I’m mostly a logical person, even though I’m heavily into the esoteric. This is why, on the morning of my first interview in a year, I dismissed the violent flickering of my hallway light, along with a few other odd occurrences I’ll share later, as any kind of sign.

A little background: I love to dabble in astrology, divination, angel numbers, signs, symbolism, and dream interpretations. I live for a deep dive into the hidden meanings behind the obvious. Had I been born in different circumstances, I’d like to think I would have been a philosopher. I’m genuinely fascinated by learning the truth, the reason, the logic, the meaning behind everything. Maybe it’s all the air in my natal chart, or my Projector archetype in Human Design, or maybe it’s because feeling misunderstood has driven me to fully understand myself and create a safe space for others to feel seen. I could ruminate on this forever, but I’ll spare you, lol.

Then there’s my logical side, a strong believer in confirmation bias—whatever you look for, you’ll see it. For instance, when practicing divination, I know the danger of injecting my will and intentions into the cards, affirming my position instead of objectively receiving information. This side of me, the logical side, sticks to facts, finding practical reasons and solutions. She dominates my everyday life, showing up and handling business. She gets things done!

But after the interview, I’m second-guessing myself. Were those seemingly random events actually signs, or just coincidences? Am I now assigning meaning to random events to pacify myself? I honestly can’t tell. You be the judge.

Interview Day

I was up way too late the night before. Heartburn clawed its way into my chest and throat, keeping me awake until 3am. Then, at 7am, my frantic girlfriend shook me awake. She’d been up since 5am, tearing apart her room and searching my car for a missing $100. A quick, anxious conversation later, she left for the bank. She told me to go back to sleep, but once I’m awake, I’m awake.

After a few minutes of trying to get my bearings in bed—and ignoring my cat’s dramatic demands for food and love—I finally got up. Might as well start the day, right? I flipped on the hallway light, made some tea, and stepped outside to enjoy the morning air. When I came back in, the hallway light was flickering like something out of a horror movie. I’ve seen dying light bulbs flicker before—a slow, fading dim. This was different. This was violent. A rapid on-off, almost like someone was playing with the switch. It actually startled me. For a split second, I wondered if it was a sign from my brother, who I’d been thinking about a lot. Is this a sign? I thought. An omen? The thoughts raced through my head before I shoved them away. Relax, I told myself. It’s just a light bulb. A sign to change it, genius.

The rest of the morning was smooth sailing. Two hours before the interview, my girlfriend and I left the house. On the way to drop her off—she’d just sold her car the day before, planning to get a new one that weekend—my car just died. Completely. No lights, no sound, nothing. Weird, considering I’d put in a new battery just a week ago. Then, just as suddenly, it came back on. Okay, I thought, maybe I didn’t install the battery right. Is something loose? But the nagging question returned: Is this another sign? I got her to work okay and headed across town for my interview. No more car trouble, but I did get rerouted by three separate accidents on the way to Post Oak. Normally, I’d chalk it up to Houston traffic, but…I registered it. I just didn’t dwell on it.

I arrived at the interview location about thirty minutes early and killed time chatting with my best friend—nothing unusual there. I went inside and made small talk with a woman in the reception area of this utterly nondescript office. A few minutes later, my interviewer appeared. Pleasant enough, but definitely on the stoic side. Her first question: “Tell me something about you that’s not on your resume.” Ugh.

Let me just say, I hate this interview question. I spend ages crafting my resume, tailoring it to the specific job. It’s two and a half pages long, covering everything! Why ask me to regurgitate it? If you’ve invited me for an interview, it’s because you like what you see on paper. Interviews should be about personality, work style, culture fit—not repeating what’s already in front of you. It’s like “upload your resume” followed by “now fill out this application with all the information from your resume.” So annoying. But, I digress…

Knowing her demeanor was stiff, I tried to inject some humor. “Well, you’ll have to be more specific than that,” I joked. “I mean, I’m a Gemini, I love to read and write, I have a cat named Aspen…” It got a chuckle, and she clarified the question.

