by The Schmooze

Created on: July 16, 2008

It was the day of my first interview. The Graphic Design firm got fed up with my nagging requests for a job and finally decided to grant me the interview I so badly craved. Deep down, I was quietly confident in my ability to ace the interview and nail the job. I had after all, read several books and articles on the art of

On the material day, I was supposed to get up early to do my final touches before I left for the interview. That didn't happen! The curse of the sleep monster got to me and when I finally woke up, it was 9.30 am. The interview was slated for 10.30 am, and for me to stand any chance of beating the horrible traffic and getting to the venue on time, I had to leave home at 9.45.

That left me with 15 minutes to do everything from washing to grooming and breakfast. Clearly, breakfast was a luxury I could afford to do without on that day. I wish folks from Guinness Book of World Records were around because that would have gone down as the quickest shower ever!

Ever a fast dresser, I took but a couple of minutes to don my suit. I splashed some cologne on the suit, grabbed my papers and off I was. Curses! The cars were moving slower than at snail's pace. I got of the bus a few blocks back and made a mad dash to the venue.

The wry smile on the secretary's face as she directed me to the interview room should have alerted me. But my antennae were only receiving interview signals. I flung the door open and what I saw dumbfounded me. It was a panel. All along, I thought I would be interviewed by one person. So you can imagine the shock at encountering a panel.

As if that wasn't enough, the first thing one of the panelists uttered to me was to wipe the sweat of my face. In my haste, I had forgotten to carry a hanky. How exactly I got the sweat of my face I'll leave to your imagination. As I approached the seat reserved for me, one of the clearly sympathetic interviewers told me it was okay to take my jacket off. I obliged! My watery armpits were unleashed on the disgusted interviewers.

From the look on their faces, I knew it would take a miracle to land the job. I had lost out from the moment I walked in. Then the questions started. My chance to redeem myself, I thought. "Tell us a little about yourself." I knew how I was meant to answer the question but my mind and my mouth weren't coordinating. Before I knew it, I was giving them my family history. "What is your biggest weakness?" Wasn't that obvious my time consciousness, or lack thereof.

"Who are your role models?" Mandela, the Late Mother Teresa. That's what I was mean to say. What came out of my mouth were praises of Snoop Dogg for having revolutionized rap music.

I was supposed to have designed a creative campaign as part of my interview. As luck would have it, I left it at home. If I wasn't sure that I'd failed the interview earlier, I was now! And sure enough, I got a call the next day, the caller regretting the fact that I'd failed the interview.

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