Thursday, 16 June 2011


I have been putting off writing because this will be my 100 post.  That seemed momentous and so I wanted the post to be momentous as well.  But let’s be honest.  It’s just a number.  Just like my weight, which has stayed the same for the last five weeks, is just a number.  I have a tendency to want things to align in some meaningful way.  But let’s be honest, it’s better when things align on their own than when you force them.  So I’m giving in and writing and it may or may not be a good post. 
Today I had an interview.  I haven’t had an interview for about seven years.  I was nervous to say the least.  I picked out my outfit on Monday.  I watched the forecast all week.  Monday through Wednesday was gorgeous.  This morning it was pissing it down.  Great.
I got dressed, did my hair and makeup.  As an aside, I realize that getting up and doing my hair and make-up everyday is actually practice for when I actually have to look presentable.  It takes the stress out of it when it counts.  Amazing, right? I go on.  I kept my tidy cardigan in my purse (so I wouldn’t sweat under my rain mac) and wore big clogs (to keep myself out of the water), my cute heels in a bag.  I had my rain hat and umbrella.  I was fully prepared.  I had planned enough time (triple the travel time) to get to there and make a stop in the restroom to change.  Here’s what actually happened.
 Public transport was working slow, due to rain.  Because, you know, rain in London is a rarity and they haven’t quite figured out how to deal with it yet.  So by the time I got to the interview building I only had about 10 minutes before the interview was about to start.  There was no one at the reception desk and no signs.  The only direction I had received from the interviewers was to report to so-and-so in room ___.  So I decided to head up to the room.  A nice woman noticed I was looking a bit lost and pointed me the way.  But when I stepped off the elevator I found myself stuck between two security doors.  Hmmm.  The only phone number I had was a general HR number.  I had no other option.  I called and said I was stuck.  They said they would send someone to fetch me.  Then they asked me the colour of the walls.  What??!! 
It was getting really late now.  I still had to change my shoes and put on my cardigan and check the hair and make-up after the rain-soaked journey.  So I decided to change in the hall between the security doors.  The shoes were very clunky and I was wearing bright white socks with them.  Not the first impression I was going for.  As I was pulling on the cardigan, my coat and bags in a pile around my feet, a lovely secretary came to my rescue. 
From there, things went fairly smoothly.  The interview was okay.  It was all very proper and official for a one-day-a-week-for-seven-months job.  A three person panel, at the end of a long room.  One woman was very warm and engaging, a man that had a very straight face, although did smile a few times, and another woman that didn’t say much and was a bit fidgety and distracted.  Either I wasn’t engaging or she way dying for the loo.  She did rush out behind me, so maybe it was the loo.
As I was heading out, the next candidate was waiting in a three-piece suit.  A bit of an over-kill I thought, but then maybe I under-killed it.  Time will tell.  By the way, by the time I got home (30 minutes later) it had stopped raining and the sun was out.  Nice timing.
I came home and attempted a cheesecake, baked in water.  But that’s another story. 
So not momentous, but fairly typical. 

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