Frightmare
The day of the interview arrived, as days do. The night before, as I left the office, my boss - soon to be ex-boss - assured me that the only way I could fail to get the job was if I 'stupidly cock up'. 'Like you did', some wag offered, to general laughter.
'Stupidly cock up', I repeated as I walked out of the door, as though it was going to become a mantra.
I arrived ridiculously early. On my way to the toilet I managed to get lost, and was directed there by someone who, when I swivelled round to thank her, turned out to be the new director. There she was, the instigator of all this! It was not a good omen. It was like she was already assigning me a place in the restructure. At least she didn't hand me a brush.
The interview was a weird experience. The questions were so long and complex and expressed in such stilted, formal English that they might as well have been in some strange futuristic tongue; neither did many of them seem to relate to the job in hand. It hardly helped that I already knew one of the interview panel - in fact, it made the experience all the more peculiar. The closest analogy I can come up with is being abducted by aliens. Although without the anal probes (as far as I can remember, anyway - I'm still having flashbacks).
And then it was over, and could be consigned to that dark place in the mind reserved for traumas of this kind. For a while at least, until memories start thrusting themselves like daggers into your consciousness as you lay awake fretting. Did I really say that? Did I really take my trousers off? What point was I trying to make?
Despite all this I have got the job. My reward? To continue to sit in the seat I have occupied for the last six months, doing all the same stuff, but slightly more of it. Everyone else from the office who was interviewed that day got their jobs too. It is as though there never was anything to worry about in the first place. But part of me wonders if we really are the same people as we were before we went into that interview room. I have these strange thoughts...
The thing to do is just remind myself of what I'm here for, as it's written in the revised job spec: 'ensuring the continued supply of fresh human blood to the beings beyond Alpha Centauri'. If that doesn't inspire me, what will?
'Stupidly cock up', I repeated as I walked out of the door, as though it was going to become a mantra.
I arrived ridiculously early. On my way to the toilet I managed to get lost, and was directed there by someone who, when I swivelled round to thank her, turned out to be the new director. There she was, the instigator of all this! It was not a good omen. It was like she was already assigning me a place in the restructure. At least she didn't hand me a brush.
The interview was a weird experience. The questions were so long and complex and expressed in such stilted, formal English that they might as well have been in some strange futuristic tongue; neither did many of them seem to relate to the job in hand. It hardly helped that I already knew one of the interview panel - in fact, it made the experience all the more peculiar. The closest analogy I can come up with is being abducted by aliens. Although without the anal probes (as far as I can remember, anyway - I'm still having flashbacks).
And then it was over, and could be consigned to that dark place in the mind reserved for traumas of this kind. For a while at least, until memories start thrusting themselves like daggers into your consciousness as you lay awake fretting. Did I really say that? Did I really take my trousers off? What point was I trying to make?
Despite all this I have got the job. My reward? To continue to sit in the seat I have occupied for the last six months, doing all the same stuff, but slightly more of it. Everyone else from the office who was interviewed that day got their jobs too. It is as though there never was anything to worry about in the first place. But part of me wonders if we really are the same people as we were before we went into that interview room. I have these strange thoughts...
The thing to do is just remind myself of what I'm here for, as it's written in the revised job spec: 'ensuring the continued supply of fresh human blood to the beings beyond Alpha Centauri'. If that doesn't inspire me, what will?
posted by martin at 12:39 PM
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