So I went to the interview this morning. I was nervous as hell… from last night.
I obsessively prepared, pressing all my clothes last night and doing up my hair in a curly do… checking and rechecking my briefcase to make sure I had everything: umbrella, clothes brush, travel card, supporting documents, keys, purse, train map….
Last night I had trouble falling asleep… I kept rehearsing in my head what I was going to say in the interview. Then after I finally fell asleep I had a nightmare, in which I was obsessing about being late, so much so I was late for the interview, and the agency dude met me before the interview and told me that because I was late they didn’t want to see me, and obviously I didn’t get the job. I burst into tears, because this job literally meant whether or not I’d have to go back to the Caribbean with my tail between my legs.
When I woke up this morning I was utterly calm and serene, fifteen minutes before the alarm and was quite fine until I got close to Victoria station. Then I started to shake a little.
I was way too early, as is my habit… I was meeting the agency guy before the interview for a chat. I was most surprised when he showed up. Mostly because I was sure he was white, and in my dream he was white, but no, it was a beautifully bald, cute as ass brother before me, turned out to a ‘T’. Nice suit, clean shave… but you know, I only registered it peripherally.
He was lovely. He took me for a cup of coffee, and amazingly…. I calmed down a lot just by having him there to buffer me.
He walked me to the door of the building, and I walked into the now familiar building (had been there last year when I first came up to England) I was still nervous, but a lot less so. I kept forgetting the woman I was meeting for the interview. (Terrible!) It might have been that he was cute too.
He told me he might have another idea for sending my CV… if this one doesn’t work out. When he told me from who, I nearly fell off my chair. One of my torch singers… lawd. Lawd.
Rather than the one person I was expecting, it was three… which was only slightly unnerving. I think it went okay. I think I did okay on the questions, and they smiled at me a lot, but then we from the Caribbean know the difference between skin teet, and smiles. I asked some very solid questions about how I would fit in with the organisation, and what opportunities there were for growth and advancement. There was a test, and I hate tests… I always suck if I don’t prepare. Also, I have my own system of marks for proofing, and you know, I don’t know if they’ll be able to read my marks. :sigh:
It isn’t that it was easier to get a job in the Caribbean, there just wasn’t as much palaver involved, and I rarely had to show a CV. There just wasn’t as much hoop and jump involved.
It was okay. I can’t tell you how I did, just that I felt okay. My voice shook a little, and I did my best to steady it. I was nervous, but I put on a brave face. (Girl Guides are brave and cheerful in every situation.) Yet, I never, ever know how to gauge these interviews. They smile, but I can never tell if they ever like me enough to give me in the work.
I take comfort that I am the only one that they wanted to see from the agency that sent me. That is at least something good. Gad oi! Now I am even more nervous because I have to wait to know…. and you know, my heart hates suspense.
I have these panicky moments. I left a comment in stepcorrect‘s journal, identifying with her declaration: “I REALLY need a job and I REALLY need a tech job.” I am so there with you girl.
So I am here, just on the verge of breaking into nervous shivering… shaky… hoping against hope that I get this gig. I want to tell you that this is the one I want the most, it’s like it’s tailor-made for me, but you know I might have said that before and I don’t want anyone to hold me to it.
:sigh: This is the part I hate the most, all this infernal waiting!!