Macrolog
Interview Post Mortem
So the big interview was this morning.
I got there quite early, allowing for time to get lost in the building (which I did, of course — story of my life). But the interviews were running a quarter of an hour later than advertised, so I had 30 minutes to sit and contemplate my fate.
The woman ahead of me, with the sharp suit and the attache case, she looked like she meant business. I started to feel a tad underdressed, what with my tieless shirt and empty messenger bag and all. We didn’t talk.
The woman who was in after me, though, I talked with her for a bit. She seemed nice. Can’t remember her name though. I’m terrible with names. (If you happen to be reading this, although I very much doubt you are, I’m sorry!) She’s probably a shoo-in.
They called me in at 11am. Me in a chair before two journos at a desk. The usual set-up. The interview got off to a good start, which was my main worry. My interviews are never perfect anyway, I always think of things I should or shouldn’t have said when it’s too late, but I guess most people are like that; nobody’s perfect, and they’re not looking for automatons.
I usually have moments where my brain just sticks — even if just for a few seconds — and I fight for things to say, things that make sense at least. There were one or two moments like that this morning. On the other hand, there were times when I was so eager to speak that I talked over them, just a tad. I hope they took that as enthusiasm (which it was) rather then rudeness (which definitely wasn’t intended).
I think I made some good points, and tried to show them that I understood what I was talking about. But you never know about these things. It’s impossible to see how you look through their eyes. To them, I could have been anything from the epitome of confidence to a deer in headlights. And besides, I’m competing against 50 other people — people who are easily just plain better than me — for a place on a course with 19 vacancies. So everything I’ve written here is pretty futile, when you think about it.
This must sound silly but I don’t remember that much about the interview, even though it was literally just a couple of hours ago. The 15-or-so minutes whizzed by in a blur, to be honest. I would take that as a good sign: it means I didn’t fuck it up completely. I felt the same after my interview in Ballyfermot four years ago. And they offered me a place.
There’s nothing I can do now but sit tight and wait for the ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
Tue 17 Jun 2003 at 13:31 ·
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This is the personal website of MacDara Conroy, a twenty-something journalist, editor and all-round creative type living in Dublin, Ireland.
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You are reading Interview Post Mortem, a Macrolog entry by MacDara Conroy. It is filed under Journal, and was published in June 2003.
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