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Whats your worst interview?

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    Whats your worst interview?

    Posted my sorry tale on RichardCranium's dressing gown thread and then thought "this deserves it's own worst interview thread"...

    ...reading the new adventures of RC and so of the others, so a little tale to cheer you all up. Have been on the bench for 4 months now with one or two telephone interviews and put forward for about 10 gigs. November just gone I apply for a good 'un (money, location, IB, perfect fit for skills and experience) in the City and get invited to an agency interview at 11am. Excellent news.

    Night before...

    Shave? Check.
    Ironed shirt? Check.
    Decent suit? Check.
    Polished shoes? Check.
    Certificates? Check.
    Copies of C.V.? Check.
    Sleep? No chance...

    So, am up at 7 bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Cat fed in my boxers so no cat hair transference. Catch the bus to the station in plenty of time. Get the train into town in plenty of time. Get on the Northern Line up to Bank in plenty of time. Change onto the Central Line to get to Chancery Lane. The train leaves Bank and then stops.

    And waits.

    And waits.

    For those of you that don't know the Central is quite warm. It gets warmer. And warmer. And warmer. I start to sweat like a virgin in a brothel. Remove jacket and beg some tissues off some Jap tourists. Try to pat myself down and control the rivers of water coming from my fevered brow. Eventually the train crawls into Chancery Lane and I sprint to the agency office. Only 15 minutes late which is manageable, but still trying to make myself look presentable and give off an aura of calm. Meet the agency chap, firm handshake, look attentive, good answers, smiles, impressions of a good interview. Flirt a little with the receptionist on the way out. Good vibes all round.

    Get back in the lift to leave. There is a mirror in the lift. I see my reflection.

    With a good inch long piece of sodden tissue hanging from my forehead.

    Didn't get the job. Got very, very drunk from lunchtime that day. Come to think of it, I think I will get drunk now.

    Chin up, everyone. It will all come good in the end.


    Any other harrowing stories?

    #2
    Why did you bother at all with the agency interview?

    Comment


      #3
      So this was not even an actual interview???

      Comment


        #4
        9:30am interview back in 1996, security company near Paddington I think, some latin name, "Indici Silus" or something like that. Two interviewers one management and the other technical, the technical guy fell asleep 2 minutes after sitting down !!!

        Comment


          #5
          Originally posted by eliquant View Post
          9:30am interview back in 1996, security company near Paddington I think, some latin name, "Indici Silus" or something like that. Two interviewers one management and the other technical, the technical guy fell asleep 2 minutes after sitting down !!!
          The technical guy was actually the company boss.

          HTH

          Insanity: repeating the same actions, but expecting different results.
          threadeds website, and here's my blog.

          Comment


            #6
            Originally posted by acme View Post
            Posted my sorry tale on RichardCranium's dressing gown thread and then thought "this deserves it's own worst interview thread"...

            ...reading the new adventures of RC and so of the others, so a little tale to cheer you all up. Have been on the bench for 4 months now with one or two telephone interviews and put forward for about 10 gigs. November just gone I apply for a good 'un (money, location, IB, perfect fit for skills and experience) in the City and get invited to an agency interview at 11am. Excellent news.

            Night before...

            Shave? Check.
            Ironed shirt? Check.
            Decent suit? Check.
            Polished shoes? Check.
            Certificates? Check.
            Copies of C.V.? Check.
            Sleep? No chance...

            So, am up at 7 bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Cat fed in my boxers so no cat hair transference. Catch the bus to the station in plenty of time. Get the train into town in plenty of time. Get on the Northern Line up to Bank in plenty of time. Change onto the Central Line to get to Chancery Lane. The train leaves Bank and then stops.

            And waits.

            And waits.

            For those of you that don't know the Central is quite warm. It gets warmer. And warmer. And warmer. I start to sweat like a virgin in a brothel. Remove jacket and beg some tissues off some Jap tourists. Try to pat myself down and control the rivers of water coming from my fevered brow. Eventually the train crawls into Chancery Lane and I sprint to the agency office. Only 15 minutes late which is manageable, but still trying to make myself look presentable and give off an aura of calm. Meet the agency chap, firm handshake, look attentive, good answers, smiles, impressions of a good interview. Flirt a little with the receptionist on the way out. Good vibes all round.

            Get back in the lift to leave. There is a mirror in the lift. I see my reflection.

            With a good inch long piece of sodden tissue hanging from my forehead.

            Didn't get the job. Got very, very drunk from lunchtime that day. Come to think of it, I think I will get drunk now.

            Chin up, everyone. It will all come good in the end.


            Any other harrowing stories?
            WTF!!!

            Even going to an 'agency interview,' whatever one of those is!

            Worst interviews I've had with a client were both at Yorkshire Electricity. First one the (so called) Test Manager who was a contractor herself and had raised the PO for a contractor couldnt attend so she sent to other people along. They were greate lads and didnt ask me a thing. It was so embarrassing just listening to them describe the job and ask me if I wanted it!

            I had to ask them about what was what etc but they shrugged their shoulders and said the Test Manager would know.

            Foolishly I accepted the role mainly because it was good money but the job went downhill from there mainly because the Test Manager couldnt organise a drinking session in a brewery and worse, was a****ing liar. (Arent you Nina!?)

