What's the worst possible mistake you can make at an interview?

texan2414

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I was wondering what's the worst possible mistake you can make at an interview... Share your feedback.

Is it:
- blanking out at a question.
- not answering a question.
- patronizing the interviewer.
- something else.


Best,
texan2414
 
Sep 24, 2015
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Patronizing the interviewer (or anyone at the interview)....you can recover from the other two, but an interviewer isn't going to vouch for you if you insult them.
 
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gonnif

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A side note: not treating the staff, such as the secretary or administrative assistant, with the same respect you would a full professor. I have seen/heard too many tales on this. Assume from the time you show up at the school until you are well off campus, you are ON! You could even take that further as I certainly know of 1 case where an applicant was on the flight in a small plane to get to rather small, out of the way school. Started complaining to the guy in the set next to him about out of the way school, not impressive, just going cause maybe if he gets in he might go, but really no desire to be there. He did this is a very nonprofessional manner shall we say. And yes, you can guess the rest. It was a professor from the school.

My point to all this, just be professional and courteous, even if being critical of something. They are not necessarily looking for some right answer but how you handle yourself, what traits do you have, etc.
 
Last edited:
Oct 8, 2013
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I was wondering what's the worst possible mistake you can make at an interview... Share your feedback.

Is it:
- blanking out at a question.
- not answering a question.
- patronizing the interviewer.
- something else.


Best,
texan2414

Texas IS? I love that Lonestar flag you got there. You'll be fine either way, some Texas school's gonna take you provided your credentials are okay.

I'm feeling bitter for being Texas IS (UT-Austin for undergrad and U of Houston for pharm school) but getting silent treatment from all Texas IS schools while getting 4 II's from OOS schools.....
 

Goro

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Being a babbling idiot
 
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goldy490

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A side note: not treating the staff, such as the secretary or administrative assistant, with the same respect you would a full professor. I have seen/heard too many tales on this. Assume from the time you show up at the school until you are well off campus, you are ON! You could even take that further as I certainly know of 1 case where an applicant was on the flight in a small to get to rather small school. Started complaining to the guy in the set next to him about out of the way school, not impressive, just going cause maybe if he gets in he might go, but really no desire to be there. He did this is a very nonprofessional manner shall we say. And yes, you can guess the rest. It was a professor from the school.

My point to all this, just be professional and courteous, even if being critical of something. They are not necessarily looking for some right answer but how you handle yourself, what traits do you have, etc.
This actually happened to me (but backwards)! Was sitting next to this scrappy looking, poorly dressed guy on a plane and we started talking. I told him how much I loved the school I was going to interview at and how badly I wanted to be a doctor. After I'd said all this, he casually dropped the bomb that he was a neurosurgeon who sat on the admissions committee. I totally could've been rude and disinterested, but being kind and courteous saved my butt!
 

musicalfeet

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Being a babbling idiot
Never really knew what a babbling idiot was until I had an interview that included other applicants interviewing at the same time. About half of them talked for way too long and didn't totally answer the question. Tried to stay engaged because I believe everyone has something important to share with the interviewer, but it was hard for my mind not to space out...never mind the interviewer. There were multiple interviewers with us, and they each took their turn and only had about 20 min to ask all their questions to all of us. It really sucked because I was often the last one called and by the time it got to me, they were already over their allotted time because the previous applicants talked for too long. Thankfully they let me talk though...

Slightly comforting to know that I may not be an amazing interviewer, but at least on that day, I was definitely not the worst one.
 

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Revealing that you don't speak french, can't play the guitar, and don't know where Namibia is.... after claiming in your primary that you speak fluent french, play the guitar on weekends, and went on a mission trip to Namibia.
 

Goro

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This has actually happened. We took pity on the kid (who came from out of town) and interviewed anyway. Don't remember the results though.

Showing up on the wrong day might be an issue.
 

GrapesofRath

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Out of all the things I've heard of at interviews can't think of anything worse than dropping/calling someone in a room a derogatory terms(think the word that starts with the letter N or C---yes I've heard stories of this happening)
 
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musicalfeet

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Insulting or patronizing the interviewer. Giving offensive or stupid answers like "I want to go into medicine to get a Ferrari and hot babes". Cutting off interviewers. Not interacting with the interviewer or being scripted, which will get you a rejection guaranteed. Being overly nervous, talking too much or not answering the question. Not taking responsibility or making excuses/blaming others for your own mistakes. Trash talking other schools. Not being yourself or being unenthusiastic about the school/medicine.


