In early June I was contacted by a Google recruiter to ask if I was interested in applying for an engineering role at Google. She had found me based on my Stackoverflow profile. The position she was recruiting for was in Mountain View, California.
Reasons Not to Apply
I had never considered applying to Google for several reasons.
The first is that I’m not a US citizen and I don’t have a green card. This means I would need a visa. For most people, this means the employer needs to sponsor you for a H-1B visa, which anyone familiar with them will tell you is a huge pain. Most employers simply aren’t interested or at least that’s my perception. I guess the larger employers will have the scale and in-house counsel to make this viable.
Many US employers don’t actually know that it’s far, far easier to employ Australians than any other nationality. In fact it’s almost as easy as employing Canadians. Much like the TN (NAFTA) visa, Australians have the E-3 visa but most people don’t know this and employers tend to assume you need a H-1B. US Employers take note: the process for employing Australian nationals is easy.
The second reason I never considered applying to Google is perhaps another misperception on my part. My view was that Googlers seem to fit a particular profile. That profile is of being a graduate of a top school (think Stanford, UW or MIT), typically in their mid to late 20s. That’s not to say all fit this profile but your path is certainly a lot easier if this is you. Again, I’m not claiming this is the case but it certainly was my perception.
Others have argued this far better than I could, most notably Linus Torvalds, addressing it in 2007 and 2010. Suffice it to say I find C to be a far more elegant and easy-to-understand language for low-level programming.
You could argue that Java and Python can be used by many (most?) Googlers and it’s a reasonable position but one that I don’t think is correct based on my limited experience. More on this later.
Reasons to Apply
The timing of being contacted was somewhat strange and somewhat timely.
In April, a story blew up on Hacker News, proggit and elsewhere concerning an employee leaving Mahalo for Yahoo. Jason Calacanis (CEO of Mahalo) said some perhaps rash things, which the employee foolishly posted to his blog (soon thereafter taken down but you can’t put the genie back in the bottle). More here.
Jason tweeted about this. Entrepreneur-turned-VC Mark Suster chimed in, most notably with Never Hire Job Hoppers. Never. They Make Terrible Employees. This predictably caused an uproar in all the usual places.
My view is Mark makes some good points but it’s too hardline. Let me give you some examples of why.
I started out doing contract (short term) work because that’s all I could get. This all began with doing Perl CGI programming for an ISP that I was a telephone support person for and quickly transitioned into doing full-time programming (elsewhere). This was in part due to the fact that I was studying for my undergraduate degree part-time (so didn’t qualify for graduate programs), partly due to my location (most Australian companies are headquartered in Sydney in Melbourne so programming employment opportunities are disproportionately low in population terms in Perth) and partly due to timing (the early to mid-90s were a still a post-recession period).
Little did I know that this would brand me to some extent a contractor for life. In many organization contractors are viewed as some combination of second-class citizen (eg I worked at one place that didn’t give internet access to contractors), necessary evil and disloyal mercenary. Most importantly, they are expendable and first to go in tough times. This last part of it I’m fine with because I viewed it as the ultimate meritocracy: you’d stay employed as long as you were valuable.
In 2001 I moved to London, England and found this anti-contractor sentiment to be even more prevalent, which surprised me no end. So the cycle continued.
Stays at various companies varied from 3 months to 3 years (on two occasions; one ending when the company fired all contractors and half the salaried staff due to financial woes and the other ending when the company was acquired and it became clear the software’s future was limited).
But in this time I’ve been screwed over more times than I can recount.
I’ve had a client threaten to sue and terminate a contract leaving months unpaid simply as a tactic to avoid paying. I’ve been denied payments by a recruitment agent I was entitled to simply because it was too expensive and time consuming (for me) to pursue legal action. I’ve been thrown under the bus in a political move by a manager who had a project going south and was looking for a scapegoat so his boss wouldn’t fire or replace him. I’ve had someone promise to pay only later realizing they were hiding behind an offshore shelter and never had any intention of paying. The list goes on.
All in all I’ve probably lost $50,000 to $100,000 over the years from this kind of thing so when Mark (or anyone) likens this to a lack of loyalty, it’s fair to say it pisses me off.
That’s not to say I’ve never done anything on reflection I probably shouldn’t have but hey we all make mistakes. I’ve never intentionally screwed anyone over this way.
