A 5-Week Frontend Interview Journey: What Hiring Processes Reveal

The Story

It started with a LinkedIn message that felt different from the usual recruiter spam. One of the company's cofounders had taken the time to look at my profile and explained why she thought I'd be a good fit for their Frontend Developer role. The personal touch was refreshing. After years of generic "your profile caught our attention" messages, this felt genuine.

The company was a European tech recruitment platform connecting developers with opportunities in Switzerland. They were looking for someone to own their frontend architecture, someone who could make decisions, optimize performance, and shape the user experience for hundreds of thousands of users. The role description painted a picture of autonomy, technical leadership, and real impact. It spoke directly to senior developers who wanted ownership, not just ticket-takers who needed constant direction.

I was interested. The stack was modern React, Next.js, TypeScript and the problems seemed meaningful. We scheduled an initial 45 min call via Whatsapp and she told me that I'd get a follow-up email within a day or two.

Indeed, the follow-up email came and we scheduled a meeting for the next week.

The First Conversation

The CTO was friendly and knowledgeable. We talked about frontend architecture, performance optimization, and the challenges of building at scale. He walked me through their technical vision and the role I'd play in executing it. The conversation felt collaborative, like we were already exploring solutions together rather than him simply interviewing me.

We agreed to move forward with a technical assessment. I was prepared to receive the coding challenge the next day, but when nothing arrived, I followed up after a couple of hours. The response came with an apology there had been a mix-up, and the instructions had been sent to the wrong candidate.

The Coding Challenge That Raised Questions

This is where things started to feel unusual. The task wasn't a generic algorithmic problem or a abstract component-building exercise. It was to rework their jobs search page and enhance it essentially, a simplified version of their actual product.

The requirements were specific: job listings from their API, filtering capabilities, search functionality, proper state management, and responsive design. They even provided some XML data feeds. I was essentially building a production-ready version of their core feature.

Now, I want to pause here because this is important for any frontend developer reading this. When a coding challenge asks you to build something that directly solves the company's real business problem, you should ask yourself some questions. Is this a legitimate assessment of your skills, or are they crowdsourcing solutions to their technical challenges? Are they interviewing multiple candidates with the same task, collecting different approaches to their actual product features?

I decided to treat it professionally anyway. If this was legitimate, I wanted to demonstrate my capabilities. If it wasn't, at least I'd have a portfolio piece. I spent the roughly four hours they suggested, plus some extra time to ensure the quality matched what I'd deliver in a real job. I focused on clean architecture, performance optimization, accessibility, and user experience details that often get overlooked in rushed interview projects.

The implementation included proper error handling, loading states, debounced search, optimized filtering logic, and careful attention to responsiveness. I deployed it to Vercel and created a private GitHub repository an added both the CTO and the fullstack developer, documenting my architectural decisions and thought process in the README.

The Waiting Game Begins

After submitting the challenge, I received positive feedback. They wanted to move forward with a technical debrief with their fullstack developer to discuss my code and do some live problem-solving.

I suggested a one-hour session, thinking it would be sufficient to walk through the implementation. They insisted they needed 90 minutes. The agenda wasn't just reviewing the challenge but also additional Q&A and live coding exercises. When I proposed a shorter initial session due to a Friday scheduling conflict with Jumu'ah prayer, they preferred to reschedule entirely to ensure they had the full time they needed.

When we finally had the technical debrief, it went well. We walked through my architectural decisions, discussed trade-offs, and worked through live coding scenarios. The fullstack developer seemed engaged and asked thoughtful questions.

Five days passed with no word. I sent a straightforward follow-up email asking about next steps after our technical interview. Silence.

After waiting another week with no response, I made a decision. Nearly a month had passed since my initial conversation. I'd completed their challenge, waited through scheduling confusion, had what seemed like a successful technical interview, but heard nothing about moving forward.

I sent what I thought would be my final email. I thanked them for the opportunity, noted that I'd been punctual and prepared throughout the process, and mentioned that a simple confirmation either way would have been more professional. I also let them know I planned to open-source my coding challenge for my portfolio.

Seven minutes later, a response arrived.

The CTO apologized. He'd been about to send me a reply when my email came through. He acknowledged the delays weren't typical of their process. The hiring had been "exceptionally challenging due to lower availability from the people involved and the other candidates competing alongside you."

The technical feedback was positive. They were happy with my code quality, attention to detail, and user-centric approach. Then came the part I didn't expect: they wanted to continue. Would I be open to moving forward with a cultural fit interview?