Finally, getting an interviewer who you don't click with or who doesn't get you and just writes assumptions about you based on that is pretty damn lethal. As is saying something that ends up being interpreted the wrong way. This means often times the most lethal "mistakes" may be totally out of your control.

Yes, this is a long list and not one mistake, but the point is the most lethal mistake is what can get you rejected, and any of these can.
Ugh Oh nooOo. During one of my interviews (at my top choice no less), I was talking about "why medicine?" and during one of my pauses, I think my interviewer thought I was done and started talking. We had one of those awkward "oops" moments. Had no idea what to do and felt like I accidentally cut him off =(. It was like an "oops! go on" moment, but I wonder if I should have just stopped answering the question or something...
 

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Here's the worst possible thing that can happen during your interview.

So you get to your interview. Big school. Fancy. Smart students. Lots of research dollars. You already got into your other top choice (Stanford) and you're just interviewing here for kicks and maybe to get some merit money thrown your way. Weather's great, upper 60s and sunny - a rarity in Boston in late October. You're a stud. You've been turning down top 10 interviews left and right, but you decided to give HMS a shot because why the hell not? Oh, and they paid for your travel and living expenses while on the interview too. Your uncle donated about 3 million big ones to the school a few years back since he's now got an 8 figure cash-only orthopedic spine practice out in LA, so you're on the VIP list, not even to mention your 526 MCAT and 4.0 GPA in astrophysical chemistry from Princeton, where you were the first freshman to publish 3 first author papers in Nature, Science, and NEJM - all in the same month (it was September). Everyone loves you - hell, Jeff Flier wrote your committee letter himself. You see a cute dental student as you're walking into the interview building. You give her a wink and she blushes uncontrollably and scurries away. You generally have this effect on women (and men, come to think of it), so you think nothing of it and keep moving. You enter the room with the other interviewees - you're the last one since you're always fashionably late - and not a single person's jaw doesn't drop. Is it your beautifully sculpted and chiseled face? Or can they see your Rhodes Scholar background in your rippling biceps as you move to take off your imported Armani suit jacket. Yeah, it's probably that, you decide. The attractive young secretary comes to sign you in and give you your interview packet, but she stops for a second as she looks up and sees you. You know instantly she's picturing you naked. After a moment she recovers and hands you the packet. You look inside. A note says you're interviewing with a Dr. Portman. Huh, okay. And it starts in 5 minutes. So you make your way to the interview room. As you do, an attendant offers you a glass of champagne. You down it before the door is fully open, but it doesn't dull your 165 IQ encased within 230 pounds of solid muscle on your 6'3 frame one bit. You see the interviewer. It's Natalie Portman. Hot damn. They must really want you here. You know this, of course. You've always known it. Who wouldn't? You sit your powerful body lightly down on the plush seat with a gentleness borne of years of Olympic gymnastics training. Natalie says she's impressed with your application. It's not every day they get applications from Colonels in the Air Force, let alone ones that were selected for astronaut training. You smile and make to respond, but suddenly, you notice something's wrong. A second year medical student bursts in, his scrubs covered in something that looks like dried blood. "He'-" and the student collapses in a heap, shaking and vomiting so violently he can't get another word out. Instantaneously, you pull out your concealed Desert Eagle. You're a Republican (but socially liberal) and a true American who staunchly supports the constitutional right to bear arms, so you never go anywhere without it. Looks like your freedom is about to pay off. A figure emerges from a doorway and sprints towards you, leaving behind a trail of blood as he does so. Calmly, methodically, you aim and put two shots right into his oral cavity, taking out his medulla and instantly dropping him to the floor - you weren't the best sniper in Delta Force for nothing. You look back to make sure Natalie is okay and are horrified to find the med student biting her arm and clawing viciously at her face. You quickly place a bullet in his abdominal aorta and rush to Natalie - but you're too late - she's been bitten. "I'm sorry" you say as you level your handgun at her and pull the trigger. You were the gatekeeper - you had to stop the spread if humanity to survive. Suddenly, another thought creeps into your mind. You slowly make your way back to the waiting room where the other interviewees were. They're all gone. Nothing remains except for tattered clothes and deep red stains that nearly completely obscure the crimson H embroidered into the velvety carpet. All is quiet. You release the breath you were holding, but the next second you wish you didn't, because what you didn't let go, the blow from the back forced out. You faceplant into the ground and your weapon flies from your grasp. A sharp pain erupts from your right shoulder. You use your unreasonably powerful leg muscles to kick whatever is sitting on your back off and quickly flip around to see what the hell is happening. It's the dean of admissions - but he's not looking so hot. He has several deep gashes down his neck and part of his left ear is missing. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth, staining his salt and pepper beard. You put a hand to your shoulder and find blood - you've been bitten. You only have a few minutes before you turn, so you scramble for your gun and check your ammunition. One bullet left. Good, that's all you'll need. You turn to face the snarling dean of admissions just as he charges again. But this time you're ready for him and roll with his tackle onto the ground. But he recovers and pounces upon you, pinning you to the ground. You trap him in a bear hug, but your weakened muscles can't push him off. "We haven't finished your interview" he growls as he looks at your face, his mouth frothing and bloody. "Why medicine?". Knowing you only have one choice left, you twist the gun in your hand so that it points straight into the back of his brain. You look him right in the eyes and say "why not". You pull the trigger, and everything goes white.
 

