First Aid in the Conference Room: The Most High-Stakes Interview I Ever Managed

When you invite a finalist candidate into your office for a client interview, you prepare for the standard hurdles. You make sure the conference room is clean, the tech is working, and the water glasses are filled.

You do not usually prepare to play first responder.

Years ago, I was recruiting for a Chief Information Officer for a local creative agency. After weeks of sourcing and vetting, we had our top finalists. The client’s favorite candidate arrived at our office, and I ushered him into the main conference room to wait for the hiring team.

I gave him my standard, hospitable greeting: "Can I get you anything while we wait for the team to arrive? Coffee? Water?"

He looked up at me, his face slightly flushed.

"Do you happen to have any Benadryl? Or any kind of antihistamine?"

I was a bit taken aback. A request for allergy meds isn't your typical pre-interview ask.

Before I could answer, he explained the situation. He was severely allergic to shellfish. He had just grabbed lunch before coming over, and he was terrified that something he ate had been cross-contaminated. Then came the words that made my stomach drop:

"I'm starting to have trouble breathing."

Instantly, my heart started racing. In recruitment, we talk a lot about "high-stakes situations," but this was literal life or death.

Fortunately, all those mandatory CPR and first-aid classes kicked in. I didn't panic. I sprinted out of the conference room, bolted into our office kitchen, and began frantically tearing through the first-aid kit. By some absolute stroke of structural luck, there was a box of Benadryl.

I grabbed it, poured a glass of water, and raced back into the room.

He swallowed the pills. For the next few minutes, time stood still. I sat there, gripping my cell phone with my thumb literally hovering over the digits 9-1-1, staring at him to make sure his airway wasn't closing or that he wasn't about to collapse. I was practically hyperventilating on his behalf, but I tried to keep my face completely serene.

Slowly, the medication did its job. I watched his shoulders drop, his breathing even out, and his face return to a normal color. He began to relax.

"Look," I told him, “your health comes first. We can absolutely call the client right now and reschedule this. It is not a problem.”

But the guy was an absolute warrior. He insisted he was fine and wanted to push through.

A moment later, the front desk alerted me that the clients had arrived. I walked out to the lobby to greet them, pulling them aside immediately. I laid out exactly what had just happened, told them the candidate was stable but to keep an eye out, and gave them a strict directive: "If for any reason he looks like he's struggling, stop the interview immediately. The front desk will come find me."

With the stage set and my adrenaline still pumping, they went into the room.

Against all absolute odds, the interview went off without a single hitch. The candidate completely crushed it. Not only did he survive the shellfish incident, but he also landed the job and was hired as their new CIO.

I don't think I’ve ever felt a wave of relief quite like the one I felt when that placement contract was signed.

Being a great recruiter isn't just about matching resumes to job descriptions. Sometimes, it’s about being the person who can calmly hand over a life-saving antihistamine, keep a client calm, and ensure the show goes on—even when the stakes are breathtakingly high.