When job interviews go wrong: more white noise
Unfortunately my 'holiday' lifestyle has come to an abrupt end, and tomorrow I will recommence my 'working for a living' lifestyle. While I've always had the skills and inclination to be idly rich, unfortunately I was born into a class where work ethic and aspiration ruled supreme.
The job hunting experience in London has been nothing if not hilarious and so I apologise for the sporadic postings recently as mostly I've just been on the incredibly monotonous and predictable job hunt, which is now being replaced by the incredibly monotonous and predictable flat mate hunt.
My first job interview was with the guy I wrote about a few weeks ago under the title "eyes up front sunshine", who made me question many many things about my relocation to this hemisphere.
A few days after my interview with Mr Pervy, I applied for a job with a small marketing agency about half an hour outside of London, but on a main train line, so an easy commute for a Sydney sider. I had been in email conversation with one of the owners/principals of the firms and he gave great email, so I was enthusiastic about the job. They sounded hilarious, their website was genuinely funny and while the job sounded like I'd be somewhat underutilised, I was prepared to be bored to work with these guys. And so we set a time to meet.
My first interview was postponed because a new client called an emergency meeting, my second interview was postponed for another equally legitimate but annoying reason and my third interview was relocated from the just outside London office to a "private members" club near Charing Cross, in downtown London.
By the time my third interview had been postponed I was pretty much over it, and actually wanted to tell them to take their job... but the lure of working with entertaining people is strong... having previously served time working with people who are humourous as the holocaust. So, despite my better judgement I did not withdraw from the interview.
My only experience of a "private members club" in Sydney was either an RSL or a club I wouldn't have thought suitable for an interview setting and so I was somewhat bemused about the concept of either being interviewed with the mechanical drone of "number 54 to the bistro, your chicken parmas ready" in the background or in front of a harem of scantily clad ladies past their prime providing lap dances. Either way I figured I'd get a good story out the experience.
I googled the club which at least provided me with directions, but didn't really help allay my mental image of poles, nylon and pussycat doll wanna bes. And for those of you who have done the "what to wear to a job interview" monologue, add "job interview in a possible strip club" to the mix and then see what you have in your wardrobe. Do you wear pro-stripper clothes? What are pro-stripper clothes? Do you wear standard business attire? So many variables, none good.
Having never been on a blind date, I can only assume the experience to be the same - going to meet effectively a total stranger in a bar in down town London. Not exactly the most job interview friendly settings, but the firm was certainly not a mainstream firm and so I pushed aside my natural apprehensions.Somewhat.
Not entirely. While most people mentally prepare for job interviews by doing practice runs on questions you're almost definitely going to be asked I mentally prepared by googling the guy (20 500 hits later) to make sure he wasn't a convicted psychopath or serial killer and emailing various friends his name, mobile number and company name in case I didn't return that evening and an unidentified female body washed up on the shores of the Thames the next morning.
Not that I am usually such a cynical drama queen, but these were unusual circumstances: in my mind I was meeting a total stranger in a bar that was possibly a lap dancing club to have a "drink and a chat".
They could have been a cover for a mail order bride operation for all I knew (having made it through only about 10 of the 20500 hits on google before I decided that it was useless) or worse dealing in black market organ donation. I knew nothing about these guys and they knew nothing about me.
While I am totally in favour of alcohol being served in all job interviews, usually I have been served luke warm nescafe or tap water, so I was way out of my comfort zone with this one. Not at all helped by like minded cynical friends, who when called to calm me down only added to my mounting fears by saying things like "just say he hits on you?" I assured them that wouldn't happen, as in one of our email exchanges he had promised to not look at my cans, which none of us could decide was a good thing or a bad thing.
Long and short of it, I made it to the club, which was actually just a bunker pub where people in my industry get together to bang on to each other from the looks of it and the receptionist gave me a vaguely accurate description of the guy I was to meet, so it was actually much easier than expected. They bought me a beer, we had a chat, they decided I was overqualified for the job, I decided one of them was a toss pot and we went our separate ways.
