Staring at a black screen for an AI interview is harder than it looks

That strange feeling of talking to a camera lens

I remember the first time I had to do one of those remote video interviews. I had spent hours adjusting the lighting in my room, trying to make sure the background didn’t look too messy, but when the timer actually started, I realized I had completely overlooked how awkward it feels to talk to a blinking red light instead of a real person. There is no one there to nod at you or give you that small encouraging smile that keeps you going when you lose your train of thought. You just sit there, in your own living room, trying to project confidence while your cat is potentially pacing behind the couch. It is a very specific type of loneliness that you don’t really anticipate until the screen says ‘Recording Started’ and you have exactly sixty seconds to sum up your entire professional personality.

Trying to prep for an AI that does not blink

People talk about AI competency tests like they are just another version of a written exam, but the reality is quite different. I used a service for some interview prep that cost around 30,000 won for a month, thinking it would make me feel more prepared. It gave me these bizarre questions that felt like they were plucked from a psychological thriller rather than a career assessment. I found myself obsessing over whether I was speaking too fast or if the software was picking up on my slight stutter when I got nervous. I spent so much time practicing my ‘interview voice’ that I started to sound like a low-budget robot myself. It is frustrating because you realize the machine is analyzing your facial expressions and tone, yet you have no idea what it actually considers ‘good.’ You just keep resetting and trying again, hoping the algorithm likes you better the second time around.

The shift toward remote processes is everywhere

It is not just the big tech companies like SK Hynix pushing these remote video interviews anymore. Even when I was looking into local government programs or small business support grants, everything seems to have shifted to these non-face-to-face formats. They call it ‘efficiency,’ and I suppose it makes sense from their end—they don’t have to rent out an entire floor of an office building or pay for a dozen interviewers to sit in a room for three days. But for the applicant, it feels like the barrier to entry has just become another screen to stare at. You miss the vibe of the office, the chance to see how people interact in the breakroom, and the basic human context that helps you decide if you even want to work there in the first place.

The exhaustion of the digital gauntlet

After finishing a couple of these sessions, I felt more drained than I ever did after a traditional in-person interview. There is a strange fatigue that comes from sitting perfectly still for an hour, ensuring you stay in the frame, and constantly checking your internet connection. I remember being halfway through an AI-based behavioral assessment when my Wi-Fi dropped for just a few seconds. I panicked for a good five minutes, wondering if the software had recorded my ‘disconnection’ as a lack of focus or technical incompetence. I don’t know if this is the future of hiring, but sitting there alone with a laptop in a quiet room, praying that my router holds up, feels like a very imperfect way to measure someone’s value as an employee. I still have no idea if the system actually understands me or if it just flags people who look uncomfortable on camera.