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The Interview Challenge

Matt Melton

Still Looking for an Internship...

You've done it. You passed the Career Fair with flying colors. Well, at least the parts you tried to pass. You slid down the SRC stairs on your snowboard, introduced yourself as the greatest thing to happen to the world since Internet porn, and somehow still managed to get an interview. And now, it's time to match your Career Fair Challenge triumph with another terrible idea that I really want to see someone try: The Interview Challenge.

The interview is a completely different monster than the Career Fair. There are no second chances in the interview, no other employers six feet over looking for a piece of the Rose-Hulman pie. You've got once chance to pull your fast ones on unsuspecting companies and get out of there with a job. So put on your black socks, comb your hair, tuck in your shirt...or do none of those and enjoy the Interview Challenge!

Bronze Level

The Newbz0rs. These players are just joining in on the fun, and it shows. Re-using childish tricks from the Career Fair, they pull the usual clothing mistakes -- no belt, white sox, untucked shirt...you know, the basics. They'll probably add a few lies here or there for bonus points. Nothing big, just adding a tenth to their GPA, exaggerating their "management" position at Burger King in high school, or complimenting the interviewer on their amazing sense of style. The quicker these pansies kick off their training wheels, the better.

Students who should give this mundane challenge a try: People who are freaking out about not being stuck at home this summer, have a 2.0, or are allergic to excitement. Oh, and pretty much everyone at Rose at one time or another.

Silver Level

The Pr0z: Honing their mischievous interviewing ways, these up and coming rebels are making things interesting. Waltzing in wearing a pair of jeans, Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and carrying a Cuban cigar, the little white lies of last level are now full blown deceptions. Yes, you were your high school valedictorian in a class of 741. Sure, you're the great-nephew of Albert Einstein. And of course, you discovered the unified field theory. These professionals could sell ice to an Eskimo with their persuasive ways and that's why a job is in the bag despite the tom-foolery. Transition to the gold level begins when they get a job offer and an invite to the nearest bar for a drink.

Oh, and they drink on the company at the bar.

Interviewees who would stoop to this level: Ones that are planning on going to grad school, haven't heard of "blacklisted" before, really good poker players, and anyone who enjoys relaxing all day at home over the summer.

Gold Level

Teh E1337. Champions of the chit-chat, the elite members of this delightfully daring competition skip the usual talks for completely ridiculous results. Ever had a deep conversation during an interview that resulted in the interviewer having a religious conversion? That's just another day on the interrogation chair for these masters. They don't miraculously walk out of the room with just a job offer, no, they walk out with the interviewer's Starbucks in one hand and their beautiful daughters' phone numbers in the other. It's not about getting hired -- it's about life altering events in a thirty minute span with a job offer as a minor side effect. Convincing the companies owner to change the company name from his to yours isn't far-fetched here. These guys don't use clothing mistakes, oh no, they use clothing travesties. No tie? How about nothing but a tie. Then spend the interview describing your life as a nudist and how successful it's made you. And get hired. With a record signing bonus. And another addition to your made-up nudist colony. Priceless. Think it can't be done? Then maybe you should stick to silver, you who wants to be a "productive member of society."

Who contains the amazing power for this level? Students who lack any common sense whatsoever, know the interviewer has a really hot daughter, are James Bond, have a 4.1, or is badder than Samuel L. Jackson himself.