The Interview
By Nisma Khan
As my pink suede heels dug into my ankle, my black dress itchy and uncomfortable. I could feel my heartbeat quickening. A cloud of hairspray filled the room, and the “clip clop” of heeled shoes was putting me on edge. The thick smell of perfume wafted up my nose, and I could feel the sweat pooling on my back. Everyone was muttering to themselves, practicing the perfect smile, and quietly reapplying their makeup.
Suddenly, Isabella walked out of the other room, a quiet smile on her face, a signal that her interview had gone well. Then it was my turn, and I slowly made my way towards the interview room, closing the door behind me. The interview was just one of four components that go towards winning the title of Junior Miss Dance of California. There were many parts to the competition. First, the evaluations, to see how quickly the dancer can pick up choreography. Then, the opening number, to see how they dance with others. Next, the solo dance, to see their individual style, and finally, the interview. At this point, all the other components had been completed, and even after weeks of preparing with interview questions, I was scared.
I sat down on the single chair, a laptop with Zoom open sitting on the small wooden table in front of me. Because of COVID 19, interviews had to be done virtually, and sitting in my dance studio’s lobby, turned into our interview room, I tried to relax. All week, everyone had been telling me exactly how to act; talk about your achievements, be loud, be excited, etc. But all of these tips were quickly followed by “but not too much”. What is too much? I wondered. I glanced at the screen, the Zoom waiting room still open. Suddenly, I saw a shock of blonde hair in my peripheral vision.
“Has it started yet?” my dance coach, Miss Michelle whispered.
I shook my head.
“Don’t worry, it should start soon,” she told me, glancing at her watch. “Just make sure to be super animated. You’re gonna be fine, I just know you’re good at interviews,” she said, walking back out the door.
Although her pep talk had good intentions, it did little to calm my nerves. In fact, her confidence terrified me. She’s gonna be all the more disappointed when she sees my interview score, I thought to myself miserably.
The Zoom meeting opened. Animated, I thought to myself, just be super animated.
The judges had a singular camera that was centered on the five of them sitting in a semicircle around a table. They were a mixture of ages, ranging from around 20 to 80. I smiled, hoping that small facial expression would put everyone, including myself, at ease.
“Hello,” the man in the center, dressed in slacks and a button up shirt, greeted me.
“Hi!” a sweet sugar coated voice responded. I almost cringed when I realized that it was me who just said that. Panicked, I waved. No! Please God, tell me I did not just do a delayed wave, I thought.
But I did wave. This was confirmed by the strange and confused looks given to me by the judges. One of them chuckled. Thankfully, we moved on.
“So, tell us about yourself,” an elderly woman said.
I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. The question that I had wanted. I felt my adrenaline rush and sat up a little straighter. Be animated.
“My name is Nisma Khan. I’m Egyptian and Pakistani, and I was born in London. I have an older sister, and we moved to California when I was five.”
You may be thinking that I’m not including the rest of my answer, an answer that would have detailed my love for art, when I started dancing, and about a million other points I had rehearsed just minutes prior.
You would be wrong. Instead, I froze. I had assumed I was rambling, but by the time I had stopped myself, I realized I had said barely anything. The silence at that moment was more than I could take. My previous adrenaline rush puttered out, and I could feel my back slouching against the seat. I held my breath, attempting to contain the tears that were waiting to be let out. In my mind, my mascara was running, my hair was frazzled, and my lipstick was smudged; I looked like a mess. But, as I could see in my Zoom camera, I looked perfectly normal. Just keep smiling, I thought, just keep smiling. In the background, a judge asked me a question, but all I could hear were the thoughts of regret replaying in my mind.
The rest of the interview was awkward, and the whole time I was kicking myself for my first response. I could tell that the judges were having a hard time thinking of follow up questions, and I couldn’t blame them. All my responses felt fake, and by the time my two minute interview was up, I couldn’t even feel relieved. I was angry, frustrated, and most of all, embarrassed. As I opened the door, five pairs of hopeful eyes stared back at me, asking how it had gone. I lied, and muttered something about how well it went.
This was the first time I feel like I truly understood the importance of not always doing exactly what you’re told. In dance, I was used to following the coach’s technique, the choreography, or the combination to a T. Doing as instructed had become second nature. Instead of looking back on that traumatizing first interview and cringing, I can now see it as a lesson. This dance interview is important to my identity because it changed the way I act when I’m meeting people for the first time. It taught me to go with my gut. Up until that point, I had assumed that to make a good first impression, I should just act how other people tell me too. Had I simply been myself instead of worrying about the “right” answer, I could have done a lot better; I would have come out of that interview knowing I had done my best. I’m glad I learned that lesson early though, and I know that in my next interview, I will just be myself, not the person other people think I should be.
