Probation Officer Interview Questions and Answers (2026)

At a letting agency, I missed a note in a tenant's file saying she had asked for repairs to be booked with a female contractor because of a past assault, and I booked a male contractor. When I realised, I rang her before the visit, apologised, rebooked and told my manager.

The note was on the second page of her file, and I had only read the summary because I was booking a lot of repairs that morning. I realised the next day while checking another job in the same building. I felt awful, because I could imagine how it would feel to open the door to a stranger after what she had been through. I rang her straight away and said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't read your note properly and I've booked a male contractor for Thursday. I'm changing it now.' She was quiet, then thanked me for telling her before he arrived. I rebooked with a female contractor and confirmed it in writing. Then I told my manager what had happened and suggested that notes like hers should appear in the summary, not further down, which was changed for every file. I learned to read the whole file before acting, especially when I'm busy, and that telling people about a mistake quickly matters as much as fixing it.

As a support worker in a hostel, I came on shift to find a resident threatening to hurt himself, a fire alarm fault and a new arrival waiting to be booked in. I dealt with the resident first, asked a colleague to ring the alarm company, asked the new arrival to wait, and updated my manager.

I could not do all three at once, so I asked myself which one could cause the most harm in the next ten minutes. The resident came first, because his safety was at risk. I sat with him in the office, listened, and followed our procedure, which meant calling the crisis team with him and staying until they had spoken to him. The alarm mattered too, so I asked a colleague to ring the company and walk round the building. I went out briefly to the new arrival, apologised and said, 'Someone needs me urgently. I'll be with you in half an hour, and here's a drink while you wait.' He was fine with that because he knew why. When the resident was settled and safe, I booked the new arrival in. I rang my manager at the end to tell her the order I had dealt with things and why, and she agreed with it. I learned that prioritising by risk is easier when I say it out loud, and that people accept waiting if they are told honestly.

As a mentor for a charity working with young people leaving care, I supported an eighteen-year-old who wanted to stop drinking every weekend but kept slipping back. Instead of lecturing, I helped him plan what to do on Friday nights instead, and we celebrated small wins. After three months he had cut down a lot.

He knew drinking was causing him trouble, because he had lost a job after missing two Monday shifts. But every Friday his friends came round and the plan went out of the window. At first I made the mistake of telling him what he should do, and he went quiet. So I changed approach and asked what he wanted his weekends to look like. He said he wanted to play football again. We found a Saturday morning team, which gave him a reason not to drink late on Friday, and agreed what he would say to his friends. He texted me after the first match. He had two bad weekends in the first month and expected me to be disappointed. I said that slipping back is part of changing, and asked what had been different on those nights. By the third month he was drinking far less and had a new job. I learned that change is rarely a straight line, and that people need someone who keeps believing in them while being honest about setbacks.

Working on reception at a housing advice centre, a man arrived shouting that we had made him homeless, and banged the counter. I kept my distance and my voice low, used his name, said I could see how desperate he was, and asked him to sit with me. He calmed down, and an adviser saw him that morning.

Other people in the waiting room looked frightened, and my colleague went to call security. I thought that might make him angrier, so I stayed behind the counter at a safe distance, made sure I could reach the door, and said, 'Mr Davies, I can see you're desperate. I want to help, and I can't do that while you're shouting. Can we sit over there and you can tell me what's happened?' He kept shouting for a minute, and I repeated it calmly. Then he sat down. He had received an eviction notice and thought we had sent it. I explained what the letter meant and that an adviser could help him respond. I asked an adviser to see him that morning and told her what had happened, so he did not have to start again. Afterwards I wrote an incident note and talked it through with my manager. I learned that staying calm and using someone's name gives them a way back down, and that I need to think about safety first, mine and other people's.

As a volunteer befriender, an older man I visited began asking me to come at weekends, lend him money and give him my home address. I liked him and knew he was lonely. I told him kindly what I could and could not do, told the coordinator, and helped him join a lunch club, which he loved.

Saying no felt cruel, because he had no family nearby and I was often the only person he spoke to all week. But if I lent him money or visited outside the scheme, he would depend on me in a way I could not keep up, and it would be unfair on the other people the scheme supported. I said, 'I really enjoy our visits, and I want to keep coming every Tuesday. I can't lend money or give out my address. That's the same for everyone, and it keeps these visits going.' He was hurt at first. I told the coordinator what he had asked, so it was on record and she could check whether he needed more support. Then I looked for ways to widen his week and found a lunch club near his flat, and I went with him the first time. A month later he told me about the friends he had made. I learned that a clear boundary, explained kindly, can protect a relationship rather than end it.

Treat it as a potential threat, however it is said. Challenge him calmly in the moment, record his exact words, tell my manager that day, and make sure the police and the person named are considered for protection. I would not accept 'I was joking' as the end of it.

I would say, 'That is not something I can let go. What do you mean by sorted out?' I'd listen to his explanation and watch his manner, but not accept 'just joking' as a reason to stop. I would record his exact words, the time and my observations as soon as the session ended. I'd speak to my manager straight away, because the information suggested a possible risk to a named person and a breach of his licence. We would consider whether to inform the police and the ex-partner, share the information through the proper channels and review his risk assessment and licence conditions, and possibly bring forward recall. I'd tell him what I was doing and why, in plain terms, at the next contact. If it did prove to be a joke, the cost of checking was small.

Find out what is happening before deciding. Contact him, ask what stopped him, check his story, such as with the bus fare, and look at his history and risk. Offer practical help, but be clear about the consequences. Record my reasoning, and escalate if I believe he is avoiding supervision.

After two missed appointments, I would phone him and visit if I couldn't reach him. I'd say, 'I've missed you twice. I want to understand what is going on.' He said he couldn't afford the fare. I did not simply accept or dismiss it. I checked whether he had money for travel, whether the other things he was telling me matched, and whether his behaviour had changed, like missing other commitments. I asked about the rest of his week. If it was genuine, I could look at phone appointments, a travel pass or a closer office. I'd also be clear that missing appointments without good reason could lead to a warning and that a third miss would be taken more seriously. I would record my conversation and my reasoning, and discuss it with my manager if I was concerned.

Decline kindly and clearly. Tell him I'm glad the relationship feels useful but I can't share a personal number, and explain how to reach me or the service out of hours. Then tell my manager and record it. Dependence on one worker can be a risk, and so can manipulation.

I would say, 'I'm pleased that you feel able to talk to me. I can't give you my personal number, that's the same for everyone I work with. If you need help out of hours, here are the numbers you can ring.' I would not apologise too much or make it a big moment. After he left, I'd record the request and my reply and tell my supervisor. It might mean he is isolated and depends on me, in which case I would work with him to build other supports, like a mentor, a peer group or a GP. It might also mean he is testing boundaries. In either case, reflecting on it in supervision would help me spot whether I had been drawn into a relationship that was too close. I would keep our sessions focused and fair.

Never promise secrecy. Tell him at the start that I'll keep things private unless someone is at risk of harm, in which case I must share it. If he tells me something serious, I explain this, share it with my manager and the right agency, and tell him what I'm doing.

I would say before he told me, 'I'll keep what you tell me private, unless I think you or someone else is at risk of serious harm. Then I have to pass it on.' If he asked me to promise, I would say, 'I can't promise that, and I wouldn't want to promise something I can't keep.' If he then told me something that suggested another person was at risk, I would thank him for telling me. I'd explain whom I would tell and why. Afterwards I would speak to my manager, record what he said exactly, and share the information with the police or children's services, in line with the law and our information sharing agreements. I would keep it to what was necessary, and I would keep working with him as normally as possible.