One of the absolute favorite jobs of my life was working for Volvo Construction Equipment. I was brought on board to help drive an ambitious Volvo Group web project, a role that saw me traveling across Europe, heading over to Brazil, and jetting into the United States. I loved the projects, the travel, and above all, the incredible people I worked with.
Yet the entire trajectory of that chapter could easily have never happened at all. In reality, it all hinged on a single, high-stakes split-second decision made over an empty table.
My interview was scheduled in a tiny town just outside Cambridge. I caught the morning train up from London and met with Mats and Caroline, two brilliant individuals who would go on to become cherished colleagues. The formal part of the interview went smoothly enough—the scope sounded exciting, I expressed enthusiastic interest, and we wrapped things up on a positive note.
Then came the unexpected second stage.
"Would you like to join us for lunch down the road?" they asked.
A few minutes later, we were settled into a gorgeous 1660 English pub called The John Barleycorn a few blocks away, joined by several other team members. The conversation was warm, relaxed, and full of lively banter. Then the waitress arrived at our table, notepad in hand.
"Can I get you all something to drink before lunch?" she asked.
Mats turned to me, fixed me with an attentive look, and said, "What would you like to drink, Graeme?"
In an instant, the lively chatter vanished. A sudden, palpable hush descended over the table as every set of eyes turned directly toward me.
My internal alarm bells started ringing. What is the protocol here? This was a middle-of-the-day corporate interview lunch. Was it a trap to see if I was overly casual during business hours, or a test of social ease? I wasn’t even a big beer drinker to begin with.
Caught in the crosshairs of professional etiquette and workplace ambiguity, I threw caution to the wind and said, "I'll have a beer, please."
Instantly, the tension broke like a snapped wire. A collective wave of relief swept across the table, the noise returned at full volume, and every single person promptly chimed in: "I'll have a pint as well!"
We had a fantastic meal, the rapport was effortless, and a few days later, the formal job offer arrived in my inbox.
Once I started, I quickly discovered that after-work pints and pub culture were central pillars of team life. As it turned out, that sudden hush in the pub wasn't an accident—Mats offering me the first drink order was very much the decisive final test of the interview. As qualified as I was on paper for the role, had I played it safe and answered with a polite "I'll just have a lemonade, thanks," I am fairly certain I would have caught the train back to London empty-handed.
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| The John Barleycorn where we had lunch |