The job hunting experience in London has been nothing if not hilarious and so I apologise for the sporadic postings recently as mostly I've just been on the incredibly monotonous and predictable job hunt, which is now being replaced by the incredibly monotonous and predictable flat mate hunt.
My first job interview was with the guy I wrote about a few weeks ago under the title "eyes up front sunshine", who made me question many many things about my relocation to this hemisphere.
A few days after my interview with Mr Pervy, I applied for a job with a small marketing agency about half an hour outside of London, but on a main train line, so an easy commute for a Sydney sider. I had been in email conversation with one of the owners/principals of the firms and he gave great email, so I was enthusiastic about the job. They sounded hilarious, their website was genuinely funny and while the job sounded like I'd be somewhat underutilised, I was prepared to be bored to work with these guys. And so we set a time to meet.
My first interview was postponed because a new client called an emergency meeting, my second interview was postponed for another equally legitimate but annoying reason and my third interview was relocated from the just outside London office to a "private members" club near Charing Cross, in downtown London.
By the time my third interview had been postponed I was pretty much over it, and actually wanted to tell them to take their job... but the lure of working with entertaining people is strong... having previously served time working with people who are humourous as the holocaust. So, despite my better judgement I did not withdraw from the interview.
My only experience of a "private members club" in Sydney was either an RSL or a club I wouldn't have thought suitable for an interview setting and so I was somewhat bemused about the concept of either being interviewed with the mechanical drone of "number 54 to the bistro, your chicken parmas ready" in the background or in front of a harem of scantily clad ladies past their prime providing lap dances. Either way I figured I'd get a good story out the experience.
I googled the club which at least provided me with directions, but didn't really help allay my mental image of poles, nylon and pussycat doll wanna bes. And for those of you who have done the "what to wear to a job interview" monologue, add "job interview in a possible strip club" to the mix and then see what you have in your wardrobe. Do you wear pro-stripper clothes? What are pro-stripper clothes? Do you wear standard business attire? So many variables, none good.
Having never been on a blind date, I can only assume the experience to be the same - going to meet effectively a total stranger in a bar in down town London. Not exactly the most job interview friendly settings, but the firm was certainly not a mainstream firm and so I pushed aside my natural apprehensions.Somewhat.
Not entirely. While most people mentally prepare for job interviews by doing practice runs on questions you're almost definitely going to be asked I mentally prepared by googling the guy (20 500 hits later) to make sure he wasn't a convicted psychopath or serial killer and emailing various friends his name, mobile number and company name in case I didn't return that evening and an unidentified female body washed up on the shores of the Thames the next morning.
Not that I am usually such a cynical drama queen, but these were unusual circumstances: in my mind I was meeting a total stranger in a bar that was possibly a lap dancing club to have a "drink and a chat".
They could have been a cover for a mail order bride operation for all I knew (having made it through only about 10 of the 20500 hits on google before I decided that it was useless) or worse dealing in black market organ donation. I knew nothing about these guys and they knew nothing about me.
While I am totally in favour of alcohol being served in all job interviews, usually I have been served luke warm nescafe or tap water, so I was way out of my comfort zone with this one. Not at all helped by like minded cynical friends, who when called to calm me down only added to my mounting fears by saying things like "just say he hits on you?" I assured them that wouldn't happen, as in one of our email exchanges he had promised to not look at my cans, which none of us could decide was a good thing or a bad thing.
Long and short of it, I made it to the club, which was actually just a bunker pub where people in my industry get together to bang on to each other from the looks of it and the receptionist gave me a vaguely accurate description of the guy I was to meet, so it was actually much easier than expected. They bought me a beer, we had a chat, they decided I was overqualified for the job, I decided one of them was a toss pot and we went our separate ways.
That really should answer your question.