After a month of delays and mixed signals, part of me wondered if I should walk away. But I'd invested significant time, the technical feedback was strong, and they seemed genuinely apologetic about the process issues. I agreed to continue, asking only that the remaining steps proceed within a clear and reasonable timeframe.

The Cultural Interview

The meeting finally happened, split into two parts. The first session was with their fullstack developer and someone from marketing. The second brought in both founders.

We covered a range of topics. They asked about my interests, what I do in my free time, and projects I'd worked on. They shared the story of how they founded the company and what drove them to build it. The conversation felt open and wide-ranging.

Then came questions that felt different. Psychological scenarios: "What would you do if you found 10,000 euros on the street?" "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

I answered directly and concisely. I don't tend to elaborate unnecessarily or perform for questions like these. I give honest, straightforward answers. Looking back, I wonder if that directness was interpreted as something else. When you're expecting someone to paint a picture or tell a story, a straight answer can feel abrupt. Maybe it came across as guarded. Maybe they saw it as evasive when I intended it as honest.

The conversation continued. We discussed technical approaches, team dynamics, how they work remotely. It all seemed constructive.

Near the end, they asked if I had any questions for them. I had two. First, why did they specifically recruit remote employees? And second, I asked for their honest feedback about any concerns or reservations they had about me as a candidate. I explained that I value transparency and would rather know about potential misalignments early. Growth comes from understanding how others perceive you, even when that perception might be uncomfortable.

They seemed to appreciate the directness of the question. One of the founders said they'd discuss internally and provide comprehensive feedback either way. The meeting ended cordially. I felt it had been productive, even if the outcome was uncertain.

A week of silence followed.

The Rejection That Didn't Make Sense

A week later, the feedback arrived in a long, detailed email. The CTO thanked me for my patience throughout the process and acknowledged the delays and confusion. He wanted to give me complete transparency about their decision.

On the technical side, the feedback was glowing. My coding skills were among the strongest they'd evaluated. I demonstrated excellent understanding of performance optimization, clean architecture, and user-centric design. The attention to detail in my work was exactly what they were looking for. Technically, I was a top-tier candidate.

However, they had concerns about cultural fit. During the interview, I came across as someone who might be difficult to read. There was a sense that I could be over-confident, perhaps not easy to convince when I had strong opinions. They worried this might make me challenging to manage or resistant to feedback. Given that they were building a culture of trust and open collaboration, they felt these concerns were significant enough that they couldn't move forward.

I sat with this feedback for a while, trying to understand it objectively. The irony wasn't lost on me the same confidence and ownership the job description explicitly required were now being framed as potential problems. The concern about accepting criticism seemed particularly contradictory given that I'd directly asked for critical feedback during the interview.

But there was something deeper here, something that went beyond this specific rejection. It pointed to a tension that exists in many hiring processes, especially for senior technical roles.

The Disconnect Between What Companies Say and What They Want

Companies often write job descriptions that call for senior developers who can take ownership, make independent decisions, and drive technical direction. They want people who won't just execute tasks but will push back when something doesn't make sense, who will advocate for better approaches, who will take responsibility for outcomes.

These qualities require confidence. They require the willingness to say "I think we should do this differently" even when others disagree. They require the conviction to defend your technical decisions while remaining open to being wrong.

But here's what I've learned: many companies struggle with the reality of what that actually looks like in practice. The confidence that sounds appealing in a job description can feel uncomfortable in a real conversation. The ownership they claim to want can come across as pushback they don't expect. The independent thinking they say they value can seem like resistance when it challenges existing assumptions.

Neither approach is wrong some companies genuinely want strong technical voices, while others prefer alignment and consensus. The problem is when there's a mismatch between what's written and what's actually valued.

The Red Flags I Should Have Noticed

Looking back with clearer eyes, there were warning signs throughout this process that I rationalized away in the moment.

The coding challenge that asked me to build their actual product feature should have been the first red flag. When companies ask candidates to solve their real business problems, you have to wonder: are they assessing skills, or are they collecting free work? If they're interviewing five candidates with the same challenge, they're essentially getting five different implementations of a feature they need built. That's not an assessment that's outsourcing development under the guise of hiring.

The organizational confusion was another signal. Mix-ups happen, but when the same confusion happens multiple times with contradictory explanations, it suggests deeper issues with internal communication and process management. If they can't keep track of their own interview process, how will they manage actual product development?

The constant rescheduling showed where I ranked in their priorities. When something is important, you find time for it. When every scheduled conversation gets bumped for something else, it tells you that this process and by extension, you isn't actually that important to them.

