The Artizia Interview — or, How I Ended Up in the Middle of Nowhere
Yesterday I went to an interview with Artizia. Why I applied in the first place is still somewhat unclear to me, because I don't actually like their garments. But they are extremely popular, so I thought perhaps there must be something about current fashion I don't understand. Maybe popularity is a business model in itself. If everyone wants it, perhaps the company is growing — and perhaps there is a job in there for me.
So I was invited for an interview.
The first clue that this might be an unusual experience was the location. I had to drive to what felt like a remote industrial corner of New Westminster. And getting there took approximately the length of a minor European war. By the time I arrived, I was an hour late.
I walked in and was greeted by a young woman who looked at me with considerable suspicion and announced that she didn't have me on her list. Excuse me?
I had to produce the confirmation of my interview to prove that I had actually been invited. I must have said something firmly at that point because I really dislike being questioned about whether I am supposed to be somewhere when I have been explicitly invited there.
I mean, would I have driven for approximately half of eternity into the industrial wilderness of New Westminster for fun? Or was she thinking more like that I had driven into an industrial wasteland because I happened to see an interesting door and thought, Why not try my luck? Perhaps someone here is hiring.
Anyway, she agreed to interview me.
I took one look around and had a very strong feeling that I did not want to work there, regardless of how the interview went.
The young woman was tiny and dressed as if she were preparing for an evening event where the primary objective was to find a life partner, rather than spend eight hours in an office answering emails. Her long, perfectly constructed black hair looked almost architectural — like a very expensive wig that had been instructed not to move under any circumstances.
Fortunately, we were indoors, so I didn't have to test whether it could withstand the wind.
Then there was the office - enormous and strangely empty.
At this point my imagination started working overtime. Why was this enormous office so practically empty? Had I somehow been lured into an industrial building under false pretenses?
Was this actually a sophisticated kidnapping operation?
Then I reconsidered.
No, it was unlikely to be successful. If this was indeed a kidnapping attempt, I felt reasonably confident about my chances.
For one thing, I was considerably bigger and stronger than the little person sitting in front of me. I was also older and most importantly, judging by my hair, considerably less committed to structural integrity. My hair was moving freely. So I decided I was probably safe.
The interview itself was exactly what I expected. She was reading standard interview questions from her screen, and practically every answer I gave was met with:
“That's amazing!”
Amazing.
No matter what I said.
I was, of course, very flattered — while simultaneously laughing internally because I began to wonder whether I could answer, “I once accidentally killed my cat” or “I don't particularly like your clothes.”,” and still receive an enthusiastic, “Amazing!”
But I left it alone and continued.
At some point I asked her a few questions about the company and about her own experience. She told me it was a great company and that she had started in customer concierge, had been there for about five years, and was now conducting interviews herself. She hoped to be promoted eventually and wanted to keep learning and moving up.
And I thought: Well, good for you.
Meanwhile, I was sitting there thinking that I had already learned everything I needed to know.
I was quite happy when the interview ended and I could leave the building.
But now, the next day, I keep thinking about it.
What exactly was that? Because underneath the comedy there is something genuinely strange about the experience. Is everyone simply following a script while hoping nobody notices that nobody knows what is happening?
Are the people currently holding the positions, conducting the interviews and deciding who gets hired really operating in such an extraordinary state of confusion that someone like me — with decades of work experience, education, professional experience and an actual ability to think critically — is supposed to somehow fit into this world?
