Tell Me About Yourself

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellow, 

I had my first actual interview today. It was with a couple of men who were undoubtedly very nice but who bored the sh*t out of me. 

They also got onto my bad side early on. I asked them about flexible working and they were all, "Well, five days a week in the office at first, just to make sure you're producing..."

I mean. 

Yeah. 

It didn't help that one of them looked like Peter Gavan. This will mean nothing to the Princess, but Fat Pete will understand. He was a relentlessly boring man who sat next to me during my very first contract at Standard Life in 1995. 

(He was also a Kiwi, coincidentally).

He meant well but he was also unable to handle silence at all. Even when I was concentrating. Even when I came close to breaching the rules of rudeness by saying, "Please can we not talk? I'm trying to concentrate." 

He would respond with, "Aw yeah. I can tell yer trying to concentrate. That must be really irritating me going and on and talking when you're clearly stressed and trying to focus. I hate it when people don't take the hint and keep on talking regardless of how other people feel. My daughter Olivia tells me I do it all the time... aw hey did I tell you about the time I took Olivia skiing?"

And on and on and on... It was like a nervous tic.

This did not help the case of the interviewers. I'd pretty much decided ten minutes in that this was not the job for me. But it turns out I got it anyway. 

Sigh.

Cue nagging calls from the recruiter trying to persuade me. I gave him some guff about the job description when all I really wanted to say was get these boring effers away from me and get me a Shenée instead.

So I mean. I guess it's encouraging but also not encouraging at the same time. Next week I have an informal chat lined up with a lady named "Deb" from KiwiBank. I am told she is lovely.

I have high hopes for Deb. Maybe not Shenée-high. But I'd be happy with Laura-high or Jess-high.

Pray for me.

S.