Inside Higher Ed today features an opinion piece by a lecturer about the excruciating awkwardness of job interviews:
[T]he banal yet innocuous questions faculty members do ask -- "Where was I from?" "How did I get interested in this topic?" -- become loaded with a significance out of proportion to their actual content. Together, my answers formed me into a certain candidate shape, one which may or may not be the proper and notorious "fit" that search committees frequently resort to in making their final decision. And I realized that despite our hopes to be judged according to what we have done and not who we are, what really gets evaluated on campus visits is not primarily a candidate's skills but, rather, [...] a candidate's character. Has the candidate worked hard? Is she likable? Does she get along well with others? Can the candidate handle gracefully the at best inappropriate and at worst illegal question someone asks about her spouse and his or her career ambitions? Will the candidate hold her tongue in meetings with the insipid dean who is perversely proud of his lack of knowledge about the humanities? And while there is less fuss made about her drug history -- although that is changing -- how well will she get through dinner with only a glass of wine?
Having gone through this process myself six years ago, and more recently from the hiring side, I feel the author's pain, and then some. I'm not sure there's really any way to avoid the interview being a big carnival of stress, though, for a variety of reasons.
For one thing, as the author acknowledges later, the stakes are pretty high:
In many ways, of course, this emphasis on character is justified and even laudable. These are tenure-track jobs, which, if all goes as planned and tenure is granted, represent -- failing financial catastrophe -- an institution's lifetime commitment to that employee. As such, faculty members in a department, especially a small department, need to feel certain that they can live happily ever after with a candidate for the remainder of their career. No one wants to share their workplace with a drunk who wanders the halls and sneaks cigarettes in his office, a faculty member who sits in his office in boxer shorts eating spiral ham with his fingers, or a crank who circulates vituperative, paranoid e-mails to the rest of the department. As you probably guessed, I have not invented these colorfully un-collegial colleagues, but they are very much real.
It's not hard to find spectacular examples of academic hiring gone wrong, to the point of faculty members having restraining orders against one another. And less virulent craziness abounds. To the limited extent that you can screen this stuff out, it's very much in the department's interest to do so.
The bigger problem, though, is on the candidate's end. Having gone through this recently, I can tell you that when I'm making idle small talk during a one-on-one meeting with a candidate, there really isn't a hidden agenda-- I'm just making idle small talk.
I usually go into "campus visit" interviews (of which I've done too goddamn many) with a couple of questions about teaching and research, and that's pretty much all the material I have. I don't see much point in asking detailed technical questions about the candidate's research, because that's what the job talk is for (there's an obligatory hour-long seminar as part of most physics job interviews). And I don't see much point in talking in detail about theoretical pedagogy, because, again, I'm going to get a sense of the candidate's teaching ability from the job talk-- if they can take current research and present it in a way that makes sense to an undergrad, then they can teach any of our classes.
That doesn't leave a whole lot for the one-on-one interview. So, if there's something about the candidate's application that raises questions in my mind, I'll ask that, but when I start asking questions like "So, how about that local sports team?" it's because I've got nothing else. I usually end up offering to answer questions for the candidate (about the department, about the college, about the area), because I think there's too much one-way information flow in the interview process.
The problem, though, is that from the candidate's end, this looks like some sort of clever ploy to suss out their character. Because, well, it's a stressful process, and even conversations that really and truly are innocent become invested with vast significance. There's a Tenure Track Job (F/X: Heavenly choirs) riding on this, and you can't screw it up, because all of your schooling has built that up as the alpha and omega of academic existence. If you don't get the job, you're a failure, and everyone will laugh at you, so you can't show the slightest hint of uncertainty or weakness. At least, that's how it feels.
Again, this comes back to the weight that's placed on the Tenure Track Job. And as with the many other problems caused by the overemphasis on academic jobs, the ultimate solution is to reduce the stigma associated with leaving academia. If candidates approached these positions as just a job, rather than the Holy Grail balanced atop the Ark of the Covenant in King Solomon's Mines, the whole process would be easier for everyone.
Of course, I have absolutely no idea how to get there from here... But trust me, if you find yourself applying for a position in my department, and I ask "How about that local sports team?" it's ok to relax.
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Yeah, because regular job interviews are totally unfraught with stress, and never have way too much significance put on every idle question.
Also, you're being a bit disingenuous, because even idle questions aren't really off the clock. If he responded to your sports question with a disdainful sniff and "I don't really pay attention to sports; that's more for Neanderthals who need to get their fix of barely-concealed homoeroticism on a weekly basis," you'd think he was a total prick and write him off.
