Monday, 19 July 2010

How Not to get a Job

I'm sitting in the lobby of a rather large, corporate building.  Today I have a meeting with a recruitment agency for a certain job they have put me down for, and considering I only went to bed at 6am and got up at 7:30am, I can't say I'm in the right state of mind for this interview.  I look around at the masses of space in front of me.  I can feel my eyes drooping and almost curse at the fact that this armchair is so comfortable.  If this guy whose name I can't remember doesn't hurry up soon he's going to find me deeply asleep. 
    "Good morning," a cheery voice pierces through my mind's lulling state.  "Sorry I'm a little late," the guy says.  I shrug to suggest it's fine.  "Had a meeting with someone else that overran.  Have you been here long?" he asks as he leads the way to a small office. 
    "Not long," I lie.  I've actually been here for forty-five minutes because I was unsure how long it would take to walk. 
Once in the office I sit myself down on a blue office chair, smile politely at the guy and cross my legs in a professional business woman manner. 
    "Firstly, let's just go through your CV, then I'll talk to you about the current roles we have available," he speaks, but his words are just sounds at the moment.  "So how long have you been working for this company?" he points to the first job listed.
    "About six months,"  I begin.  "I love working there but I don't feel the tasks given to me show my full potential."  I'm almost surprised at these words.  Perhaps my brain is smarter than I think. 
He smiles at me, his blue eyes lingering a little longer than they should.  "I see.  And the one before that...let me see," he scans through my CV, "you worked there a little longer, it appears," he smiles at me devilishly.  Oh dear, he's spotted the fact that I only worked there for seven months.
    "That was just after university.  I loved working there but I don't feel the tasks given to me show my full potential,"
That's weird.  That last line seems oddly familiar.  Have I said something wrong, because this guy is looking at me rather oddly.  So I smile politely but his smile just stretches further. 
    "Indeed," he says.  His eyes avert back to my CV.  "So why would you like to get into PR?" he asks me. 
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.  My mind is struggling to come up with something and meanwhile I'm just sitting there like a lemon, smiling occasionally.  "I think it's the right line of work for me," I finally say,  "I've always been passionate about it and I'd like to pursue my career in it further,"  I say in all seriousness but he's not taking me seriously at all.  He's staring at me now - a boyish smile plastered on his face. 
    "Is something wrong?" I tell him.
    "Nothing at all," he says back. 
I smile awkwardly unsure of what to do. 
    "Late night last night?" he asks, the boyish smile making an appearance again.
    "What?" I reply in utter amazement.
    "I'm guessing you went out last night," he explains as if it wasn't clear the first time.
    "NO!" I quickly defend myself.  I went to bed very early in fact.  I'm shocked at his accusations.
    "So that cigarette butt in your hair is fashion now?  Very Lady Gaga,"
I rake my hand through my hair, wincing as I feel the cigarette caught in a messy tangle.  I desperately want to defend myself but let's face it, there's no professional answer as to why I have a cigarette butt in my hair.  So instead I giggle.
    "I didn't mean to stay out so late," I tell him with a girly smile.  "Went to visit a friend in London and accidentally missed my last train back here," I explain.  "I had no place to stay so I sought refuge in a casino until 5am.  No money for a taxi so I had to walk to Waterloo.  I've had quite an expedition, you see,"
    "So I see," he scans me briefly up and down as if approving.  I may be absolutely shattered but even in this state I know what that look means.  Suddenly I'm fully alert. 
    "Right, back to the CV," I say and immediately his eyes fall to the piece of paper in front of him.  After a few more questions he edges closer and I freeze in my seat.
Oh my gosh,! He's going to make a move!
    I don't say anything - I just sit there in silence as he keeps on moving closer, telling me that if I change this here, and replace these two my CV would be perfect. 
    "So what do you think?" he asks.
Very quickly I stand up.  "I'm really not interested!"
    "In the job?" he asks confused.
    "No!  In you!" I almost yell.  "You know, you really shouldn't be making a move on girls like this.  We come to you for help and guidance in our careers and you just sit there, eyeing us up and down, probably imagining us naked.  You should be ashamed of yourself sitting there, taking advantage of your opportunity.  You know what, I really should be talking to your manager about this.  It's absolutely despicable.  Well, this may have worked with some of the other idiots but not with me.  I may be tired, Geoff, but I'm certainly not stupid!"
And with that I storm out.

It turns out that I am indeed stupid.  In retrospect he really wasn't making a move on me - my tiredness just took over and my thinking became skewed.  The poor guy (who's name wasn't even Geoff, it was Richard) sent an email to apologise and I later had to speak to his boss about it.  His colleague had heard the entire thing and he had to be moved to another office.  I completely ruined his career.
I guess those adverts are right - Tiredness kills.

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