A recruiter reached out to me.

I spoke with him on the phone, and he asked a couple of technical questions. This led to a technical phone interview.

During that interview, I wrote a Python program in a Google Doc. Afterward, I was invited to visit their office. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it at the time, so I canceled the on-site interview.

Fast forward a year and a half, and I was contacted again by a recruiter. This time, I was more prepared to explore what Google had to offer and accepted an invitation to visit their office in Boulder. I was incredibly excited! What an opportunity!

After a few weeks, I went for my scheduled visit. The day consisted of five mini-interviews and a lunch.

Each mini-interview presented a programming challenge. They were similar to homework assignments from a first or second-year computer science class. The interviewers, of course, knew the questions and how to challenge the solutions I developed. Overall, it was somewhat enjoyable.

However, the real breakdown for me was the lack of genuine connection with the interviewers. I am gainfully employed and was primarily seeking to determine if I could work well with these individuals and if the risk of starting a new job was worthwhile for the benefit of working at a world-class software company. The answer, ultimately, was no.

I struggled to gauge the emotions of any of my interviewers. Everything they said seemed scripted. While that might have been acceptable, the worst part was the lunch.

I was paired with a random employee from the office, and I simply could not connect. When I asked about his work, I received a single sentence about financial transactions. When I inquired about a generally "geeky" topic, I was told, "I'm sure we should be using this time to talk about Google, and not [geeky topic]."

Shocked, I stated that I genuinely wanted to understand who I would be working with and asked about his passions. He proceeded to recite what sounded like his college admission essay, peppered with technical jargon that I suspect was intended to impress me.

Following this, I was escorted back to the conference room. I can't precisely recall my feelings at that moment, but I no longer felt welcome or excited.

This process taught me that I was expected to be greatly impressed by the Google brand. I desperately wanted to fit in, but I realized it wasn't the right fit for me. Upon closer examination of my current situation, I saw that behind the velociraptor statue was merely a cubicle wall. It was just an office, like any other.

The last three interviews that afternoon may have been self-sabotaged.

I simply no longer cared. I asked the interviewers about the projects they worked on and encountered the same lack of passion I experienced with my lunch companion. In the final interview, I wasn't even writing code anymore, just using set notation and lambda functions. It felt entirely self-serving, and I am not convinced the interviewer was engaged.

A week later, I received a phone call informing me that I had not been selected. This was a welcome outcome.

If I can say one thing about this process, it was very pleasant. I was so relieved to hear that an offer had not been extended. Had one been made, turning it down would have been devastating.

On a positive note, I observed people eating together during lunch; no one seemed to be alone. This suggests that people do get along there. I'm sure it's not as bad as I perceived it to be.