I should have taken charge of the meeting.
Our landlord set an appointment to inspect the suite we were leaving. This is the norm, to ensure everything is in order before releasing the security deposit.
We spent hours preparing. We got on our knees and scrubbed the oven clean with baking soda and vinegar. We bought new scourges to get out tough stains in the fridge.
We worried about what he might notice. The dent we made in the wall when moving furniture in years ago. The paint peeled off where we had used tape to hold up a wire. The hole we had punctured in the door to hang a picture frame.
We are very tidy people, and operate with high integrity. So it mattered to us that things be as perfectly done as possible. Our suite had been a former AirBnB lodging, so the stakes were high to ensure it was as we met it when we moved in years ago.
Inspection hour came, and I stood with bated breath.
He came in and went straight to the kitchen, and opened the tap at the sink. Water ran. Of course, I thought, what was he expecting to happen?
He opened the microwave. Immaculate. I beamed internally.
He completely ignored the oven and went on the bathroom. We had concentrated effort there and not even a glance!
At the bathroom, it was the same thing. Opening taps, and flushing. Curious behaviour. If these things weren’t in order, I thought, don’t you think we would’ve told you?
As he left, he asked if the TV was working. I was befuddled and said yes, but I thought “Shouldn’t you check? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
It dawned on me that what we had prepared for was totally different from what he was inspecting for. We had focused on the minutiae. On perfect cleanliness. Ensuring every little thing was in place. He was focused on function. On making sure the basics worked and the major things were intact.
My first thought was that we had wasted our time over preparing. Some of our good work wasn’t even noticed.
But I later, I thought: maybe I should have taken charge of this meeting. Once he stepped in, I should have taken initiative.
“Let’s start at the kitchen… As you can see, the oven looks brand new… Here, the cabinets… Look, the fan…” and on and on.
At this point, you can tell how proud I am of that oven bit.
Three things would have happened if I did this:
- He would have witnessed my intentionality and confidence. It would have set him at ease.
- Having noted my robust performance, he would have asked questions about things that were important to him
- My strong points would have been highlighted and possibly appreciated (especially that oven, don’t you know!)
At the end, he said he would send the security deposit in two weeks. Two weeks, I asked? Yes, he responded, just in case there was anything he didn’t ‘catch’ and that new tenants reported to him, he would analyze to see if it was something that needed to be dedicated from my security deposit.
Madness.
He saw his own unfairness and ended his explanation by saying “but this time” he would send it at once. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that,” came my response. I am very assertive in life but a bit demure when it comes to anything to do with asking for money, and rather shy not to jeopardize relationships with authority figures.
Perhaps he did not know how to conduct inspections. This was his first inspection, I later got to know, and it showed.
All this told me about interviews.
Some interviewers are not experienced. They don’t know what to look for. They go through a checklist mechanically. Some of them are savvy and trained, but it might be a bad day for them.
But you’re the one being evaluated. You can’t leave the impression they make of you to them and their interviewing skills.
Take charge. Lead the tour. Show them that oven. Observe their interests and tailor your presentation to what they want.
Ask for your security deposit—your preferred compensation. If you’re not too bold, phrase the question as as a curious thought.