studentdocftw

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Here's the worst possible thing that can happen during your interview.

So you get to your interview. Big school. Fancy. Smart students. Lots of research dollars. You already got into your get applications from Colonels in the Air Force, let alone ones that were selected for astronaut training. You smile and make to respond, but suddenly, you notice something's wrong. A second year medical student bursts in, his scrubs covered in something that looks like dried blood. "He'-" and the student collapses in a heap, shaking and vomiting so violently he can't get another word out. Instantaneously, you pull out your concealed Desert Eagle. You're a Republican (but socially liberal) and a true American who staunchly supports the constitutional right to bear arms, so you never go anywhere without it. Looks like your freedom is about to pay off. A figure emerges from a doorway and sprints towards you, leaving behind a trail of blood as he does so. Calmly, methodically, you aim and put two shots right into his oral cavity, taking out his medulla and instantly dropping him to the floor - you weren't the best sniper in Delta Force for nothing. You look back to make sure Natalie is okay and are horrified to find the med student biting her arm and clawing viciously at her face. You quickly place a bullet in his abdominal aorta and rush to Natalie - but you're too late - she's been bitten. "I'm sorry" you say as you level your handgun at her and pull the trigger. You were the gatekeeper - you had to stop the spread if humanity to survive. Suddenly, another thought creeps into your mind. You slowly make your way back to the waiting room where the other interviewees were. They're all gone. Nothing remains except for tattered clothes and deep red stains that nearly completely obscure the crimson H embroidered into the velvety carpet. All is quiet. You release the breath you were holding, but the next second you wish you didn't, because what you didn't let go, the blow from the back forced out. You faceplant into the ground and your weapon flies from your grasp. A sharp pain erupts from your right shoulder. You use your unreasonably powerful leg muscles to kick whatever is sitting on your back off and quickly flip around to see what the hell is happening. It's the dean of admissions - but he's not looking so hot. He has several deep gashes down his neck and part of his left ear is missing. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth, staining his salt and pepper beard. You put a hand to your shoulder and find blood - you've been bitten. You only have a few minutes before you turn, so you scramble for your gun and check your ammunition. One bullet left. Good, that's all you'll need. You turn to face the snarling dean of admissions just as he charges again. But this time you're ready for him and roll with his tackle onto the ground. But he recovers and pounces upon you, pinning you to the ground. You trap him in a bear hug, but your weakened muscles can't push him off. "We haven't finished your interview" he growls as he looks at your face, his mouth frothing and bloody. "Why medicine?". Knowing you only have one choice left, you twist the gun in your hand so that it points straight into the back of his brain. You look him right in the eyes and say "why not". You pull the trigger, and everything goes white.
:boom::wow:
 

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Here's the worst possible thing that can happen during your interview.

