It's a funny thing when you get an interview for a job you don't want. This is what happened to me last week. Whilst I didn't want the job, I was told it would be worthwhile "Interview experience." So, I attended.
It was for a role within H.R (or personnel to the over 40) therefore it wasn't the usual kind of interview. It was two a pronged affair.
The first interview wasn't so much an interview, more of an "assessment".
So, I turned up ready to be assessed, but it soon became apparent I wasn't alone, 2 other people turned up. They were both as surprised to find the three of us there as I was and what started as a one to one assessment in our minds, soon turned into a fucking exam.
We were given pencils, work books and an assessor from HR who sat there with a stopwatch. I was hoping it would be my GCSE History exam again, only this time I could not be solely looking at the girl in front of me's bazzams and concentrate on World War One, which is probably where it went wrong. The exam, not the war.
The assessment comprised of two parts. The first part was a verbal exercise, which was a big book full of written, highly ambiguous, statements, which questions would later be derived from. I had to keep re-reading these highly fucking dull and pointless paragraphs to get the answers, to say it was taxing for ten o clock in the morning was an understatement, cocksuckers.
The second part was an "In-tray exercise" which consisted of a huge itinerary that you had to squeeze into a tiny time frame in order of priority. We were given twenty minutes to do this and it suddenly felt very stressful. Fuck this, I thought, I don't even want this arsing job.
I scrawled out my ideas as best I could, which on later inspection looked like it had been written by the killer from Se7en.
It has been many years since I have had to use a pencil to anything other than chew or snap to show my vast strength to impress a lady.
So, I handed in my "in-tray exercise" and wandered out contemplating if I should be disappointed in myself for scrawling my agenda like I was being held at gun point and probably ruining my job chances, or happy that I have the hand writing (well, rushed pencil hand writing) of an elderly doctor, which has probably ruined my chances. Either way, I win, I thought. I then spent the rest of the day telling anyone who would listen that I didn't want the job anyway, and tried to forget about it all.
I must re-emphasise. I am not just saying I don't want the job to seem macho or like some sex machine from the future, I genuinely don't want this job. So, it was a strange emotion to wrestle with. If I don't hear anything, is this a slight on me? Am I not very good? Should I reevaluate my abilities? I did entertain these thoughts briefly, then I wedged a sound "fuck it" in their direction and they soon buggered off.
I was half way to not caring when I got an email. I had been invited to a formal interview. I suddenly started to feel very clever and great when I told everyone who cared, "Yea, so I have an interview now, still don't want it, but you know, it's all experience."
It was only when I got home that I started to ruminate on the "in tray exercise." There is just no way that having seen that that they thought I would be a suitable candidate, it was all over the place, with interesting side tangents about moving meetings and checking diaries, stuff that even when I was writing it down I was open eyed and appalled that I was scrawling it. This is fucking shit, I thought, but then again, I don't want the job, so who cares. It's not like I will get an interview off of the back of this. Well, it is actually, so who is the mentalist here? Me? Or the HR department?
Well, the following day I attended my formal interview. It will take more than an interview for a job I don't want to shake me up, I thought to myself as I walked into that room to face my two interviewers.
I was very confident, cocky some would say. Then, the first question came my way, and my brain left the building. Fuck, I thought, my mind has gone blank. Say anything you twat, I then panicked. I blurted out some shit and then had to watch in horror as one of them wrote this all down. This continued for the duration of the interview. I said some great stuff, used some great long words, some great management speak and some fantastic hand gestures occurred. Sadly, I also talked shit and on a few occasions, which ever one was writing at that time, had to throw in a "thank you" when I was mid sentence, a polite way of saying, shut the fuck up now.
So, by the end of this ordeal I felt quite comfortable and when they threw curve balls at me like, "How do you feel your day will change when you are in HR?" I coped and answered in a quite considered manor I thought. The kind of answers where you actually think, wow, I cant believe I just said that. Sadly, those kind of occasions can evolve into, on no, I cant believe I just said that.
I was amazed just how nervous you can become even when you dont want the fucking job. I think it is the very fact that everything you say is taken down and very possibly used against you.
I walked away at the end with that same mixed feeling. I don't want the job, but I also don't want to be judged on an interview I haven't really bothered with.
Everyone has said that since I don't want it, I will probably get it, probably, but I wait to hear. Not with baited breath though, only with mild curiosity. So, when I find out, I will report.
On a side note, it was good to see Jon Gaunt (Talk Sport's resident right wing anus) has been sacked for his ridiculous comments last week live on air. As Richard Herring rightly pointed out in last weeks Collings and Herrin Podcast, Micheal Stark is the opposite of a Nazi as he is trying to stop people being poisoned by toxins in the air. It is funny Jon Gaunt didn't spot that.
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| Comments about This Article |
| And what not.
Comment By: Fletch 1, 20 Nov 2008, Rating: 1/5  |
| The first and last interview I had I finished most sentences with the phrase, 'and what not'. I have never used this phrase since or even before that horrid event but unfortunately I got the job and now spend most days crying into my crisps..
Comment By: Fletch Lives, 20 Nov 2008, Rating: 1/5 |
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