Sometimes, I think we’re going about hiring all wrong.

Forget reference checks. Forget panel interviews. Forget those painfully curated resumes where everyone is “results-driven” and “passionate about synergy” (whatever that means this week).

What we really need is a nice, quiet restaurant.

Recently, I found myself at a mostly empty Chinese restaurant. It was peaceful, calm, just me and my dumplings when a group of three chose to sit right next to me. (Why? We may never know. Possibly fate. Possibly poor spatial judgment.)

One of them, let’s call him “loud male worker” was very loud. Not accidentally loud. Confidently loud. The kind of loud that says, “I would like strangers to be aware of my professional philosophy.”

And what a philosophy it was.

His bosses? Know nothing.
Him? Knows everything.
Effort level? Minimal, by design.

He then proceeded to take several work calls, during which he was aggressive, dismissive, and generally radiating the kind of energy that makes HR departments age prematurely.

And that’s when it hit me.

This is the interview.

Not the polished version. Not the “tell me about a time when…” version. Not the one where everyone suddenly becomes collaborative, strategic, and deeply committed to organizational excellence.

No. This is the unfiltered, soy-sauce-adjacent truth.

Can you imagine? A hiring process where instead of asking for references, we simply observe. Sit nearby. Order lo mein. Listen. Let people unknowingly reveal exactly who they are when they think no one important is paying attention.

Of course, this is not actually possible (nor legal, nor scalable, nor something my general counsel would survive). But still, it’s tempting.

Because somewhere between the egg rolls and the unsolicited monologue, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Thank God I am not hiring this guy.

And a quieter realization. People always tell you who they are. Just not always in the interview.

So perhaps the real takeaway isn’t to conduct covert restaurant surveillance (again, please don’t). It’s to remember that the most important data points are rarely the rehearsed ones.

And if nothing else, may we all strive to be the kind of employee who can sit in a nearly empty restaurant without loudly announcing our incompetence to a stranger trying to enjoy her dumplings.

A modest proposal.