I began my job search with a simple premise: I needed change. I was at my first job out of college still, laboring long hours as a financial analyst. It was a good run. But, alas, all good things must come to an end. I was sick of the company culture, and the boundless greed and self-serving I saw at every turn. There had to be more healthy ways to grow my career.

And so I got back together with Glassdoor, Indeed, and CareerBuilder, scrolling past countless scam and junk positions, applying to many others, all while inadvertently signing myself up for endless spam emails and phone calls.

One employer, who we'll call Avion, called me to come do an interview. They were a huge player in online education. They partnered with top universities, enabling them to host lecture videos and interactive coursework for students. It was a massive operation. I was excited about the potential of entering this industry.

They needed an analyst to audit their processes and ensure they were making enough money through their programs. It was becoming increasingly cumbersome and personnel intensive, which didn't make sense for a business that wanted to make actual money.

I arrived fully glammed out in a sharp, fitted suit. I spent excessive time in the mirror, neurotically checking every fiber for wrinkles, looking for small dots of any kind on my white shirt. I quadruple checked my resumes for any minor imperfections. I felt like 007 that day. Everything was tight and perfect.

As I walked through the gravel parking lot, I saw clusters of mostly-young employees coming and going from the tall obsidian office building. The lunch hour was upon us. The atmosphere was full of youthful, lively energy. I loved it.

A giant steel framed door opened automatically as I climbed its adjoining steps, revealing a nice, but very corporate office behind it. There were high ceilings, grey carpets, and abstract paintings on the walls. A giant white banner flew above the secretary's desk, reading, "The Avion Advantage".

I walked up and said, "Hello, I'm here for my scheduled interview at 12:15. My name is Sean Kernan."

The young blonde woman looked up at me and asked, "Do you have your application?"

I was a bit confused, and said, "I am sorry. I was not aware I needed to fill one out, as I filled one out online?"

Boy oh boy, you should have seen her face twist in annoyance, turning her into a gremlin for a brief moment. It felt like a total record scratch moment that killed the entire good vibe. She let out a deep sigh, then printed out the application under her desk and handed me one, giving off plenty of attitude with her body language. I sat down and began filling out the same mundane information I'd already filled out online.

This was such a glaring redundancy in the interview process. It didn't bode well for their culture, or the efficiency of their systems. Anytime I saw flaws in basic processes like this, it meant there was far deeper troubles within. Heck, it was the first time I'd filled out a paper application in years.

After I finished it and handed it back to her, I sat down in a comfortable guest chair. Then briefly meditated on the thought, "Alright, Sean. Let's just reset. I'm here to be open minded to explore this opportunity. Right? Right."

A few minutes later, another woman came out. She was slightly older and carrying a big brown clipboard, with this authoritative school principal demeanor. She walked over and sat directly across from me without introducing herself.

"I noticed you did not fill out your salary information. How much do you make per year at your current job?" She asked, assertively.

This was an awkward conversation to be having in the lobby, in close proximity to two other people waiting within earshot.

I said, "I'd be happy to discuss that in the event of a job offer. I left the section blank intentionally." In business school, I learned to hold off on sharing salary information as much as possible.

She doubled down and pressed me again for my salary. I noticed one of the other guests was staring at me now. It made me squirm in my seat. I politely iterated, "I would be happy to discuss my salary at the appropriate time and if there is a potential job offer."

"So why not list it here now so that we don't have to later?" She said, leaving me quite, quite surprised that she wasn't taking the hint. I repeated what I said prior, but did so with a huge smile that intentionally over communicated, "I am not sharing this information with you."

Without saying anything, she stood up and left and I still didn't know her name. At that point, I knew that if the hiring manager and her had a conversation about me  --  it wouldn't convey me in a positive light. But so be it.

I'd been on many interviews at this point in my life, but none quite like this. First impressions were a foreign concept at this office.

"Sean?" The secretary called out.

I looked up, and she waved me o ver and began walking me to my interview room. She sat me down in a 10 foot by 10 foot room with a table in the middle and chairs on opposing sides. I waited for a full 20 minutes before my interviewer showed up.

A brown-haired, 40-ish year old man in a business casual outfit walked in and said, "Sorry about the delay. I was waiting for you in another room. I think we had a miscommunication internally on where we'd be talking."

I stood up and shook his hand, "No problem at all! I am glad we could finally meet."

The first ten minutes of the interview were fairly vanilla and easy. I went through my qualifications, why I was looking for a job, and your typical line of questioning, including "What's your greatest weakness?"

Then, he asked what would seem like a routine question, "What would you do if you had a problem you couldn't solve on your own?"

And I gave a straightforward answer about troubleshooting, and then finding the appropriate subject matter expert. Then, he asked the exact same question using different wording, and circled back to this same question several times before the end of the interview. It was alarming and I was running out of creative ways to answer the same question differently.

Above all  --  it was painfully obvious that whoever held this position prior to me had been high maintenance. The man in front of me was clearly conveying some annoyance with that person still. It didn't give me a good vibe in any way of him as my prospective boss.

Incredibly, I was given a job offer after this interview. I politely declined and refrained from giving details on why. It would have required an essay and I didn't have the time, or desire, to write.

The signs of dysfunction were littered everywhere. Their Glassdoor employee reviews were terrible and still are to this day. It makes one wonder how organizations like this retain people and stay afloat.

I would remind people that a job interview is not just a moment for you to audition for a job. It is a mutual exchange of information, to see if you both align with each other. If your host mishandles the basic logistics during this process  --  as they did with my duplicate application, with the attitude copped by the secretary, the inappropriate pressure for my salary in a public setting, the wrong interview room, and with the odd line of questioning  --  something is generally wrong. It often reflects organizational issues, be they financial, cultural, ethical, or beyond. Things snowball quickly when a company has problems.

Pay just as close attention to your prospective employer during this process as they pay to you. Small details matter for them too. If they are doing something annoying during this process already, there's a good chance you'll be drinking from it in buckets as a full-time employee. No paycheck is worth a toxic work environment.

As it turns out, I wasn't quite ready for "The Avion Advantage".