So you get to your interview. Big school. Fancy. Smart students. Lots of research dollars. You already got into your other top choice (Stanford) and you're just interviewing here for kicks and maybe to get some merit money thrown your way. .......
Do you write fiction?
 
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Here's the worst possible thing that can happen during your interview.

So you get to your interview. Big school. Fancy. Smart students. Lots of research dollars. You already got into your other top choice (Stanford) and you're just interviewing here for kicks and maybe to get some merit money thrown your way. Weather's great, upper 60s and sunny - a rarity in Boston in late October. You're a stud. You've been turning down top 10 interviews left and right, but you decided to give HMS a shot because why the hell not? Oh, and they paid for your travel and living expenses while on the interview too. Your uncle donated about 3 million big ones to the school a few years back since he's now got an 8 figure cash-only orthopedic spine practice out in LA, so you're on the VIP list, not even to mention your 526 MCAT and 4.0 GPA in astrophysical chemistry from Princeton, where you were the first freshman to publish 3 first author papers in Nature, Science, and NEJM - all in the same month (it was September). Everyone loves you - hell, Jeff Flier wrote your committee letter himself. You see a cute dental student as you're walking into the interview building. You give her a wink and she blushes uncontrollably and scurries away. You generally have this effect on women (and men, come to think of it), so you think nothing of it and keep moving. You enter the room with the other interviewees - you're the last one since you're always fashionably late - and not a single person's jaw doesn't drop. Is it your beautifully sculpted and chiseled face? Or can they see your Rhodes Scholar background in your rippling biceps as you move to take off your imported Armani suit jacket. Yeah, it's probably that, you decide. The attractive young secretary comes to sign you in and give you your interview packet, but she stops for a second as she looks up and sees you. You know instantly she's picturing you naked. After a moment she recovers and hands you the packet. You look inside. A note says you're interviewing with a Dr. Portman. Huh, okay. And it starts in 5 minutes. So you make your way to the interview room. As you do, an attendant offers you a glass of champagne. You down it before the door is fully open, but it doesn't dull your 165 IQ encased within 230 pounds of solid muscle on your 6'3 frame one bit. You see the interviewer. It's Natalie Portman. Hot damn. They must really want you here. You know this, of course. You've always known it. Who wouldn't? You sit your powerful body lightly down on the plush seat with a gentleness borne of years of Olympic gymnastics training. Natalie says she's impressed with your application. It's not every day they get applications from Colonels in the Air Force, let alone ones that were selected for astronaut training. You smile and make to respond, but suddenly, you notice something's wrong. A second year medical student bursts in, his scrubs covered in something that looks like dried blood. "He'-" and the student collapses in a heap, shaking and vomiting so violently he can't get another word out. Instantaneously, you pull out your concealed Desert Eagle. You're a Republican (but socially liberal) and a true American who staunchly supports the constitutional right to bear arms, so you never go anywhere without it. Looks like your freedom is about to pay off. A figure emerges from a doorway and sprints towards you, leaving behind a trail of blood as he does so. Calmly, methodically, you aim and put two shots right into his oral cavity, taking out his medulla and instantly dropping him to the floor - you weren't the best sniper in Delta Force for nothing. You look back to make sure Natalie is okay and are horrified to find the med student biting her arm and clawing viciously at her face. You quickly place a bullet in his abdominal aorta and rush to Natalie - but you're too late - she's been bitten. "I'm sorry" you say as you level your handgun at her and pull the trigger. You were the gatekeeper - you had to stop the spread if humanity to survive. Suddenly, another thought creeps into your mind. You slowly make your way back to the waiting room where the other interviewees were. They're all gone. Nothing remains except for tattered clothes and deep red stains that nearly completely obscure the crimson H embroidered into the velvety carpet. All is quiet. You release the breath you were holding, but the next second you wish you didn't, because what you didn't let go, the blow from the back forced out. You faceplant into the ground and your weapon flies from your grasp. A sharp pain erupts from your right shoulder. You use your unreasonably powerful leg muscles to kick whatever is sitting on your back off and quickly flip around to see what the hell is happening. It's the dean of admissions - but he's not looking so hot. He has several deep gashes down his neck and part of his left ear is missing. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth, staining his salt and pepper beard. You put a hand to your shoulder and find blood - you've been bitten. You only have a few minutes before you turn, so you scramble for your gun and check your ammunition. One bullet left. Good, that's all you'll need. You turn to face the snarling dean of admissions just as he charges again. But this time you're ready for him and roll with his tackle onto the ground. But he recovers and pounces upon you, pinning you to the ground. You trap him in a bear hug, but your weakened muscles can't push him off. "We haven't finished your interview" he growls as he looks at your face, his mouth frothing and bloody. "Why medicine?". Knowing you only have one choice left, you twist the gun in your hand so that it points straight into the back of his brain. You look him right in the eyes and say "why not". You pull the trigger, and everything goes white.
You've thought about this once or twice
 
