HOW TO FAKE NORMAL

THE ART OF PRETENDING

I once read that 73% of people lie during job interviews. I didn’t fact-check it, but it felt true enough to quote while I was lying through mine.

“I’m a team player,” I said, even though I once threatened to staple a coworker’s tie to his desk.

“I thrive under pressure,” I added, while mentally calculating how long I could survive in this blazer before it became a sauna.

Carol, the HR specialist, nodded like she’d heard it all before. Probably because she had. I was the fourth candidate that morning, and judging by her twitching eye and empty coffee cup, she was one motivational quote away from quitting herself.

Her name tag said “Carol – HR Specialist,” but her expression said “Carol – I’ve seen things.” I liked her immediately.

“So,” she said, flipping through my resume like it was a menu she wasn’t planning to order from, “tell me about a time you overcame a challenge.”

I paused. Technically, I’d overcome the challenge of not strangling my last boss with a phone cord. But that felt like a story for drinks, not interviews.

“There was a project,” I began, vague enough to be safe. “Tight deadline. Limited resources. But I rallied the team, delegated tasks, and we delivered ahead of schedule.”

Carol raised an eyebrow. “What was the project?”

“Uh…” I glanced at the ceiling like the answer might be written in the tiles. “A…marketing campaign. For…eco-friendly dog shampoo.”

She blinked. “Eco-friendly dog shampoo?”

“Very niche,” I nodded. “But the dogs loved it.”

She scribbled something on her clipboard. I hoped it was “creative thinker” and not “possible hallucinations.”

The truth was, I didn’t want this job. I wanted the paycheck. I wanted the illusion of stability. I wanted to stop Googling “how to make soup from ketchup packets.”

But mostly, I wanted to feel like I wasn’t failing at adulthood.

Carol leaned back. “Do you have any questions for me?”

I had several. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?” “Do you validate parking?” “Is there a secret tunnel I can escape through if this goes badly?”

Instead, I smiled. “What’s the company culture like?”

She gave me a look that said, “You poor, sweet summer child.”

“It’s…collaborative,” she said. “Lots of meetings. Lots of emails. Occasional birthday cake.”

I nodded solemnly. “I respect cake.”

She didn’t laugh. I made a mental note: Carol is immune to charm.

The interview ended with a handshake that felt like a truce. I walked out of the building feeling like I’d just survived a mild interrogation. Outside, the sun was too bright, the pavement too hot, and my shoes too ambitious for walking.

I checked my phone. No missed calls. No texts. Just a notification from my bank app reminding me that I was dangerously close to overdrafting.

I sighed. “Adulting is a scam.”

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