Recently, I attended a job interview that left me feeling uncomfortable, frustrated and, ultimately, certain that I didn’t want the job.
As a deaf person, I had disclosed my deafness during the application process. This wasn’t new information. They knew in advance that I would need communication support for the interview.
Yet when I arrived, there was no professional interpreter. Instead, they had arranged for a member of staff who could sign to interpret for me.
Maybe you think that sounds helpful. Someone who signs is better than nothing, right? But in reality, it raised immediate concerns for me.
What was strange for me was how the employee acting as interpreter was someone I would potentially be working alongside if I got the job. That immediately created questions around confidentiality, impartiality and professionalism.
How could I speak openly about my strengths, weaknesses, or anything personal to the role, knowing a future colleague was relaying everything?
Most importantly, why was this decision made for me? What were my options at that moment? To turn around and leave? To refuse to take part? Standing there in person, with everyone expecting the interview to begin, I didn’t feel able to say no.
Had I been told beforehand, I would have explained that I deserved a professional interpreter. I would have had choice. Instead, the choice was removed.
The interview itself felt strange from the start. As the manager asked questions, they barely looked at me. They didn’t really engage with me at all. Everything was directed through the staff member interpreting. When I signed my answers, they were voiced by her.
The manager kept their head down, writing notes. There was little eye contact, little attempt to connect with me directly as a person. I felt invisible.
Anyone familiar with deaf awareness understands that even with an interpreter present, you still speak directly to the deaf person. You look at them. You engage with them. The conversation belongs to them.
That didn’t happen here. Instead, I felt like an observer in my own interview.
Another issue kept nagging at me throughout: how did I know I was actually being interpreted correctly? I didn’t.
I had never met this employee before. I had no idea what level of sign language she had, how much experience she had, or whether she fully understood everything I was signing.
I had to trust that my answers were being conveyed accurately, but I had no way of knowing if details were being missed, changed or oversimplified. Equally, I couldn’t be sure I was receiving the manager’s questions exactly as intended.
Professional interpreters are trained, qualified and bound by strict codes of conduct around accuracy and confidentiality. That is what makes them interpreters. Knowing some sign language is not the same thing.
At one point, I later learned this person had a deaf relative, which is why they decided to use her to sign. But having a deaf relative does not make someone a qualified interpreter.
Being able to communicate in sign language and being able to interpret professionally are two very different things.
When I asked whether interpreters are used in staff meetings, I was told they can be booked if needed. If that’s the case, why wasn’t one booked for the interview?
I also asked about deaf awareness, as I would have been the only deaf employee. I was told all staff receive regular training and basic sign language.
Yet the manager couldn’t even introduce themselves in BSL or make any visible attempt to communicate with me directly.
I was also told that most of the time I would work alongside another member of staff who would act as my “ears” when dealing with clients.
Rather than thinking about accessibility and independence, the approach seemed to be built around workarounds.
Someone else would interpret. Someone else would listen. Someone else would fill the gaps. My deafness was being treated as something to manage, rather than something to accommodate properly.
Ironically, they were aware of Access to Work and funding support for interpreters if I were successful. Yet they still couldn’t be bothered to arrange appropriate access for the interview itself. That told me everything.
A few days later, they offered me the job. But I had already decided in that room that I couldn’t work there.
I have attended interviews before where interpreters have cancelled or failed to turn up and everyone has done their best to adapt.
But this was different. Maybe they thought they were being helpful! Saving money, perhaps. But what it actually showed me was a lack of understanding, poor inclusion and a disregard for my rights.
Because if an employer doesn’t think your access needs are important at interview stage, why would you trust them to respect them once you’re employed?
Access shouldn’t be an afterthought. And it certainly shouldn’t begin only after you’ve been offered the job.
This blog has been written anonymously as part of the Insight series – created by Assistant editor Rebecca A Withey.
If you have a story, experience or viewpoint you would like to anonymously share please email Rebecca on rebecca@rawithey.com
Image courtesy of Pexels.















Posted on June 23, 2026 by Rebecca A Withey
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