“So, tell me: How are you going to guarantee the accuracy and integrity of the data?” he asked.
I glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:25 p.m. The CEO and I had been talking since 2:00, and he had to be at his next meeting in 5 minutes.
I felt frozen, like a tilted pinball machine. For a moment I wasn’t even sure I’d heard the question right. He couldn’t seriously be asking a tester for… whaaa??? I could feel my adrenal glands dumping their contents into my blood stream.
“This is the moment,” I thought. “The point when this interview goes South.”
Part of me wanted to simply stand up, shake the CEO’s hand, thank him for the opportunity, and walk out. I could still salvage a nice afternoon before I had to be back at the airport.
Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. Involuntarily, I pondered the previous 12 hours…
2:45AM Wake up, shower… 3AM Dress up in suit and tie (20 minutes devoted to fighting with tie)… 3:45AM Drive to airport… 5AM Sit in terminal… 6AM Board flight to San Francisco… 9AM Arrive SFO… 9:15AM Sit in (completely stationary) BART train… 10:00AM Miss Caltrain connection… 10:30AM Arrive at office, thanks to a ride from their helpful administrative assistant… 10:45AM Interview with the head of products… 11:30AM Interview with the head of development… 12:15PM Lunch… 2:00PM Interview with CEO…
As the epinephrine circulated through my body, creating a sensation akin to somersaulting backwards, I began to feel resentful. I’d flown there on my own dime, after having already talked with these guys by phone for several hours. I was under the impression that the trip would be more of a “meet & greet the team” social hour. Not a repeat of the entire interview process, from square one. The Head of Products had given me several assurances that I was his top choice and that they’d only be asking me to fly out if the position were essentially mine to refuse.
So, there I was. The CEO sat across the table from me, expecting an answer.
What I wanted to say was that I was in no position to guarantee anything of the sort, given my radical ignorance of the data domain, the data’s source(s), the sources’ track record(s) for accuracy, or how the data get manipulated by the in-house systems.
What I wanted to say was that his question was prima facie absurd. That I, as a tester, couldn’t “guarantee” anything other than that I would use my skills and experience to find as many of the highest risk issues as quickly as possible in the given time frame. However, when you’re dealing with any black box, you can’t guarantee that you’ve found all the problems. Certainty is not in the cards.
What I wanted to say was that anyone who sat in front of the CEO claiming that they could guarantee the data’s accuracy and integrity was clearly a liar and should be drummed out of the profession of software testing.
I wanted to say all that and more, but I didn’t. Given the day’s exhausting schedule, all these thoughts were little more than fleeting, inchoate, nebulous impressions. Plus, it seemed highly unlikely that the CEO, who struck me as an impatient man (your typical “Type A” personality), would be interested in spending the remaining 4 or 5 minutes discussing epistemology with me. Honestly, I’m not sure what I said, exactly. The question, and the CEO’s demeanor while asking it, had drained away any enthusiasm I had for the position. In all likelihood, my response was along the lines of “I have no idea how to answer that question.”
Whatever I said, it was obviously not how to impress an MBA from Wharton. I didn’t get offered the job.