Sorry, tangent. Point is, a job-hopper is like Larry King. Larry King's about to have his 8th divorce. He has all these women asking him to marry them, he marries them, it doesn't work out, he moves on to the next one. I don't know Larry King and I wish him the best, but to me, it sure looks like every time he gets married, he's settling. If that wasn't the way it was, he would have fought to keep at least oneof those marriages intact. And that's kinda what's going on if you're a job-hopper. It means the companies want you bad, but you could care less about the companies. I hate to side with the VCs here, but if they want you more than you want them, maybe it means you need to aim higher.
I’ve spent too many years writing bullshit business software, wading through pointless process (eg spending a day in meetings to remove a comma; no I’m not kidding) and doing other brain dead nonsense. I’m tired of it. I’ve had enough. I’ve reached the point that I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s time to make a change even though I’m not exactly sure what that change is yet. It’s reached the point where I’d rather work for nothing on something remotely interesting than do this one more day.
So this had been percolating in my brain. To bring this back to Google, that’s why I say the timing was strange. The project I’d been working on (which was turning into another that was running out of money) was on hiatus and I was looking to do something different.
So I said yes I would apply.
Let me first say it was hard to speak to them on the phone. By some quirk of geography, Mountain View, California and Perth, Western Australia and 16 hours apart (Perth is 16 hours ahead), which really limited times when they were at work and I was awake.
The recruiter told me there would be a couple of phone interviews over the next couple of weeks. I had one the next week that went through a couple of questions.
Note: for this and the on-site interviews I’m not going to reveal the exact content. For the on-sites I signed an NDA but more importantly (at least to me) I said I wouldn’t.
All I’ll say is that Google’s position seems to be that they want to assess your knowledge of computer science fundamentals and problem solving ability. If you Google “google interview questions” you’ll find the kind of problem that require some kind of recursive or other divide-and-conquer type technique. This makes sense and this theme gelled with my experience overall.
I got through two questions even though I stumbled somewhat through the second. I was trying to visualize the solution and that was the problem. As soon as I took a piece of paper and drew a diagram the solution was obvious. That’s just me: I like to whiteboard/diagram rather than trying to mentally visualize.
It took until next week to hear back. I’d been expecting a second phone screen. As it turned out they wanted to arrange a series of on-site interviews at their office in Sydney. I took this as a good sign: apparently I didn’t require a second idiot test.
Like I said, I’ve spent a lot of time writing bullshit business software. Frankly my day-to-day usage of graphs, dynamic programming and balanced trees is, well, almost nonexistent. So it was time to brush up. And brush up I did.
I did some thinking about Steve’s post being over two years old. The one thing missing from this is language theory (compilers, grammars, lexing/parsing and so on). Since Steve’s post Google has added:
- Go: programming language; and
- Unladen Swallow: an LLVM port of CPython aimed at hugely speeding it up.
So I concluded language theory is important but luckily I’d been doing that anyway as part of my (sadly stalled) Markdown project.
A couple of weeks later I was flown to Sydney for 4 hours of back-to-back interviews. It’s been some years since I’ve been in Sydney so this was enjoyable anyway.
The first problem I encountered was that at least two of my interviewers had only passing or no familiarity with Java. This made it particularly difficult as some concepts are unique to one language.
But everyone knew C++. I’ve read about this before. This combined with my own experience now leads me to believe that C++ isn’t optional for any Google applicant. Not because you need to use it to work there. I have no direct experience of this. But because of “interviewer lottery”. Some at Google (it seems) do nothing but C++. You might be interviewed by one of these people.
I had to write several code segments on a whiteboard. This I expected and was fine with. I realize this is necessary (see Why Can't Programmers.. Program? and The Non-Programming Programmer) and have no problem with it but it depends on what kind of problem you ask. Simple is usually best.
Two of the problems I had were extremely finnicky to solve. In one I think the interviewer was understanding and simply wanted to determine if I understand the relevant contract and I could see what the issues were more than coding a completely correct solution (which I appreciated). Another interview got caught short before an efficient solution could be developed and I really don’t think it’s the kind of problem that lends itself to writing a code solution in 40 minute. By this I mean I believe it would be more valuable to speak about the algorithms and problems involved as the code for an efficient solution would be quite complex.
The theme of problem solving and analyzing thought processes remained constant throughout.
For some reason I had expected there would be a lunch break (10-2). There wasn’t. By the end I was mentally exhausted, 3pm (it ran over time) and I hadn’t eaten since the day before. The next day I returned home.
I was told the results would be reviewed and I would hear from them in two weeks.
