As you can see I clearly knew what I was doing. I had covered all angles.They would never know about the state of my desk or the fact that it takes me twenty minutes to find my keys each morning. The interview got off to a decent start. She asked questions and I answered in coherent sentences and even tossed in some charming anecdotes.
And then my brain went into over-drive. I began to think I was over doing it. I needed to seem more three dimensional. I should inject some self-depreciation.
Needless to say I caught her off-guard with my change of direction.
And once I started listing my flaws...I couldn't stop. There was a ten minute tangent on my completely inappropriate sense of humour, which she did not find remotely amusing. In the end she suggested she show me the way out. As we got up from our seats she took a moment to survey my attire.
At that point I was paranoid and so I went an extraordinary shade of pink and suspected she was indirectly calling me a whore.
I began considering that my mother had been right all these years, that...
There was only one thing for it. To shake hands and get the hell out of there.
I turned on my heel and marched out of there with all the dignity I could muster. I took a sharp right and waltzed across the car park.
I took a deep breath as I rounded the corner. Finally out of view of the huge glass doors at reception. I took stock of my surroundings. I'd walked into a corner of the car park where there was only an oil-tank and a bike leaning against a wall. There was also no way to get out without doubling back past the big glass doors.
After taking a minute to consider how stupid I would look confidently striding back across the car park I decided to do the only logical thing: scale the wall the bike was leaning against, jump into the field on the other side and leg it to freedom.
Once I was in the field I found it a little more difficult than I'd imagined to traverse the mucky terrain.
It was during this ridiculous game of stuck in the mud that I happened to glance back at the building and realise I was in full view of the reception area.
I did the only thing I could to at that point. I soldiered on.
I eventually found my way home and could think of nothing better to do than call someone and have them reassure me that it wasn't that bad. I hadn't just completely blown it.
I opened my black folder to get my phone out.
I spent the next hour looking for secret pockets in my folder before I came to the realisation that....
So once again, I used my logical disposition to decide what to do next. I thought it would be best to call and pretend I was someone else to see if a phone had been handed in at reception.
I did not however anticipate their questions.
I began to panic a little.
And the receptionist became more suspicious.
Even though I knew I sounded ridiculous I continued to speak in my very unconvincing English accent.
Then I gave up, it was clear she thought I was some sort of raving lunatic. So I gave a very long winded explanation of how I wasn't crazy. I further explained why I was speaking in an English accent, how I didn't want anyone to think I was an idiot and I never usually would do anything like this but I'd been in earlier for an interview and I had either left my phone in the meeting room or lost it while scaling a wall and trudging across the field while escaping from the interview. The receptionist eventually interrupted my warbled confession....
I think it's safe to say they won't be hiring me anytime soon.