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Cotterpin

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Here's the worst possible thing that can happen during your interview.

So you get to your interview. Big school. Fancy. Smart students. Lots of research dollars. You already got into your other top choice (Stanford) and you're just interviewing here for kicks and maybe to get some merit money thrown your way. Weather's great, upper 60s and sunny - a rarity in Boston in late October. You're a stud. You've been turning down top 10 interviews left and right, but you decided to give HMS a shot because why the hell not? Oh, and they paid for your travel and living expenses while on the interview too. Your uncle donated about 3 million big ones to the school a few years back since he's now got an 8 figure cash-only orthopedic spine practice out in LA, so you're on the VIP list, not even to mention your 526 MCAT and 4.0 GPA in astrophysical chemistry from Princeton, where you were the first freshman to publish 3 first author papers in Nature, Science, and NEJM - all in the same month (it was September). Everyone loves you - hell, Jeff Flier wrote your committee letter himself. You see a cute dental student as you're walking into the interview building. You give her a wink and she blushes uncontrollably and scurries away. You generally have this effect on women (and men, come to think of it), so you think nothing of it and keep moving. You enter the room with the other interviewees - you're the last one since you're always fashionably late - and not a single person's jaw doesn't drop. Is it your beautifully sculpted and chiseled face? Or can they see your Rhodes Scholar background in your rippling biceps as you move to take off your imported Armani suit jacket. Yeah, it's probably that, you decide. The attractive young secretary comes to sign you in and give you your interview packet, but she stops for a second as she looks up and sees you. You know instantly she's picturing you naked. After a moment she recovers and hands you the packet. You look inside. A note says you're interviewing with a Dr. Portman. Huh, okay. And it starts in 5 minutes. So you make your way to the interview room. As you do, an attendant offers you a glass of champagne. You down it before the door is fully open, but it doesn't dull your 165 IQ encased within 230 pounds of solid muscle on your 6'3 frame one bit. You see the interviewer. It's Natalie Portman. Hot damn. They must really want you here. You know this, of course. You've always known it. Who wouldn't? You sit your powerful body lightly down on the plush seat with a gentleness borne of years of Olympic gymnastics training. Natalie says she's impressed with your application. It's not every day they get applications from Colonels in the Air Force, let alone ones that were selected for astronaut training. You smile and make to respond, but suddenly, you notice something's wrong. A second year medical student bursts in, his scrubs covered in something that looks like dried blood. "He'-" and the student collapses in a heap, shaking and vomiting so violently he can't get another word out. Instantaneously, you pull out your concealed Desert Eagle. You're a Republican (but socially liberal) and a true American who staunchly supports the constitutional right to bear arms, so you never go anywhere without it. Looks like your freedom is about to pay off. A figure emerges from a doorway and sprints towards you, leaving behind a trail of blood as he does so. Calmly, methodically, you aim and put two shots right into his oral cavity, taking out his medulla and instantly dropping him to the floor - you weren't the best sniper in Delta Force for nothing. You look back to make sure Natalie is okay and are horrified to find the med student biting her arm and clawing viciously at her face. You quickly place a bullet in his abdominal aorta and rush to Natalie - but you're too late - she's been bitten. "I'm sorry" you say as you level your handgun at her and pull the trigger. You were the gatekeeper - you had to stop the spread if humanity to survive. Suddenly, another thought creeps into your mind. You slowly make your way back to the waiting room where the other interviewees were. They're all gone. Nothing remains except for tattered clothes and deep red stains that nearly completely obscure the crimson H embroidered into the velvety carpet. All is quiet. You release the breath you were holding, but the next second you wish you didn't, because what you didn't let go, the blow from the back forced out. You faceplant into the ground and your weapon flies from your grasp. A sharp pain erupts from your right shoulder. You use your unreasonably powerful leg muscles to kick whatever is sitting on your back off and quickly flip around to see what the hell is happening. It's the dean of admissions - but he's not looking so hot. He has several deep gashes down his neck and part of his left ear is missing. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth, staining his salt and pepper beard. You put a hand to your shoulder and find blood - you've been bitten. You only have a few minutes before you turn, so you scramble for your gun and check your ammunition. One bullet left. Good, that's all you'll need. You turn to face the snarling dean of admissions just as he charges again. But this time you're ready for him and roll with his tackle onto the ground. But he recovers and pounces upon you, pinning you to the ground. You trap him in a bear hug, but your weakened muscles can't push him off. "We haven't finished your interview" he growls as he looks at your face, his mouth frothing and bloody. "Why medicine?". Knowing you only have one choice left, you twist the gun in your hand so that it points straight into the back of his brain. You look him right in the eyes and say "why not". You pull the trigger, and everything goes white.
Paragraphs, dude.
 

