I’m just back from a job interview. Yes! Hours after my post yesterday, I was phoned and asked to come in to discuss my suitability for the role. I may be called back in to give them a show of my writing prowess, or of course, I may not.
I shall wait and see.
Interviews are always a strange social experiment, wouldn’t you say? This company had called in a rather large number of applicants, for two different roles, on the same day at regularly timed intervals. As I watched in fascination from my car—I am early to a fault—as the front door to this company opened and shut many times in the fifteen minutes of observation. After I’d walked in and took a seat, still more came and went.
Here’s where it became interesting, and it’s fine to call me old after reading this (coz I am). What people choose to wear to interviews never ceases to amaze me. Some, jeans. Others, thongs (that’s footwear for those reading in the US). There were a number who, like me, had gone to effort: heels, neat smart outfit. But most were sloppy dressers, and some looked like a brush had not been close to the hair on the head. For days. Weeks even.
No judgement here, purely observation. How one clothes themselves is no indication of how well they can perform a job. I know this. But isn’t dressing well part of the game? I always thought so. I was taught to put best foot forward in all circumstances. First impressions count. That sort of bollocks.
But like I said, I am old. What do I know? And, aside from now being able to hum a tune that is not sad and mopey, it doesn’t really matter.
Have a good day all!