From a reader:

I love the convention pieces. They're brilliant. I knew my academic career was over at the AHA in 1998. As always, I dressed in the traditional male garb -- beige pants, blue oxford, and paisley tie. I knocked on the suite door at the appointed hour, andÝI was greeted by a well-known professor who said in hushed tones, "We're running a bit late, could you come back in five minutes?" "No problem," I replied. And resumed my hallway pacing. Returning five minutes later, I was greeted by the smiling department Chair -- as I watched my "rival" amble toward the elevator (dressed exactly like me!).

I was then invited to sit down as my three interlocutors fumbled unsuccessfullly for my C.V. Before they could speak, I offered the following observation (out loud, though diplomatically). "I think its really unprofessional to stage one interview after another. It creates an uncomfortable situation both for the candidate whom you are in the midst of interviewing and the candidate whose appointment precedes his/her interview." Needless to say, the comment elicited icy stares.

To break the ice, one of the junior colleagues on the search committee (who according to my pre-meeting research, had yet to finish her dissertation), asked in a friendly voice, "So, tell us about your dissertation." To which I replied, "Actually, I finished my degree four years ago and have been teaching at theÝUniversity of X. But if you're interested, here's a copy of my book, it came out last year." This immediately provoked a kindly rejoinder from the Department Chair: "Of course, of course. In fact, I've just finished your book and really enjoyed it." Could you tell us about your next project.

This insipid banter continued for the next 45 minutes, until we were distracted by a light tapping on the door. The Department Chair kindly excused himself, approached the door and greeted the next candidate in hushed tones: "Sorry, we're running a bit late. Could you come back in five minutes." He then returned to his seat. Apologized. And asked if I had any additional questions. "Not a question," I said, "Just a suggestion. Next year, I really think you should leave a little time between interviews." But as I was uttering my comments, I noticed that all three of my interviewers were busy fumbling through a stack of papers, looking for the C.V of the next candidate. ÝI thus quietly exited, peeked at my rival, who was dressed just as I was, wished him luck and no my academic career was no more.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Pictures from an Institution, which uncannily imitates in anticipation the experience of the individual above.

UPDATE: Timothy Burke responds. And John Bruce responds to him.

My own feeling? The academic job market is for many an exercise in the casual cruelty borne of administrative incompetence. Most jobseekers grin and bear it because, frankly, they want a job more than they want dignity in the moment of the interview. Of course it was professionally suicidal for this candidate to speak as he did. But he knew that in the moment (just like he knew he had no shot at the job in question, based on the interviewers' own rudeness and lack of preparedness). And in speaking his mind, I venture to say that he grabbed back some very small part of the dignity that the interviewing process, which he himself acknowledges had reduced him to a nondescript sartorial lemming, had threatened to take away. At the very least, he's probably not looking back on that moment, rehearsing in frustrated retrospect all the things he wishes today that he had said when it became clear that at least some of those who held his fate in their hands did not even know who he was. He spoke his mind. And in doing so, I suspect he spoke for a very great many people who have--quietly, politely--had their chances at jobs derailed by hiring committees' poor scheduling, poor preparation, and poor conduct.