But I'm 100% sure that there are at least some people who really do think that and really would say that in a normal conversation. So they can't just relax into small talk, but have to make sure they're still presenting their candidate facade. You get to relax, because you don't care if they think you're a caveman looking for man-on-man action.
I have always handled job search interviews very similarly to ordinary seminar speaker visits. When the speaker/candidate comes to my lab for a one-on-one with me, I make idle chitchat for a few minutes to warm up, and then give an informal summary of the research programs in in my own lab. This includes showing slides on a second computer monitor I have in my office near where my visitor seats are. I don't just lecture, but try to get a conversation going about my work.
My experience in the biomedical sciences is that this is very typical, both for ordinary seminar speaker visits and for job candidates. And it is an outstanding way to tell if someone is likely to be a good colleague: Do they express interest in your research? Do they have a broad enough appreciation for the discipline to ask intelligent questions about it? Can they carry on a vibrant scientific discussion? Do they come up with an idea that you hadn't thought of before? Do they perceive the broader context and implications of your work?
If all of the members of a department who interview a candidate take this approach, and get answers to these questions, it provides highly predictive information about the candidates viability and fit with the department. It is vastly more effective than bullshitting about sports or asking people where they grew up and why they like science.
I've taught un- and under-employed scientists, engineers, managers, lawyers, and others in 2 years of volunteer work, as part of a job-training team, How to Win the Interview Game. I was on the panel of experts who'd grill the lab-rat, umm, client, for an hour, each giving written evaluations, and lending them the videotape of the whole session to review at home with the writings.
Oddly, my wife and I have not always won that game. Often, the game is rigged. But it's the only game in town.
I don't think interview is a "game", nor can it be won. It could be lost however, but my approach is to be yourself, project enthusiasm and professionalism.
With faculty and regular job interviews, the interviewers are often much more unprepared than candidates, which leads to a lot of pauses, exchanges along the lines of "well... we still have 15 minutes... Is there anything YOU want to ask me?".
Especially when you interview with someone outside your area of expertise.
Remind me once more never to go into academia, because what should be a joyful career path proves, once again, to have had all possible joy sucked out of it before it even starts.
Sheesh.
(And for the record, and in direct contradiction to Kozlowski, no, the rest of us don't really go into interviews in that fashion. I have, in fact, shrugged my way non-commitally and disinterestedly through the sports small-talk phase of the interview to no great detriment.)
"Remind me once more never to go into academia, because what should be a joyful career path proves, once again, to have had all possible joy sucked out of it before it even starts."
Actually, it is a joyful career path. And I actually greatly enjoyed the job interview process. The stress of not knowing whether or where you are going to get a position is tough, but the process itself--traveling around the country, talking about your work to interested audiences, meeting lots of great scientists, and going to fancy restaurants--was really fun.
And if you look upthread, the candidate interview technique I described is quite fun for both the candidate and the interviewer.
"I don't think interview is a 'game', nor can it be won. It could be lost..."
If it can be lost, and everybody in the application pool but you has lost, then you have won. They'll make you an offer.
You advocate honesty. As in poker, that's not always the optimum. Sure, tell the truth. But with style.
Always answer ANY question with a positive. Even if they ask for a negative, give a positive. Example:
Q: "You have shown us many excellent credentials, yet nobody's perfect. Please detail one of your worst faults."
A: "Well [look somewhat ashamed, use confessional voice] I set a very high standard for performance, and work as many hours as necessary to get the best results. Sometimes my subordinates complain that I make them do their work over, or check the calculations again, and they become resentful."
They think: "Aha! This applicant will crack the whip over those lazy postdocs and grad students, work extra long hours for no extra pay, and maybe have a better shot at winning grants that cover our administrative overhead."
If they ask:
"What salary were you expecting?"
Never name a number. If you name one too high, they'll think that you have unrealistic expectations, and are less likely to take you seriously. If you name one too low, they can give you a lower offer -- you just volunteered for a pay cut.
The proper answer:
"I'm sure that if there's a good match between my capabilities and your requirements, that you can make a reasonable offer, within your guidelines. Perhaps it's premature to discuss dollars and cents at this time, and perhaps I can ask you more about your black-hole access budget and reserves of superheavy elements in your inventory" or whatever. Save the money and benefits for the final round, ans still wait until they name a number first.
It IS a game. If you think otherwise, you concede the advantage to someone who may be less of a teacher than you, less of a rsearcher, but more of a spinmeister.
Supply and demand. Limited openings, too many applicants. They might do just as well to thrown darts at a board, or have you cut cards, high card becomes professor. But that's the way it is.
And the Head of HR with whom I volunteered those 2 years of "mock interviews" agreed 100%, as do most of my successful professor and chairman friends.