From Analyst to Master: Why Interviews Reward Conformity Over Capacity


Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been looking for a new full-time role on the wrong side of my 50s. As improbable (or perhaps even tragicomic) as that might sound, life, as Woody Allen once said, has a sense of humor: If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

I still run independent projects, but I’m actively looking for a full-time position because I miss what only larger organizations can offer: structure, healthy friction, collaboration, and the strange satisfaction of wrestling with problems too big for one person to solve alone.

I’ve been through numerous interviews here in Norway, my adopted homeland. With a background that spans management, geoscience, engineering, and five languages (plus a creative portfolio that shows I don’t just say I’m creative) I expected more traction. Yet I often stall after the first round.

I did everything you’re supposed to do. I improved my Norwegian, studied each company in depth, mapped the challenges hidden between the lines of the job description, rehearsed, refined, adapted. But after dozens of interviews, a more unsettling pattern emerged: yes, I had room to improve, but the system itself had deeper flaws.

What’s often being rewarded isn’t capacity; it’s conformity. The early “get to know you” stage favors polished narratives over diagnostic thinking, and charm over critical reasoning. It leaves little space for the complex, analytical minds companies claim to be seeking.

Trained in geoscience to separate signal from noise, and refining that lens through my study of Lacanian psychoanalysis, I’ve learned to apply structured reasoning even to soft domains: communication, ambiguity, unconscious bias. Every system can be read; especially the ones that claim to be neutral. Including the job interview.

And what I see is this: a process that was meant to diagnose too often ends up as guesswork.

How Interviews Should Work: The Analyst’s Discourse

An interview should not be a performance. It should be a structured diagnostic. Its goal is to uncover not just what a person has done, but how they think, reason, and respond to problems. In Lacanian terms, this ideal structure mirrors what he called the Analyst’s Discourse.

               a →  $
           ——————————————
               S2   S1

Here’s how to read it:

  • a (Agent): The lack or problem leads. The driver is the real challenge—the business need or uncertainty the role exists to address.
  • $ (Other): The candidate as a full, complex subject—not a résumé, but a thinker.
  • S2 (Truth): The method. Behind the scenes, you apply criteria, structure, knowledge.
  • S1 (Product): A new, precise signifier—a clear understanding of what this person brings; something named, not assumed.

When interviews follow this model:

  • The organization starts with a real lack: “We need to scale without losing quality.” “We’re failing at cross-team communication.”
  • The candidate is invited to think aloud. You offer a real sample of work—a document, a plan, a scenario—and give them space to respond.
  • The panel listens with a method. Criteria are applied not to score charisma, but to assess how the candidate frames problems, asks questions, and balances risks.
  • The result is a precise diagnosis: you walk away with a clear and unique statement of the candidate’s strength—“methodical de-risker,” “collaborative simplifier,” “system thinker under ambiguity.”

This is how an interview uncovers substance, not just confirms bias.

How Interviews Often Actually Work: The Slide into the Master’s Discourse

In practice, the diagnostic ideal often collapses under the weight of unspoken expectations. A panel may open with thoughtful questions, but answers are filtered through a lens that was decided long before the interview began. The inquiry becomes confirmation. This is the slippage into what Lacan called the Master’s Discourse.

               S1 → S2
            ——————————————
               $     a

Let’s break it down:

  • S1 (Agent): A pre-set narrative drives the process, framed by ambiguous terms like “We want a culture fit” or “We want a strong leader”; labels that sound objective but conceal bias.
  • S2 (Other): Knowledge is enlisted not to explore, but to validate. Rubrics, scorecards, and assessments are used to back up the narrative; data is filtered to confirm what the panel already believes.
  • $ (Truth): Beneath it all is the divided subject: the panel’s own contradictions, politics, and fears; rarely acknowledged, but quietly driving interpretation.
  • a (Product): The result is not a diagnosis, but a feeling. A sense of familiarity, safety, reassurance. The candidate chosen is often the one who best reflects the internal culture—not the one best suited to the external challenge.

You’ve likely seen this happen:

  • A complex business problem is raised, then replaced by generic talk of “fit.”
  • Criteria bend subtly to match a gut feeling.
  • Candidates are selected not for how they think, but for how closely they resemble those already on the team.

The outcome? You don’t hire for capacity. You hire comfort. And comfort doesn’t build the future. It preserves the past. You end up with a hall of mirrors, not a team equipped to face what’s coming.

From Guesswork to Diagnosis: Five Practical Shifts

When I’m on the interviewing side, I try to hold the structure in Analyst mode, where it can actually reveal something useful. Here are five concrete moves that make the difference:

  1. Start with a hypothesis: Define what success in this role truly depends on. Is it clarity under uncertainty? Strategic thinking? Curiosity? Write it down—and test for it.
  2. Name the lack: Say the problem out loud. Every role exists because something’s broken or unknown. Invite the candidate to think with you.
  3. Use real samples, not hypotheticals: Give a document, a brief, a scenario. Let them engage. Don’t simulate; diagnose.
  4. Let them challenge the brief: The best candidates see what you didn’t. Their questions tell you more than their answers.
  5. Audit your subjectivity: Use diverse panels. Publish your rubric. Blind your first review of work samples. Don’t let “feels right” drive the decision.

An interview should be a meeting between a real problem and a real mind, not a puzzle game trying to get somebody that fits exactly into a shape.

Anchor the conversation in the Analyst’s Discourse (a → $, with S2 as truth), and you’ll uncover what actually matters: the specific capability your team needs next.

The goal is to move from the comfort of the Master to the clarity of the Analyst.

P.S.

For those curious about how I design these kinds of assessments; especially in soft domains like ambiguity tolerance, judgment, and communication style, I’ve shared a set of few diagnostic tools at lacanianonline.com.

One of them explores how people relate to structure: whether they challenge it, comply with it, reorganize it, or bypass it entirely. These aren’t personality “types” in the standard sense—they’re patterns of engagement with rules, contradiction, and uncertainty. What I call a person’s mental grammar for navigating complexity.

Understanding these patterns helps teams see beyond résumés. It reveals how someone might respond under stress, handle competing priorities, or interpret authority in ambiguous contexts.

In short: Knowing how someone thinks may matter more than where they were born, or where they’ve worked or studied.

And choosing only those who “resonate” with you (those who seem instantly familiar) can be a hidden liability. From Darwin onward, biology has shown that diversity builds resilience. A company where everyone thinks the same doesn’t just stagnate; it becomes fragile.

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