Yesterday I had my first, formal job interview in more than a decade. It went well...I think, although my criteria for 'well' may not be quite those of the typical job seeker. For me, well, meant that I did not throw up in front of or on any of the interview panel. This is a good thing as apparently vomit can be a tad offputting in an employee.
We got off to a good start with the water, offered to me in those light weight, disposable plastic cups which are definitely designed to do nothing except fly independely across a room, showering their contents as they go. I'm not sure 'do you mind if I stick to using my plastic bottle' is a standard interview question, but it really should be.
I also did not fall over, well, not completely fall over anyway - judging by the haste with the chair of the interview panel displayed in attempting to reach me before I tried to get out of my seat, falls risk was paramount in their minds.
When the noise of dislocating joints was too loud to ignore I tried to hide my grimace of pain with a smile. That kind of got us all through the first dislocation which was only a finger when the panel all twitched and asked if I would perhaps like a rest. We soldiered on and clearly dislocation training worked as when I managed to pop back both shoulders, elbows and multiple ribs stretching with the impressive staccato sound effect of multiple gun fire only the panel twitched. I was cool, calm, laid back and professional throughout. Honest. Hopefully the recording did not pick up my muttered cursing at the pain or the nauseated expression of the panel members.
Being aware that body language is an important part of any interview strategy I tried really, really hard to have some that wasn't rude. Sensibly I wore a dress long enough to avoid potential panel pant flashing incidents.That worked quite well. For keeping my pants hidden. Less well on the not flashing my bra at the panel when it turned out the only way I could get up from the chair was to lie my entire upper body on the table and lever myself up. Fortunately one panel member was busy sprinting across the room to assist me and the others politely averted their eyes from my bra. I felt reassured that at least I had on a bra, and that it was both pretty and clean. I'm sure they'll give me the job on that basis alone - 'can manage to find and wear clean underwear' is definitely a formal requirement in most jobs.
The 'managing to remain upright in a seat' part of the interview was a challenge too far for me and I appreciated the panel's polite response to my constant wiggling, popping and occasional slumping onto the table for a rest mid sentence.
The interview ended on a wonderful question 'Did Kanga tell you about that?' to which the only obvious answer is 'Kanga facilitated communication'. Sadly I was too distracted by intense pain to manage something quite so coherent but I was very glad to see the panel respected Winnie The Pooh as much as I do.
Weirdly, despite all that I enjoyed the experience. I know, I know, it really is time to address getting out more often to do things classed as 'fun', job interviews not being top of most right minded people's idea of a good time. I think the panel enjoyed it too as one member generously offered to let me throw water over her anytime, but specified no hot tea. Perhaps they've been reading my blog?
Since being returned home I have done nothing but sleep, take oramorph, sleep, take more oramorph and whine pathetically about how bad I feel. When I was leaving the interview it did occur to me that potentially this opiate/sleep/pain cycle might impair my performance in any job and that perhaps even Atos had a point finding me unfit to work. Frankly that thought was obviously running through the mind's of the panel too so we did have a little chat about the feasability of the job for someone in my position. They were very encouraging about time to rest and recover though so that was kind. They also had a better mastery of body language than me too as they clearly projected 'I think you should probably be in bed love' without any need for a Babel fish translator.