Three Interviews in One Week, and the Same Familiar Weight

Three Interviews in One Week, and the Same Familiar Weight

This week, I’ve had three interviews. Three different companies, three different sets of faces smiling politely across a table or from a small square on a video call. I walked into each one early—sometimes thirty minutes ahead—because I’d rather be the person waiting than the one who comes rushing in. I sit there quietly, rehearsing nothing, because there’s nothing to rehearse anymore.

I’m not nervous. Not because I’m confident, but because I know how the story ends. When the position comes down to me and someone with years of experience, the ending is already written. It’s a strange kind of peace, knowing you’re the underdog without the miraculous twist. There’s no adrenaline, no anxious tapping of the foot, just a quiet acceptance.

During the interviews, my answers come without pause. Ten seconds, maybe less, and I’ve said what I need to say. I’m honest—brutally so—because even if I crafted the perfect, polished response, my odds wouldn’t shift. Why waste energy dressing up the truth when the truth will do just fine in the rejection email?

What I want—what I’ve wanted for a long time—is a remote job. Something that lets me sit at a desk with my own keyboard, my own silence, and the space to think without someone hovering over my shoulder or interruptions breaking my focus. I know that when I’m left alone with a problem, I can work it apart piece by piece until it’s solved. That’s when I’m at my best—not in a fluorescent-lit room, not sitting across from someone measuring me against a list of “minimum requirements” I’ve never had the chance to earn.

Maybe next week there will be another interview. Maybe not. But for now, I keep showing up early, answering honestly, and leaving with the same quiet thought: my potential isn’t the problem. The stage just hasn’t been the right one yet.