Last week I went for my first job interview since finishing my degree. And suffice it to say – bloody hell. Perhaps it’s three years of learning about semiotics and moral panics, maybe it’s working at gair rhydd or just maybe it’s something to do with Fun Factory and £1.19 doubles at Metros, but I’d forgotten how terrifying the prospect of talking to someone for a short while could be.
It was for a temporary contract as a sous chef at a centre in Banff to earn some cash towards buying a round-the-world ticket. Hardly a life-changing job, but one I was determined to get.
After catching a disgustingly early Megabus to the fair city, and feeling like the poverty-stricken candidate in the opening credits of The Apprentice (yes I’m plugging The Apprentice again, get over it), the first dilemma I faced was finding the place.
I’m the first to admit, I have a fairly feeble sense of direction, but as long as I have a map, I’m invincible. Whether it’s a primitive biro scribble on a napkin or a quality Ordinance Survey beast, I can circumnavigate the universe. Thus, with the two most recurring things in London being Starbucks outlets and tube maps, I made it to Farringdon Station in no time.
The problems began as I emerged from the stuffy, subterranean map paradise. I knew the building I wanted was off Farringdon Road, so I had a choice of right or left. Fifty fifty. Of course I chose wrong. It took me half an hour to realise, by which time, I was outside St Paul’s Cathedral. But there was no need to panic. I’d taken such an eventuality into consideration, and a quick call to my sister at work with access to GoogleMaps soon put me right.
I arrived with plenty of time to spare, though a little perturbed to find my destination lay in sight of The Guardian offices. After three years studying for a degree in Journalism, and with The Guardian easily my paper of choice, I couldn’t help but think some higher power was having a laugh. Fortunately, a pub was also located opposite, and a quick (extortionately-priced) pint, although probably not the most sensible thing to consume before an interview, soon abated my paranoia.
Fifteen minutes to go and I was finally in the building. Suddenly all the previous interviews I’d ever had came back to me. Sweaty palms. Repetitive strain injury from looking at my watch. Close scrutiny of all who stepped through the door, weighing up potential rivals and if I should challenge them to a pre-interview duel… To make myself look committed-but-casual (because I’m sure interviewers always secretly video-record waiting interviewees), I picked up a book about low-cost living in Canada and read about important matters such as where to find the cheapest hostels and the best maple syrup.
“Mr Millward?” The woman didn’t actually say, ‘we’re ready for you now’, but I was reading between the lines; or the two words…
After a staircase which would have been adequate for training for Everest, the interview began. Twenty minutes later, despite having forgotten most of the soundbite answers I’d prepared, it was going surprisingly well.
The interviewer was laughing (with me, not at me, I hoped), I’d managed to tell her what I had to offer, hobbies and my sister emigrating there. Eye contact was just about right – not too aggressive-psycho, but not too shy-social-outcast. Best of all, she hadn’t asked for a breathalyser test. On the negative side, I noticed I kept saying ‘Brilliant’ a lot in response to her spiel.
An employee gym? Brilliant. With a climbing wall, you say? Brilliant. Special ski deals? Brilliant. A ten-minute walk from Banff city centre? Brilliant. Stop saying that bloody word, I screamed at myself, as it spilled out of my mouth another 50 times. Who’d have thought such an innocuous, positive word was going to be the thing that cost me a job?
Which is why – for no reason relating to the earlier pint – I almost fell off my chair when she pulled out a contract. Brilliant!
So don’t get too stressed out about job interviews, folks. Remember, the employer can read about your qualifications on your CV; interviews are the time to sell yourself, and in my case, make myself sound like an idiot with a one-word vocabulary. Just remember, don’t do anything embarrassing in the waiting room – they’re watching, I tells you. Above all else, don’t forget to take a map.
