersonal and awkward. I kept telling myself that I need to get more comfortable with these types of interviews. Ultimately, I decided, no I don’t.
This felt like an age thing. The organization focuses on eliminating hunger on college campuses. The entire staff seems young, or at least 10-15 years younger than I am. This was the first time I felt my age as a possible barrier to employment. I was uncomfortable with the format and method. I felt old school. It occurred to me that none of them would think twice about recording themselves for an interview. This is the selfie generation. They’ve spent countless hours taking pictures and videos of themselves. They don’t do phone calls, they do tik-tok and insta.
At first, I felt bad for ditching the screening. I felt like I was one of those hiring horror stories I hear about: “he just didn’t show up for his interview, who does that?” But then I reminded myself that it wasn’t a scheduled interview – that there was no commitment on the other end that I was violating. As I walked away from my computer, I resigned myself to being an elderly greeter at Walmart or one of those old men that young people coo over, ohhh, he’s such a cute old grandpa (hunched over my walker wearing a fuzzy yellow sweater with collared shirt underneath, dark brown slacks, orthopedic shoes, and liver spots on my balding head). Then I found myself coming up with the justifications for not doing the screening, none of which were terribly accurate or justifiable. I began telling myself, “If they can’t be bothered to have an in-person screening, grumble grumble grumble. Why, in my day…” I felt put out or put upon or… out of touch. I felt like that guy.
I was struggling to pinpoint my discomfort with the process. I don’t particularly like being on camera, but I’ve done countless video meetings and a half-dozen television commercials and interviews – so it wasn’t that. And as much as scheduling mutually agreeable times to talk can be a pain in the ass, there’s at least a sense of common commitment to the process. Maybe I just need an audience, a real, in-person audience, to perform?
I enjoy talking to people. I enjoy conversations. I also enjoy thinking through questions and discussing answers and issues. I’m told that I interview well. I seldom get nervous about interviews. I’m also told that I’m good at public speaking (though I do get nervous about that, especially if it’s a canned presentation – my ability to memorize is shit). The barrier, as best as I can tell, is one in which I take some prepared thoughts and translate them into speech in front of a camera. Something about the recording process short-circuits my ability to ad lib or just talk knowledgeably and freely. It happens every time. Once or twice, I’ve considered video blogging. I’ll pull out my phone, turn the camera on, and begin talking as though I were writing/narrating…. This is usually when I’m thinking that I’m going to travel the world and share all of my “interesting” stories with an adoring fan base. “And this spot over here (as I hop a fence with a very clearly marked Keep Out sign) this is the abandoned…” I seldom get past a sentence or two before the crushing awkwardness of the moment forces me to stop and promptly delete the video. I can’t possibly do this.
I suspect with some practice, I could get more comfortable with video selfies. At one point, despite the awkwardness of the moment, I was determined to go through with the screening because it would be good for me. I tried to have that “this is a good type discomfort” mindset. But in the end, being old and crotchety and not wanting to bend to the reality of a changing world got the best of me. And maybe that was the impetus of the dream. Reconnecting with people through real and authentic conversations seems to be in opposition to video recording yourself for complete strangers to view and judge for a job you only somewhat want. Going back to people who are familiar in the dreamlike setting of old hometowns seems to be a natural response to being forced out one’s comfort zone – a sort of finding one’s way home as a safe retreat from an unfamiliar, pixelated, and isolated world.