Goro

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I just lay my head down on my computer desk, helpless with laughter on this one!

Things that have actually happened: lighting up a cigarette in the interview.
Things that have not yet happened: lighting up a joint...
 

Dr. Death

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Feb 11, 2015
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Insulting or patronizing the interviewer. Giving offensive or stupid answers like "I want to go into medicine to get a Ferrari and hot babes". Cutting off interviewers. Not interacting with the interviewer or being scripted, which will get you a rejection guaranteed. Being overly nervous, talking too much or not answering the question. Not taking responsibility or making excuses/blaming others for your own mistakes. Trash talking other schools. Not being yourself or being unenthusiastic about the school/medicine.


Finally, getting an interviewer who you don't click with or who doesn't get you and just writes assumptions about you based on that is pretty damn lethal. As is saying something that ends up being interpreted the wrong way. This means often times the most lethal "mistakes" may be totally out of your control.

Yes, this is a long list and not one mistake, but the point is the most lethal mistake is what can get you rejected, and any of these can.
Lol I cut off my interviewer mid sentence to gush about how much I loved the school. I have no idea how I got that acceptance.
 

Cotterpin

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Things that have actually happened: lighting up a cigarette in the interview.
Things that have not yet happened: lighting up a joint...
How did this play out? Did (s)he give any kind of warning? Like saying, "Do you mind if I smoke?" And what did you do in response? Did you just bellow "GET OUT!" while flipping your desk over?
 
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Finally, getting an interviewer who you don't click with or who doesn't get you and just writes assumptions about you based on that is pretty damn lethal. As is saying something that ends up being interpreted the wrong way. This means often times the most lethal "mistakes" may be totally out of your control.

.
This is why I love MMIs
 

Lucca

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Here's the worst possible thing that can happen during your interview.

