Alex P.

Y’all… I had an interview. And not just any interview. This was the Super Bowl of corporate chaos.

It started with Karen the recruiter, who slid into my inbox like,

“Hey! We’re really excited about your experience!”
I believed her. Like a fool. Like a LinkedIn simp.
She schedules the call and shows up 9 minutes late sipping Starbucks like she wasn’t about to destroy my emotional stability.

She hits me with all the classics:

“What’s your greatest weakness?”
I say something corporate like, “I care too much about delivering excellence,”
when I really wanted to say, “Interviews. It’s interviews. I hate this.”

Anyway, I slay. Karen says,

“We’d love to move you to the next step.”
I get excited. I start pre-naming my future company laptop.
I’m emotionally decorating my future cubicle.

Then she says,

“It’s just a quick panel interview!”
Lies.
It was SEVEN people.
Seven.
Why was it giving jury duty? Why did I feel like I was pleading for custody of my own resumé?

I log in to Zoom. One dude’s camera is off. One woman is chewing gum like I stole from her. One guy’s lagging so hard I’m talking to a still image of him blinking for 90% of the time.
I’m answering questions left and right. I’m spinning STAR responses like I’m on Broadway.
Then… I notice something.
The VP. Is asleep.
Homeboy is leaned back, snoring softly, eyes closed like he’s listening to a guided meditation—not my passionate explanation of my leadership experience.

I look around like… is this a test? Am I being punk’d?
Someone types in the chat:

“Sorry, I think we lost him for a second.”
Nah girl, we didn’t lose him. He logged out of consciousness.

But I kept going. Because I’m built different.
Because I’ve done 46 interviews in the past month and I refuse to let a light snoring sound derail my dream.

They wrap it up with:

“We’ll be in touch!”
Karen disappears into the fog.
No reply. No “thanks.”
Just me, emotionally bruised, and the sound of that VP softly snoring echoing in my memory like a traumatic lullaby.

And you know what?
I still got back on LinkedIn the next day.
Because I’m a warrior.
Because I’m a corporate gladiator in a business casual hoodie.
Because I’m just out here, trying to get sponsored by a salary and some dental.