A few years ago, I endured the Worst Interview Ever.
It had been three months since I delivered my premature baby girl. And three months since I got laid off from my supposed-to-be dream job. With the lovely mix of snow and ice that only true Midwesterners can appreciate, the weather was bad enough that schools were closed and roads were empty.
Except for me. Because I was not about to miss this interview.
After risking life and limb to drive to the office where my meeting was scheduled, I started things off on the absolute wrong foot by declining to shake the interviewer’s hand. I had a nasty cold, and I thought I was being considerate. He thought I was being rude.
I should’ve known then that this would not end well.