Staring at the webcam for an hour felt strange

Getting used to the screen focus

I remember when I first had to do a remote interview for a public sector position. It was for a government-related safety role, and back then, the whole process felt oddly clinical compared to walking into an office building. I remember sitting in my room, adjusting the angle of my laptop because the background looked too messy. I spent about 45,000 won buying a cheap Logitech webcam online just to make sure the image wasn’t blurry, even though the built-in one probably would have been fine. The wait time for the actual connection was about ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. I kept checking my reflection in the corner of the screen, obsessing over whether my hair looked flat from wearing a hat earlier.

The weirdness of AI personality tests

There was also this AI personality test I had to take for a different role. It was bizarre. It asks you the same questions over and over again, just phrased slightly differently, as if it is trying to catch you in a lie. I was sitting there at my desk for nearly an hour, clicking through these personality scales. It’s supposed to be an objective way to screen people, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I was just gaming the system by picking the ‘most responsible’ answer every time. It left me feeling strangely exhausted, even though I hadn’t actually spoken to a human being at all during the process. At least in a physical interview, you can read the room a bit.

Comparing to the old way

I’ve been to those job fairs in places like Seogwipo where they offer resume consulting and free photos, and there is a massive difference in energy. You walk around, you talk to people, and you get a sense of the actual office culture. The remote mock interview programs—I think they are called ‘Dream Wings’ or something similar—are helpful if you have never done it before, but they don’t capture the awkward silence of a real video call. When you’re at home, the silence feels heavy because you aren’t sure if the connection dropped or if the interviewer is just thinking.

The struggle with video meeting setups

I recall a time when my internet flickered right in the middle of a check-in. It wasn’t even a high-stakes interview, just a routine briefing, but I started sweating. I had to tether my phone just to stay in the meeting. It’s these small, technical frictions that make remote work feel less professional than it looks on paper. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just gone to one of those private interview academies in Seoul to practice in a studio-like environment. They charge quite a bit, maybe 100,000 to 200,000 won for a few sessions, but maybe it would have saved me from the anxiety of staring at my own pixelated face while waiting for a signal to stabilize.

Uncertainty remains

I don’t know if I’m actually better at these things now, or if I’ve just become numb to the process. Even now, after a few remote interviews, I still double-check my microphone settings three times before the window opens. There’s a lingering doubt that maybe I’m coming across as stiff because I’m so focused on looking into the camera lens rather than the actual person on the screen. Maybe I’ll do it differently next time, perhaps by setting up a second monitor so I can actually look at the person’s face while I speak, but for now, I just keep staring at that little glowing green dot.