The interview itself was…an experience. Several red flags popped up, so many that I didn’t have time to fully process them in the moment. Her management style, she explained, was…lacking in empathy. Direct, she said, sometimes to the point of hurting people’s feelings. Feelings, she emphasized, had no place at work. She uses work as an escape, arriving early and leaving late. And, oh yeah, she uses yearly goal-setting meetings to identify employees she plans to fire. Oh, and one more thing: the reason we weren’t at corporate? She didn’t want her team to know she was interviewing. Uhm….

Even though my antennae were practically vibrating during that interview, I was too focused on finishing strong to really process anything. We talked about the job, her team’s goals, her projects, and the travel requirements (remember that bit, it’s important later). An hour later, she told me the next step was a personality test from HR. We shook hands, and I headed to my car in the parking garage. As soon as the door closed behind me, I grabbed my phone to call my best friend and spill the tea. But then…my car wouldn’t start. Not only wouldn’t it start, it was dead. No sounds, no lights, nothing. A complete blackout. Usually, I’d suspect the battery—the clicking, the dash lights—but this was total silence. Great. Here I was, stranded in this fancy part of town, hood up on my 2017 Chevy, wondering what to do. Like every other woman with car trouble, I started poking at random things under the hood, hoping someone would notice my public humiliation and offer help. Nada. Finally, I touched the battery I’d just installed. A little wiggle, a few pushes on the cables…and it roared to life! Boom! Independent woman, no man mechanic needed, lol. Sorry, just a little moment of triumph.

On the way home, my bestie and I talked the whole interview through. And by the end of our conversation, I realized…if they offered, I’d probably take it. I need to get back to work, get my finances in order. But I also knew it wouldn’t be forever. This woman was so much like my last boss. Burned out, working with a team that wasn’t up to par and throwing all the work on the few capable employes that she had, a total workplace bully using procedures to micromanage everyone, stressed out, emotionally dysregulated, avoidant, and passive aggressive. I could see the future: me doing all the work, trying to anticipate her needs, not getting the credit for my work, having my ideas stolen and co-opted, being her emotional crutch, walking on eggshells all day, and ending up burned out.

I knew I should say no. But honestly? I’d been in a rough patch, a period of growth and change that has been…challenging, to say the least. And this job offered $85k, almost what I used to make. It felt impossible to say no. Especially knowing my girlfriend had been carrying us financially for months. How could I tell her I’d turned down a well-paying job because of “bad vibes”? That day, I decided: if it was meant to be, I’d hear back. And if they offered, I’d accept. It would be a sign, I told myself.

Fast Forward

That interview was a week ago. Yesterday, the recruiter called. They’d gone with another candidate, despite my “stellar interview,” because I’d mentioned I’d have difficulty with the commute. I called “CAP!” When she asked what I meant, I explained what I’d told the interviewer: HR had said they have properties all over Houston and would try to place me closer to home, but it wasn’t guaranteed. I’d said I understood, no problem—especially since I’d been applying for jobs in Dallas, Austin, San Antonio, and Katy! But honestly, I explained to her, I wasn’t disappointed. After what I learned about the hiring manager during the interview, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prospect of working there. We wrapped up that call after a few minutes and I felt relieved.

Signs or No?

So, here I am today, replaying the events of that interview day in my mind. And I can’t help but wonder…were those inconveniences more than just bad luck? Were they signs? Attempts to steer me away?

My girlfriend’s missing money that morning—was that a foreshadowing of the financial compromise I’d be making with that job? The flickering hallway light—a warning about my car’s battery? The car dying on the way to drop her off—a literal attempt to stop me from going? And those accidents, constantly redirecting me…

Then there was the interview itself, leaving me drained. And my car, dead in the parking garage. A non-starter, just like the job.

Or am I just grasping at straws, assigning meaning to random events? What do you think? Let me know in the comments.