Over the past 15 years of my working life, I’ve done a lot of interviews for a lot of different jobs and industries: call centre operator, social media manager, bookseller, copywriter, library worker. Recently, after completing my first year of a masters degree in early childhood and primary teaching, I applied for a preschool education role and experienced a first: being interviewed by AI.
I’d heard of this practice and was aware of its shortcomings, from how demoralising it is to the risk of discrimination.
Yet I still wasn’t prepared for how dystopian and dehumanising it felt to be in the situation myself.
I had applied for the role with great interest – it was at a sessional kindergarten managed by a not-for-profit. My initial excitement at being shortlisted soon faded as I realised I would be speaking with an “AI assistant”. Nevertheless, she persisted: I dressed as I would for any other job interview, shooed my cats out of the room, sat down at my laptop and clicked to enter the interview.
A disembodied voice greeted me by name and the interview began. I found it disconcerting to see myself in the little video window with no one else visible, but I pushed through the discomfort to answer the questions. At one point the AI asked me a question that I needed time to consider. I’ve previously been told it’s acceptable to pause during job interviews to think through a particularly tricky question, so I did just that – and I was booted off the interview entirely. As I clicked the link once more to restart the interview, I could feel a guttural scream rising in my throat.
At the end of the interview, the AI asked if I had any questions about the role. I did, but they were all answered with regurgitations from the job ad. For any clarification, the AI said, I would need to have a conversation with a manager. I stifled a laugh at the irony.
The AI thanked me for my time and said that my video would be reviewed by the company, which would be in touch. I closed the browser window and stared at my blank laptop screen and my own reflection. I had been alone the entire time, after all.
In the following days, I could not stop thinking about this experience. I posted on early childhood forums asking if anyone had gone through the same thing. I was met with a ripple of shock from industry peers, including senior people, who couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t either – it’s demeaning enough to put any job-seeker through AI interviews, but the profession of caring for and educating children is surely one of the most human that still exists. Especially in light of the ongoing childcare crisis in Australia, outsourcing recruitment of this essential role to a machine seems lazy at best and negligent at worst.
Still, I tried to bargain with myself: maybe the experience will be worth it. Surely this is only the first stage of the recruitment process and the next interview will be with a person? I really want to contribute positively to my community! This is the future, right?
But that little voice in my head was only getting louder. I felt degraded: I’d put effort into my application and interview, so why shouldn’t I receive effort back? I noticed, too, that the organisation’s website had AI photos of “educators”. Was the interview a sign of labour erasure to come?
I ultimately decided to withdraw my application and emailed the organisation to tell them precisely why. It has been over a month and I have received no response, no acknowledgment whatsoever. I still haven’t spoken to a single human being.
I think of those sweet little children I could have taught, learning about the world, each other, themselves. They don’t know what an AI interview is yet, but if things continue this way, one day they will. I want better for them. I want better for all of us.