Two weeks rolled around. A time for a phone call was organized. That phone call was rather short: “strong but not strong enough for this particular position” was the crux of it.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I’d actually gone into the whole thing fairly neutral to begin with in that I wasn’t mad keen on working for Google but was open to the possibility. But as time went on and I spoke to a few Googlers, I got more excited about it. I started to hope it would work out.
I actually thought the on-sites went quite well and I did expect it to progress to the next level (whatever that would’ve been I’m not sure) but my hopes were dashed.
The recruiter told me no specific feedback would be given (since I asked on what the weaknesses were). The one outright bizarre thing I was told was I was “too Microsoft-centric” (direct quote). Apart from dabbling in C# I haven’t programmed for Windows since Visual Studio 6 in 2000. It made me wonder if they were looking at the right candidate. And if I’m too Microsoft-centric, what is Jon Skeet?
I have obviously been supervised in the workplace, I’ve supervised other developers, I’ve done recruiting for companies and obviously been recruited. An important theme through all of these is the need for feedback. People need to know what they’re doing right and what they’re doing wrong.
In high school in Western Australia we have (had?) a thing called the TEE (Tertiary Entrance Exams). In year 12 (the last year of high school) you have a set of exames. Your coursework for the year and that exam result is added up with equal weighting (so 50-50), massaged through a bewildering array of scaling formulae and comes out as a score that is used for university admission. In Australia we don’t have the same system as the US of application essays, admissions committees looking at your extracurricular interests and so on. It’s all about that number.
Anyway to prepare for our TEE exams in all my subjects we went through old exam papers. For Maths I did the exam papers for the previous ten years. Our teacher would go through the problems and we could see what we did right and what we did wrong. This was incredibly valuable. Exams may test knowledge but taking exams is also a skill. If you’ve seen how to solve 50 problems and gone through the process of doing so you’re much more likely to be able to apply that knowledge to future problems. There are only so many ways you can state an integral calculus problem on an exam paper.
The Soviet Union dominated the chess world for much of the twentieth century. The Russian approach was to teach students Chess through old games.
When I got to university this all changed. You couldn’t keep the exam paper. Previous exam papers were never examined. Your exam was never given back to you so you could see what you got right and what you got wrong. The exam problems were never solved in class so you could see the right and wrong ways to go about it. This was probably so lecturers could reuse papers year after year rather than writing new papers but ultimately I considered it then (and still consider it) a failing.
Recently I did a Masters degree (in quantitative finance) and found it to be even worse: there were deliberate holes in your lecture notes about applying that knowledge to particular problems and you could bet those would be what shows up in the exam.
Why I consider this a failing is that if you’re truly meant to learn something you should concentrate on (and be told) what you don’t know, what you got wrong.
This is what I mean by feedback.
I don’t even know what position I was applying for. I don’t know what the requirements were. I don’t know what my perceived strengths and weaknesses were. So while I enjoyed much of the actual process it did require a significant time investment and the value proposition for me, as a candidate, is very low. I’ve been told that my application may be reevaluated in a year. The recruiter told me they’d like to keep me on file. I don’t know if this means anything but I’m assuming not simply because it’s the kind of “let’s still be friends” lip service companies tend to offer candidates.
One person asked if I would reapply. My inclination at this point is to say “no”. This might still be the disappointment talking (and I am disappointed) but a year is a long time. The timing worked out well this time around but the likelihood of it doing so a year from now are, well, unlikely. Taking a few days off to interview again for a low value proposition from the process may very well be hard to justify. At the risk of tooting my own horn, I tend to be free as I am now by choice rather than circumstance. It’s simply a question of finding something that doesn’t bore me shitless.
This has been a long post (now over 3,000 words), worthy of the best of Steve Yegge in length if not content.
My view of Google has changed. I don’t have the same view of Google being a Mecca for Ivy-shrouded twentysomethings. It does seem like they really are interested in talent in many forms.
But the process does seem to be a lottery to some extent. I don’t know what the selection criteria is but it wouldn’t surprise me if 4 (or even all 5) of your 5 interviewers need to give you a thumbs up for you to go on. This may represent the “anarchic” (even haphazard) culture of Google itself. I really don’t know.
I do get the impression that references from Googlers count for a lot.
I’ve read that Google receives some 1,500 CVs a day and they do on-site interviews for less than 1% of these so perhaps I should be flattered and should just take the experience for what it was. To some extent I do. I’m simply not sure I feel the need to repeat it next year.