A couple of weeks ago I went for an interview.
If I had £1 for every time I have refreshed my inbox since I’d be rich.
“We’ll get back to you at the end of next week.’
‘A whole week?’ I thought to myself. ‘Wonderful.’ I replied to my interviewer as I smiled at her, embracing myself for a very long wait.
I’m going to have to keep myself very busy next week. I told myself, happy I had a plan of attack to break up the waiting game.
It is the classical dream job, the one I could throw myself at 100%. The job I am ready for.
It hadn’t been a decision taken lightly to put myself forward. I last worked, like ‘proper’ work, in 2007 and was made redundant when I was only 10 weeks pregnant with the twins. To go back to work full time or part time would mean I’d have to organise childcare, dogcare, housework, shopping and all manner of daily routines I take for granted. Right now I can nip in and out of the house as and when I please. I can move work commitments around to fit in with our life.
Do I really want to go back to work and give up this freedom?
There was the CV issue. I haven’t written a CV in 8 years, have they changed? I liaised with some friends, I wrote one up and sent it off.
They were interested and asked me to complete some tasks for them.
My first reaction was horror! Tasks? Where do I start? Can I even do this?
I put the tasks to one side ignoring them as hard as I could and made up my mind it would be the end of the road for me but then one late afternoon, I picked up the printed document, read it properly and started to think. I got swept away, the more I thought the more ideas kept coming. I had pieces of paper all over the place, I had notes in three different books, bookmarked pages on the internet and I was a whirl of information, a smiling whirl of information.
I liked this.
One week later, I sent off my completed tasks, happy with my work. Well sort of, there were areas that could have done with extra input but time didn’t allow me. I should have started earlier rather than panicking!
The offer of an interview.
‘Yes, yes, I would love to, thank you.’
Oh my, was I too gushing? Should I have gone back with a curt, thank you? Would that have been more professional?
Just be yourself. A friend kindly advised.
An interview. What shall I wear? Of course my wardrobe was offering up NOTHING suitable. I would have to shop.
Online searching, skirt – not too short, not too frumpy. Blue? Nice, I like blue. I ordered it in my size, knee length.
It arrived along with the blouse, shoes and tights to go with it but horror of horrors, it’s a MINI skirt. It didn’t look like that in the catalogue NEXT!
I took it all back and rummaged around in the wardrobe. I found something suitable. I relaxed.
Actually, that’s a lie. I didn’t relax. I started to fret. I didn’t sleep well on the run up, dreaming all sorts of tragedies. I spent an entire night in and out of a dream where I had lost my new phone! It was exhausting.
I arrived early and spent an hour with my interviewer. That’s got to be good right?
I had researched top questions asked in interviews and husband would test me whilst we did the dishes, ‘So why do you want this job?’ ‘Where do you see yourself in 3/5 years time Marianne?’
‘We have another couple of people to interview.’
“We’ll get back to you at the end of next week.’
I didn’t want to go. I wanted to find my place at a desk and start to work but I couldn’t.
I left the building praying that I would soon be back.
I sent a thank you note; short, sweet and thanking. I could have written tons more but I held myself back.
Was that a good decision? Maybe they think I’m begging? Maybe I look a bit needy now. Is that professional?
It’s the end of the week, Friday afternoon. Will I hear today?
It’s after office hours, no email.
I’m going to clear out the small bedroom upstairs, Tommy is coming over next week with the family. If I don’t get the job at least I can enjoy the family being here.
If I don’t get the job, I could start writing that book.
If I don’t get the job I could decorate our bedroom, clear out the cupboard under the stairs….
It’s midweek of the following week.
‘Sorry this is taking so long, we have more interviews this week, we’ll be in touch soon.’
A sigh of relief – it’s not a NO.
A panic – it’s not a yes.
I write a reply, I rewrite a reply. I cross bits out and add bits in. Will they like it? Will I look needy, desperate? I am desperate! I desperately want this job, it’s mine. I reread my email, reword some bits and click send holding my breath.
Then I panic about it. Shouldn’t have sent it. Should have sent it.
Oh well, too late to change now.
More people to interview. Younger people, knowledgeable, savvy people.
Oh this waiting game is stretching my nerves to breaking point.
Tommy and his family arrive, I am distracted. We are busy catching up, going out and eating together, there is lots of eating. I start to cook with an intense passion. My son and his girlfriend will think I am am a supercook!
A phone call … it’s them!!!
They are offering me a job. I accept.
I’m going back to work.
I have nothing to wear. I must go and shop.
Note to the reader: The above is all true and soon I will be able to say much more; who I am working for and what it all entails but for now I am bound to keep quiet. One way I kept myself busy on a particularly LONG Friday was composing this post. I am very excited about the next chapter in my life and what it will bring. Life in Mari’s World will take on a new shape, I hope you’ll join me on the next chapter too and I hope you enjoyed this creative writing which I have been missing for so long.