What This Means for Other Developers

If you're a frontend developer navigating interview processes, especially for remote positions with European companies or startups, here's what I'd want you to know.

First, be cautious of technical challenges that ask you to build the company's actual product. A legitimate coding challenge tests your problem-solving skills, code quality, and technical thinking. It doesn't need to solve their real business problem to do that. If the challenge feels like actual feature development using their production data, ask questions. Who owns the code you write? Are they interviewing multiple candidates with the same task? How is this different from the work you'd do if hired?

Second, pay attention to how companies handle the process itself. Delays happen, schedules change, and mistakes occur but the pattern matters. If you're constantly adjusting your schedule while they struggle to manage theirs, if communications are confused and contradictory, if feedback takes weeks when they promised days, these are signals about how they operate. The interview process is the most polished version of a company you'll see. If it's disorganized now, it won't improve after you're hired.

Third, notice the gap between job descriptions and actual conversations. When a role asks for autonomy but the interview questions seem nervous about independence, when they want ownership but seem uncomfortable with conviction, when they claim to value strong technical opinions but react negatively to yours pay attention to that disconnect. It's showing you the real culture beneath the marketing language.

Fourth, trust your instincts about what you're worth. If a company consistently undervalues your work whether through salary offers that don't match the responsibility, processes that waste your time without respect for it, or feedback that contradicts itself believe what they're showing you, not what they're saying.

The Broader Pattern

This experience isn't unique to this one company. It's part of a larger pattern in tech hiring, especially in the current market where companies have more leverage and developers have fewer options than we did a few years ago.

Some companies have learned that they can get significant value from interview processes. They can collect multiple solutions to technical problems they're facing. They can test product ideas with minimal investment. They can evaluate different approaches to features they need to build. And if they frame it as "assessing candidate skills," most developers will do high-quality work for free, grateful for the opportunity.

This isn't to say every detailed coding challenge is exploitative. Many companies genuinely want to assess real-world skills and give candidates opportunities to showcase their abilities. But the line between legitimate assessment and free labor is worth thinking about, especially when the challenge directly serves the company's immediate business needs.

The cultural fit rejection is also part of a pattern. It's the easiest rejection to give because it's subjective and hard to dispute. You can't argue with "you weren't the right cultural fit" the way you might push back on "your technical skills weren't strong enough." It's a catch-all that often masks other reasons budget constraints, internal disagreements, or simply changing priorities.

What I Learned About Myself

Despite the frustration of investing five weeks into a process that went nowhere, I learned valuable things that will shape how I approach opportunities going forward.

I learned that I need to be more discerning about which processes I invest in. Not every opportunity deserves weeks of my time, especially when red flags appear early. My time has value, and I should protect it accordingly.

I learned that I need to be clearer about my non-negotiables upfront. Compensation, communication expectations, and process timeline should be discussed early, not discovered through frustration later.

I learned that my directness and confidence, which I've always seen as strengths, can be perceived differently depending on the audience. That doesn't mean I need to change who I am, but it does mean I need to be more thoughtful about where those qualities will be valued versus where they'll be seen as problems.

Most importantly, I learned that a rejection can be a gift. It's clarity about a situation that wouldn't have worked. It's protection from investing even more time in the wrong fit. It's permission to move forward toward something better aligned.

Moving Forward

The tech industry loves to talk about cultural fit, but what we often mean is cultural comfort. We're comfortable with people who communicate like us, who share our working style, who don't challenge us in ways that feel threatening. That's natural, but it's also limiting.

Companies that truly want innovation, diverse thinking, and senior-level ownership need to get comfortable with the discomfort that comes with those things. They need to be able to distinguish between confidence and arrogance, between conviction and rigidity, between pushing back and being difficult.

Developers, on the other hand, need to be realistic about what companies actually want versus what they say they want. We need to watch for the signs of misalignment and respect ourselves enough to walk away when we see them.

As for me, this process clarified what I'm looking for. I want to work with teams that value directness, that see feedback as a tool for growth rather than criticism to defend against, and that match their words with their actions. I want roles where the compensation reflects the responsibility, where the interview process demonstrates respect for my time, and where organizational confusion is the exception rather than the pattern.

Sometimes the right outcome isn't an offer. Sometimes it's the clarity to recognize what you're avoiding.

This process gave me that clarity, and for that, I'm genuinely grateful.

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If you're going through similar experiences, remember: your skills have value, your time has worth, and no single opportunity defines your career. Keep building, keep learning, and keep looking for the places that deserve what you bring to the table.