So you get to your interview. Big school. Fancy. Smart students. Lots of research dollars. You already got into your other top choice (Stanford) and you're just interviewing here for kicks and maybe to get some merit money thrown your way. Weather's great, upper 60s and sunny - a rarity in Boston in late October. You're a stud. You've been turning down top 10 interviews left and right, but you decided to give HMS a shot because why the hell not? Oh, and they paid for your travel and living expenses while on the interview too. Your uncle donated about 3 million big ones to the school a few years back since he's now got an 8 figure cash-only orthopedic spine practice out in LA, so you're on the VIP list, not even to mention your 526 MCAT and 4.0 GPA in astrophysical chemistry from Princeton, where you were the first freshman to publish 3 first author papers in Nature, Science, and NEJM - all in the same month (it was September). Everyone loves you - hell, Jeff Flier wrote your committee letter himself. You see a cute dental student as you're walking into the interview building. You give her a wink and she blushes uncontrollably and scurries away. You generally have this effect on women (and men, come to think of it), so you think nothing of it and keep moving. You enter the room with the other interviewees - you're the last one since you're always fashionably late - and not a single person's jaw doesn't drop. Is it your beautifully sculpted and chiseled face? Or can they see your Rhodes Scholar background in your rippling biceps as you move to take off your imported Armani suit jacket. Yeah, it's probably that, you decide. The attractive young secretary comes to sign you in and give you your interview packet, but she stops for a second as she looks up and sees you. You know instantly she's picturing you naked. After a moment she recovers and hands you the packet. You look inside. A note says you're interviewing with a Dr. Portman. Huh, okay. And it starts in 5 minutes. So you make your way to the interview room. As you do, an attendant offers you a glass of champagne. You down it before the door is fully open, but it doesn't dull your 165 IQ encased within 230 pounds of solid muscle on your 6'3 frame one bit. You see the interviewer. It's Natalie Portman. Hot damn. They must really want you here. You know this, of course. You've always known it. Who wouldn't? You sit your powerful body lightly down on the plush seat with a gentleness borne of years of Olympic gymnastics training. Natalie says she's impressed with your application. It's not every day they get applications from Colonels in the Air Force, let alone ones that were selected for astronaut training. You smile and make to respond, but suddenly, you notice something's wrong. A second year medical student bursts in, his scrubs covered in something that looks like dried blood. "He'-" and the student collapses in a heap, shaking and vomiting so violently he can't get another word out. Instantaneously, you pull out your concealed Desert Eagle. You're a Republican (but socially liberal) and a true American who staunchly supports the constitutional right to bear arms, so you never go anywhere without it. Looks like your freedom is about to pay off. A figure emerges from a doorway and sprints towards you, leaving behind a trail of blood as he does so. Calmly, methodically, you aim and put two shots right into his oral cavity, taking out his medulla and instantly dropping him to the floor - you weren't the best sniper in Delta Force for nothing. You look back to make sure Natalie is okay and are horrified to find the med student biting her arm and clawing viciously at her face. You quickly place a bullet in his abdominal aorta and rush to Natalie - but you're too late - she's been bitten. "I'm sorry" you say as you level your handgun at her and pull the trigger. You were the gatekeeper - you had to stop the spread if humanity to survive. Suddenly, another thought creeps into your mind. You slowly make your way back to the waiting room where the other interviewees were. They're all gone. Nothing remains except for tattered clothes and deep red stains that nearly completely obscure the crimson H embroidered into the velvety carpet. All is quiet. You release the breath you were holding, but the next second you wish you didn't, because what you didn't let go, the blow from the back forced out. You faceplant into the ground and your weapon flies from your grasp. A sharp pain erupts from your right shoulder. You use your unreasonably powerful leg muscles to kick whatever is sitting on your back off and quickly flip around to see what the hell is happening. It's the dean of admissions - but he's not looking so hot. He has several deep gashes down his neck and part of his left ear is missing. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth, staining his salt and pepper beard. You put a hand to your shoulder and find blood - you've been bitten. You only have a few minutes before you turn, so you scramble for your gun and check your ammunition. One bullet left. Good, that's all you'll need. You turn to face the snarling dean of admissions just as he charges again. But this time you're ready for him and roll with his tackle onto the ground. But he recovers and pounces upon you, pinning you to the ground. You trap him in a bear hug, but your weakened muscles can't push him off. "We haven't finished your interview" he growls as he looks at your face, his mouth frothing and bloody. "Why medicine?". Knowing you only have one choice left, you twist the gun in your hand so that it points straight into the back of his brain. You look him right in the eyes and say "why not". You pull the trigger, and everything goes white.
10/10, /thread, lets all go home
 

gyngyn

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How did this play out? Did (s)he give any kind of warning? Like saying, "Do you mind if I smoke?" And what did you do in response? Did you just bellow "GET OUT!" while flipping your desk over?
Pretty much.
"This is a tobacco-free campus...
 
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WedgeDawg

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Do you write fiction?
nah this is a true story

You've thought about this once or twice
It was sparked by an amusing conversation I had today

Paragraphs, dude.
Nah ruins the effect. Or maybe I'm just lazy.

Oh my Lord. I was so engrossed by @WedgeDawg's story that I forgot I had oil heating on the stove for popcorn. My entire suite was filled with smoke when I finally remembered :arghh:
:(

10/10, /thread, lets all go home
:)
 
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