Now I have to find other, less interesting, jobs to apply for.
Interview went really well, I’m told - but went better for someone else, so the answer is no.
From 3:30pm (which was apparently last) to 11am (which is apparently second). Someone dropped out.
I have spent some time today trying to decide if this is a good or bad thing, and to figure out how many people in total they are seeing.
Anyway, two questions for you all that may help me with my nerves:
1. What are some of the best and worst interview questions you have been asked?
2. Wanna make out?
Question 2 could also be an answer to question 1, I imagine.
My co-workers have noticed I find everything annoying. Luckily, they don’t seem to include themselves in their definition of everything, so I should be ok for a couple of months.
(Short list of things I have found annoying the last couple of weeks: rain, the blinds being down, the lack of IT infrastructure, London, the blinds being up, the post, the lifts in our office, roadworks, users, Google, Starbucks (the company), Starbucks (the shop next door), Stalingrad, the French, the government, the opposition, my boss, all mobile phone companies, people younger than me, the entire team who sits behind me, printers, my lighter, fire drills, meeting rooms being turned into offices, our phone system, the amount of dirt and crumbs that fell out of my secondhand keyboard when I turned it upside down, iPads, Blackberrys, my confusion over how to pluralise Blackberry when I am referring to the devices, Android phones, teleconferences, the Field Trip app, having to sign up to get access to white papers which are essentially just marketing anyway, paucity of ambition, Alex Ferguson, the Cathars, my own hands, the Danish, Facebook, the Daily Mail, recycling, and the general public. I am a pleasure and a delight to work with.)
Whose boobs and health choices are we going to be judging today? I’d volunteer, but no-one wants to be thinking of my hairy man breasts.
Except now you all are.
When you start to get the impression that you may finally be getting at least one part of your life back on track, and that getting some stability may actually help you with the shit-storm that is the rest of it.
I think it’s called being hopeful, or optimistic, or something. You should try it.
(I reserve the right to rescind this post if I screw up my interview on Friday.)
It’s nice that, for one day, the rest of the world is thinking about boobs as much as I always do.