The job interview: bad theater with real consequences
Why do we keep participating in this farce? Candidate and interviewer act. They adapt. They judge. And then wonder why nothing fits.
Why do we keep taking part in this farce? Candidate and interviewer both act. They adapt. They judge each other. And then they wonder why nothing fits.
If we want to stop hiring people who don't fit, first we need to understand what's being performed in this space, and why so often nobody really fits.
This isn't just an interview
It's a selection ritual where authenticity gets sacrificed on the altar of a "fit" nobody dares to question. A choreography of implicit expectations, decorated answers, and strategic silences. An absurd theater.
In theory, the interview should help us find out if someone has what it takes: skills, attitude, compatibility with the team's culture. But what does that "cultural fit" we use so much as a filter actually mean? Isn't it an elegant way to perpetuate homogeneity and the status quo?
Interviews are loaded with nerves, fantasies, and performances. One wants to please, the other wants to keep control. Nobody is completely honest, even if it looks that way. And that's where the show begins. A show that might be close to ending.
Understanding this show is the first step. The next one, maybe, is asking ourselves whether this format still works, or whether it's time to imagine something different. To dismantle the farce.
What happens to the candidate (even if they don't say it)
Nobody shows up blank. The candidate brings fears, insecurities, and an urgency to be accepted. And the environment is designed to trigger all of it: an unfamiliar figure is going to evaluate them, there's a desired position on the line, and a lot of tension in the air.
Transference
The candidate projects past figures onto the interviewer (the demanding boss, the judging parent). And from there, they adapt their speech: exaggerating achievements, dodging topics, performing.
False Self
To face the fear of not belonging, an adapted version emerges to survive, and that version does the talking in the interview. They say what's expected, not what they feel.
People perform to fit in, not to show who they are. But if you hire the character and not the person, the conflict shows up later. Or worse: they adapt so well to the dysfunction that they end up reinforcing it.
Example:
Someone with experience starts speaking quietly, gets tangled up. It's not a lack of preparation, it's the fear of being rejected again. The interviewer needs to read between the lines. The truth is almost never in the perfect answer. It's in the gestures, in the pauses, in what isn't said. In the half-truths.
The interviewer performs too
You don't show up clean either. You bring your own ideas, your own history, and also your own character: the "objective" evaluator, the one who thinks they know how to read people.
But often you don't interview to understand, you interview to confirm. The narcissism of the evaluator role slips in. The interview becomes a way of reaffirming your intuition, your power, your place. An exercise in self-deception.
Are you really listening to the candidate, or are you trying to confirm you're right?
If you don't recognize your projections, you interview from bias. The power to judge leads you to confirm what you already believed. And to discard the talent that challenges your prejudices. Someone quiet makes you uncomfortable, but maybe that's exactly what your loud team needs.
It's not just about skills (or impossible ideals)
It's not about finding the most brilliant person. It's about seeing if they can enter a system with its own history, tensions, and style. A system that rarely dares to question itself.
The problem with "cultural fit" is that it's often used as an excuse to hire people who look like us. It translates into comfort: people who don't make waves, who don't question, who don't expose what's no longer working. A subtle form of discrimination.
We prefer someone who adapts to that chaos rather than someone who confronts it. That way we perpetuate the problem without ever naming it. That's why you need to see whether the candidate can bond without breaking… and whether they have the courage to question what doesn't work. Whether they dare to point out that the king has no clothes.
A guide to interviewing (and making the theater useful... or ending it)
We know the interview is theater. But it can be useful. For that:
Before interviewing: dismantle the stage
The interview starts long before the candidate walks in:
- •What does the team actually need? More of the same, or a shake-up that pushes it forward?
- •What tensions exist? Are we looking for someone who ignores them, or someone with the ability to transform them?
- •What kind of person can withstand (and grow) in this chaos? Someone who comes in to break the mold?
- •Are we ready to show what does not work? Are we willing to let the candidate question our "sacred" status quo?
Without this honest analysis, you can hire someone "perfect for the culture" and sink the team into mediocrity.
During the interview: break the script
Don't repeat the usual script. Instead, explore:
- What tasks drain you the most? What situations steal your energy?
- What kind of boss is difficult for you? Who do you clash with, and why?
- In what environment do you work best? Where do you feel truly like yourself?
- How have you resolved a conflict? How do you defend your ideas when nobody else does?
- Radical alternatives: why not ditch the prefab questions and go for simulated work scenarios instead? Or an open conversation about a real problem? These dynamics are windows into reality.
Don't interrogate. Open the space. Listen more than you talk. Be curious. Let it flow.
Take care of the atmosphere. Empathy isn't decoration, it's a diagnostic tool.
Let the candidate ask questions. What they ask matters too, and gives us the chance to be transparent.
After the interview: let go of the characters
Choosing also means letting go of fantasies. You're not going to find the perfect person. You're going to find someone who can build something real in an imperfect context. Carrying their own imperfections.
Bonds
Can they form healthy bonds, based on trust and respect?
Culture
Can they tolerate, improve, or transform this culture without losing themselves?
Authenticity
Will they be able to work without pretending? Or will they have to put on a mask every morning?
The interview is a conversation between peers, not a trial. Explore together whether you want to collaborate.
The final act: the end of the play?
If all this sounds exhausting, it's because it is. Interviewing, the way we do it today, drags along habits that no longer serve us. We keep performing an old script, hoping for new results. That's insane.
Maybe the future is not about polishing the perfect interview, but about dismantling it. About giving up on quick certainties and opening up more honest conversations. About building ways of meeting that recognize the complexity of being human. About embracing uncertainty.
The real deal:
Interviewing isn't judging. It's opening up a real space to see whether someone can enter a living network of relationships without breaking it… or breaking themselves.
If you're not willing to see that, you're not interviewing. You're staging a play nobody wants to watch anymore. A play that, hopefully, we'll soon stop performing. To make way for a new act. More human. And, above all, more effective.
