If Zinsser says that writing is too jargon-dense, I'd say the same about that interview I just had.
There were two issues. The first—when I walked in, she printed out thirty pages of an award application and told me that we could just walk through that, point out the highlights. Something didn't feel rright about that, but, naive as I was an hour and ten minutes ago, I didn't know why. The second issue was that I told her that I didn't know much about health care. I don't think this affected how she treated me, but I felt inferior throughout the interview. Any time she explained something, I felt dumb. Any time I had to stop to think or ask a question, I felt like she was talking down. And she wasn't, but I had verbally set myself up as less than, so I just lived that through the interview.
And if the goal is to clear jargon, walking through a comprehensive award application that was submitted to a health care board was not the way to do it. For an hour, I sat and flipped from the front to the appendix, asking more and more questions that she answered by printing more and more slides. I had no understanding of how one thing we talked about related to another, so any knowledge I may have had already wasn't very helpful. I'd already read most of the award application, so I had a decent grasp on the information. When she tried to walk me through her job by using the application, though, I was so lost.
I tried to direct the interview. By the end, I was really trying. After listening to all the information, I still needed the velcro—the part of my article that was going to make it stick. But I hadn't been driving the interview, and I hadn't asked any good questions ("what's a JOC? did you make up PODs?"). So this was what came out: "If you were going to paint a mural, of things that are important to you in your job, what would you want to be on it?"
First, let's have a moment of recognition for how awful that question is. Second, let me tell you that I actually took about 30 seconds to say it, and stuttered a lot more than what I typed out. Third, let's wait for her reaction . . . yup. She pulls up another powerpoint and flips through all the slides.
At this point, I've realized that my ability to understand anything she's said rests at a solid 45%. I've realized that I've been fighting frustration, and the interview has been failing.
Then, as if 50 minutes late to her cue, she starts describing why she does her job. She says that she and the people she works with are able to press through difficulties because they know that they're making a difference in patient's lives. For the first time, I understand every word she says. For the first time, I am listening to her speak and knowing exactly how it relates to everything else. And then I did the only thing that was the right thing I did the whole interview. I set my notebook on the desk, clicked my pen closed on top of it, and leaned back in my chair.
"So what is your job title?"
I wish I could say it was a more piercing question, but that's what it needed to be. And for the next 10 minutes, I sat back, asked questions, and listened to her answers, understanding everything perfectly. I could see the velcro of my article forming, and I let my phone keep recording while I just listened. And, when I left 10 minutes later, I felt much better than I had a half hour earlier.
I'm not sure if I'll even write the article, because I finish my internship today. I'm not sure if my boss will use any of the interview. But, in my fifth of five interviews this week, I realized how to run an interview, or how not to run an interview. I decided to stay away from excessive data and long packets of paper as structure for an interview. An interview should be a conversation, not an inundation. I realized that if I start with asking the questions, I can get the information in a way that I'll understand it. Rather than trying to follow along with a paper I didn't write, I need to lead a conversation for an article I will write.
So, from 10:00-11:44 today, that's what I did. I had a bad interview, that turned out okay, then I figured out why. I know that I could fling this out to some universal—maybe about the importance of not having conversations with people with a gameplan—but honestly, I think it's enough to have learned how not to do an interview. Interviews are about people. The people will lead you to the information. Don't start with the information. Nope.
That's all! A little lesson I learned. Take from it what you can, even if it's just "cool that you know that!"
