Early in my career, I thought interviews were about me. My skills. My achievements. My victories.

Then I sat on the other side of the table. And everything flipped.

Sitting on the decision side, I started seeing patterns — tiny details that made or broke the deal. More importantly, I saw what interviewers were actually looking for — very different from what I assumed when I was the one sweating in the chair.

After doing this a hundred times, I could spot strong candidates quickly. The good ones had their hacks. They demonstrated specific results — and who recognized them for them. They kept the interview flowing: question, concise answer, next question. I didn’t have to wrestle for time.

But most importantly, the winners understood what the interview was really about.

It wasn’t about the résumé. It was about the hiring manager’s problem.

Most candidates show up ready to impress and treat interviews like a stage. They list accomplishments. They describe how great they are to work with. And sure, that’s nice.

But behind the table, as the hiring manager, I’m rarely thinking, “Wow.” More likely, I’m wondering:

“Can this person solve my problem?”

Because every open role is a symptom. No team hires because everything is perfect.

So what kinds of problems are hiring managers trying to solve?

It could be anything — but you won’t find it in the job ad. Job ads rarely capture the specific internal pressure driving the hire.

They don’t tell you that:

• The only engineer who understands the payment system just quit.
• Production incidents are happening often enough that everyone sleeps lightly.
• The team’s code is solid, but the user experience is suffering.

And as a candidate, you need to know that. Because without understanding the problem, it’s impossible to position yourself as the solution.

So instead of performing and impressing, demonstrate curiosity — be a detective.

Early in the conversation, ask things like:

• “What prompted the opening for this role?”
• “What’s been hard for the team lately?”
• “What problem are you hoping this role solves?”

Those questions surface the real issue.

And once the pain is on the table, the interview changes shape.

Because now, instead of giving a prepackaged speech, you can say:

“In my last role, we faced something similar…”

Instead of random autobiography — relevance.

Once you identify the problem, connect your experience directly to it. Specifically. With examples.

If the team is struggling with coordination, talk about glue work. If they’re scaling fast, talk about trade-offs you made under pressure. If they’re rebuilding trust, show that you understand people — not just systems.

That’s empathy. Not the buzzword. The mindset.

You ask.

After the pleasantries, politely inquire whether there’s a specific problem they’re trying to solve with this hire. Nine times out of ten, they’ll tell you. And if they won’t, it will leak out in offhand comments about deadlines, team dynamics, or recent departures: “We’ve had some coordination challenges…”

Sometimes — and this sounds strange — they may not even fully realize what the problem is. That’s where you come in. With thoughtful follow-up questions, you can help clarify it.

That’s how you set yourself apart.

When I first started interviewing people, I thought I was evaluating talent. What I was actually doing was looking for a solution.

And as a candidate, if you understand that — and respond to what the interview is really about — you stand out.

Not because you’re performing better. Because you’re solving something.

So stop making it about you. Figure out their problem. Then demonstrate you’re the solution.

That’s often when interviews turn into offers.

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