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Faces of Prejudice
I've been a software engineer now for over six years. Believe it or not, at my company, that's being an old timer. For a little while, I was even a lead (supervisor). I'm not anymore though; thank goodness. Not that I have anything against leads, but I just didn't think it was a good fit for me.

During the past years, I have had the dubious honor of interviewing a fairly large number of candidates. Although initially I enjoyed interviewing people, I have since developed a distinct dislike for it for a number of reasons. First, it is time consuming; you have to take time out of your workday. Second, I never really liked the idea of having to judge someone based on having spent an hour with him/her. Third, having been exposed to so much prejudice while growing up, I was trying to be particularly careful to avoid any kind of prejudice.

Actually, the company is very good about educating us on what not to ask. Well, the obvious ones are race, gender, religion, and nationality. The more subtle ones are age and marital status. Yet I've always prided myself on being fair.

A handful of them have eventually come back to tell me that I was their toughest interviewer. I prided myself on that. I knew that candidates coming in would be prepared for questions, but I always asked off the wall questions that required them to think. "Think quickly on your feet!" I always thought. If they broke they wouldn't have cut it here anyway. As tough as I was, the interview was always based on their skill and nothing else… Or so I thought.

I remember a candidate from a number of years ago that had performed well. I fired off questions and he thought about them, asked some questions some were on the right track, some were not. All in all, he had done well. I have him a thumbs up. I was his first interviewer. As I studied the feedback from the remaining interviews, I noticed that he had not done as well and realized what had happened. I spooked him, plain and simple. I had distressed him enough while interviewing him that he was shaken for the remaining interviews. I suppose I could rationalize that he would've broken under the pressure here at work, but I don't think that was true. I hate interviewing; it makes me feel like a bully.



And then there was the interview. I arrived to work that morning, all I knew about the candidate was the name. I didn't even know the gender for sure; it was an Asian name. I assumed the candidate was male; statistically most engineering candidates are male. I had enough work to do that day but made sure that I looked through the résumé. He came from an Ivy League school, had a good grade point average. He had a couple of key college jobs. What struck me most is that he listed his interests. It was obvious that he wasn't an FOB (Fresh of the Boat), if he wasn't born here he was raised here in America. And moreover, his hobbies are ones that would not be condoned by traditional Asian folk. He was a rebel. After taking a couple of more looks at the résumé, I put it aside. The interview would not be until late afternoon.

I continued about my work, wondering in the back of my mind what this person would be like. By afternoon, it was finally time for the interview. I got a call from the receptionist telling me that the candidate was waiting in the lobby. I walk to the lobby and pick him up. On the way to my office we chat and he mentions that he knows he missed some of his earlier interview questions. My first thought is that maybe someone spooked him just like I had done to another candidate just a few years ago. I offer him a drink and then we get to my office.

Somewhere during the last two years my interviewing intensity had toned down. [Yeah, I know... I'm a wuss!] I asked him a little about the projects that he did and some of his college jobs. I then start the technical questions. I start him off easy, seeing how quickly he answers the "gimme" questions. I then proceed to harder and tougher questions with more traps. All the while, I was thinking to myself, "Please... be better than this. Give me a reason to recommend you for a hire." I suppose it was about halfway through the interview when I finally realized that he wasn't good enough. At this point, going through the remainder of the interview is just out of politeness. I walk him down to the lobby and arrange for a ride for him back to human resources. I then get a chance to talk to him a little more. Eventually, I see him off and go back to my office. I gave him a thumbs down. I hate interviewing.



Later that evening I'm talking to George [Okay, technically his real name is Robert; I just call him George]. I told him about all the conflicts I had with giving this candidate the shaft. He seemed surprised. He goes on to say that he thought that Asian folk always give other Asian folk preferential treatment. Not to say that I was fuming, but I was a little pissed off. It is not enough that I'm being troubled by this interview for doing the right thing, I have to put up with the implication of being a racist because I'm Chinese. I'll admit that I wanted him to perform well, but didn't cave in. I rationalized that I would be doing a graver injustice to both him and to the company if I gave him the recommendation. I had cleared my conscience. Geez, I hate interviewing.



It took some time for me to understand precisely what went on. It was days if not weeks. In a sense, both George and I were right and in a sense we were both wrong. You see, when it came to that candidate, I was biased. I admit it. It may have affected my decision. Now, don't go twisting that into some kind of delusional racial self-hatred complex. I don't hate the fact that I'm Chinese, in fact, there are parts of it that I embrace.

The simple truth is that I was slanted (no pun intended), but it had nothing to do with race. In fact it had nothing to do with nationality, nor age, nor gender, nor anything that you might imagine. It simply had to do with me. You see, for the first time, I actually identified with the candidate. This meant that I projected my expectations I set for myself onto him. I wasn't judging him on how I thought he should perform as a candidate. I was judging him on how I thought I should perform as a candidate, and that's a pretty steep climb.

It's funny, we try to rise above our prejudice. We reason that we are not competing against a race, gender, or nationality, but instead we strive to become better individuals. Isn't it ironic that comes back to bite us?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that he would not have gotten hired anyway. He simply didn't have the skills. It still didn't feel particularly warm and cozy giving him a thumbs down. Did I mention that I hate interviewing?

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CopyrightJanuary 26, 1998


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