            Like a fool I didnt let that put me off this client so I was asked to attend another interview for a role with them about 15 months later.

            Two kids interviewed me, must have been all of about 22 and 24 years of age. First question one of them asked was 'And why do you want to work for Yorkshire Electricity?'

            WTF again! A bit taken aback at this I must have appeared like a rabbit caught in car headlamps. 'Pardon?' I said. So he repeats the question. Yep, my ears didnt deceive me first time, he actually asked why I wanted to work for YE!

            'Erm, sorry has there been some mistake? That's a question I'd expect to be asked if I was applying for a permie role. Im not 'wanting' to work for YE.....' and go on to explain Im a contractor and work for myself. I have a skillset which you appear in need of blah, blah, blah.

            By the glazed look in their eyes I could tell it was only going to go downhill from there!

            Oh, forgot! Had a telephone interview with a woman in a betting organisation near Wigan. I'd been told stories about her funnily enough when working with another contractor on another job. He said she was useless and was only in to metrics, wanting to know how many of this that and the other you done since she last asked 5 minutes ago.

            In the telephone interview she started asking questions about how many of these could you do an hour, how long to do this etc etc. Feedback from the telephone interview was that I didnt fit the companies 'ethos' which I found funny
            I couldn't give two fornicators! Yes, really!

            Comment


              #7
              Reminds me of a mate of mine who bought a new suit for an interview.

              Half way through the interview he noticed he had forgotten to remove a label from the sleeve, spent the rest of the interview trying to hide it (even though they must have seen it already), fluffed the interview and didn't get the gig.
              Back at the coal face

              Comment


                #8
                Originally posted by al_cam View Post
                Reminds me of a mate of mine who bought a new suit for an interview.

                Half way through the interview he noticed he had forgotten to remove a label from the sleeve, spent the rest of the interview trying to hide it (even though they must have seen it already), fluffed the interview and didn't get the gig.
                Well, at least he was able to take the suit back to the shop after
                'Orwell's 1984 was supposed to be a warning, not an instruction manual'. -
                Nick Pickles, director of Big Brother Watch.

                Comment


                  #9
                  I wouldn't say its my worst as it got me here in the first place:

                  Got rather unceremoniously booted off a contract and was spending time in the pub when I saw a permie job advertised in Computer Talk (remember that organ?) for Germany. I had been to Germany a few weeks previously and enjoyed it so much so wanted to go back, also the economic climate under Thatcher in the UK was pretty bloody awful. Sent off a letter and CV and a couple of days later while having a pint or 2 in the pub my phone rang (yes, I had a mobile back in the 80's) seeing if I was interested in an interview. Naturally I was and one was arranged for the next week.

                  Firstly, because I wanted the job I thought I had better get a suit never having owned one before. Therefore after the lunchtime session it was down to Burtons where I picked out a modest black suit with pinstripes. Went home and put it on, with shirt and tie and thought I looked pretty dapper so decided to wear it to the pub the evening before the interview to get comments (you can see where this is going, can't you?)

                  After many compliments and a wee drinkie or two it as time to leave the pub and as my wont was in them days to grab a curry on the way home. Got home in one piece with my curry, ladelled it all out onto a plate and sat down in front of the telly, resting the plate on the side of the armchair. As I was getting comfortable, I nudged the plate of curry and tipped all down the bottom half of my right trouser leg, sheidt. A quick clean up operation was undertaken and in the morning light it in fact looked perfectly fine.

                  Got on the train to London and was sitting next to the window where the heater also happens to be. After about 10 minutes I became aware of a faint smell of curry which slowly got stronger as time passed. Looking at my trouser leg you could see a faint flourescent green pattern emerging. Oh bloody double sheidt, I'm going to have to bluff this one.

                  By the time I got to the interview you couldn't really see the stain and the smell had decreased somewhat which was lucky. I sat down with my left leg kind of crossed over the bottom of my right leg for the whole of the interview which was also a bit different.

                  There were 2 people here, the manager and his top techie. We started off with the why (cos I was unemployed and Germany looked good to me) and then he asked me what I did in my spare time which at that time was building motorbikes and cars which just happened to be his hobby. The rest of the interview was a discussion of cars and bikes although I did try to steer it onto a technical bent but was told that my CV spoke for itself.

                  Got offered the job the next day and have never looked back. A couple of years later I told them the story and they told me that they thought I was just a bit weird for sitting like that.

                  ----

                  Once had an interview in Potters Bar for a job that I didn't really want but was coerced to go to (details are vague.) Anyway prior to the interview had a few bevvies in the pub first with a mate who was going to drive me there. Arrived at the interview which was going quite well when a pressure in my bladder started to form and as getting stronger by the minute. Eventually I had to stop them and ask for the toilet. Went to the toilet, had a pee, climbed out the window and buggered off back to the pub.
                  Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

                  Comment


                    #10
                    Not proper interview

                    In my teenage years I was given phone interview for a menial summer job. The interviewer asked me a stupid question and I put my hand over the mouthpiece and said to my friend sitting next to me "What a winkie question".
                    Its then that I found out the putting your hand over the mouthpiece doesn't cut out ALL the sound because the interviewer said "Actually it wasn't a winkie question". Can you believe that I didn't get that job ??!!!

                    Comment

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