Anatomy Of A Job Interview

THIS WEEK I HAD a job interview. I received a two-page letter giving me detailed instructions. I had to take with me my driving licence, P45 plus “another document providing evidence of your eligibility to work legally in the United Kingdom, such as a full Birth Certificate.” I would also be expected to bring along the originals – plus “a copy for retention by the panel” – of any “degrees or diplomas etc” declared in my application. I also had to fill in a Criminal Conviction form and return it in the stamped addressed envelope provided. I was asked to telephone before the interview to confirm that my referees could now be approached. Finally, I was asked to telephone a different number to confirm that I would be attending the interview.

NOISY

At the interview, I was seated before a panel of three – two senior members of the department I was applying for a position with, and an “Administration Assistant.” All three took it in turns to ask me questions from the printed sheets they had in front of them. The interview went like this:
What qualities do you think you can add to our department?
Well, I’m a good team player and people person. I can get on with just about anyone, and in my previous jobs have had to work with people of all ages and backgrounds.
The office can get quite busy at times. Are you used to working in a noisy environment full of distractions?
Yes, I’ve worked in newsrooms with tight deadlines. I’m good at closing myself off and just getting on with it.
Do you have any experience of working with budgets?
I didn’t realise this post involved work with budgets, but yes, I have managed budgets before. In other jobs, I’ve been responsible for accounting for even the smallest sums, and have had to ensure the paperwork and receipts all add up.
Do you have any experience of dealing with aggressive people?
Yes. I once worked as a nightclub doorman and attended a course on conflict resolution.
Do you have any experience of dealing with people who may be very emotional?
As a journalist, I have dealt with bereaved families. As a tour guide, I have dealt with distressed holidaymakers. As an amateur football referee, I meet 22 extremely emotional people on a weekly basis.

ODD

Up until this point, I thought I had done reasonably well with my answers(even though I thought the questions a bit odd for the position I was applying for). But then, after a quick glance at her printed sheet, one of the senior members of staff asked me this:
Have you brought the original of your English Language GCSE certificate?
My answer was no. I had passed my English O-level nearly 30 years ago, and, in the dozens of changes of address since, had somehow managed to lose the certificate. But I was confident that by the end of the interview they would be satisfied with the quality of my written and spoken English. I said this last bit with a smile. No-one smiled back. Instead, brows were furrowed and heads bowed. The Administration Assistant began sifting through the pieces of paper in front of her. My answer had caused a system malfunction, and she couldn’t find the approved response anywhere. She found herself with a round peg which wouldn’t fit in to the square hole. Finally, she looked up from her papers and said to her colleagues: “It says here a copy of the certificate is essential.”
The job I was being interviewed for was that of part-time typist in the Social Work and Health Department of my local council. Eighteen hours a week for slightly more than the minimum wage.

But it was clear that by not bringing proof of my English O-level success 30 years previously, I had seriously undermined my chances of getting the job and the £130 a week that came with it. My previous experience and qualification as a Teacher of English as a Foreign Language, plus my two years editing the features pages of a daily national newspaper, apparently counted for nothing. Perhaps the interviewers hadn’t bothered to read my application form. Or perhaps they were merely following council procedures.

DECENT

Eventually, the Admin Assistant asked if I had any questions for them. I said I was surprised that none of them had wanted to know my reasons for leaving behind a well-paid career in journalism to become a part-time typist. Even after I said this, none of them asked me. So I told them anyway. I thought it was relevant that they should know I was a good and decent man at heart who needed part-time work to bolster his girlfriend’s income and help support his novel-writing aspirations. But as I said this, something strange appeared to happen. I began speaking in a long-forgotten Mayan dialect. At least, this appears to be the only explanation for the row of glazed expressions opposite me, and the awkward silence after I’d finished speaking. It was only broken by the sound of papers being frantically leafed through as the Admin Assistant looked through her checklist to see if she could find a section called How To Deal With A Job Candidate Who Has A Personality. I don’t think she ever found it. I felt like a Dead Man Walking as I was led to an upstairs office to complete my typing test. She left me in the company of a stopwatch-wielding colleague and told me I didn’t have to return to the interview room once I’d finished. As rejections go, it was pretty crushing.

GRAPES

Now this isn’t the sour grapes of a middle-aged man whose 50 wpm typing skill wasn’t enough to get him a part-time job with the local council. It’s simply a tiny snapshot of life in the World of Crap.
The area I live in has more than its fair share of social problems. Yet someone, somewhere had decided that it required two senior social workers plus an admin assistant to spend a whole day interviewing a succession of applicants for a minor clerical post while the problems of the mentally-ill, drug-addicted, HIV-positive, chronically-delinquent, domestically-abused and recently-orphaned were neglected.
Well, you know what? I hope that person ends up down a dark alley and bumping into the homeless, hypodermic-wielding smackhead who couldn’t get an appointment with council staff on the day I was being rejected for the job of part-time typist because I’d forgotten to bring in my English Language GCSE certificate.
And that’s not sour grapes, honest.
© Jack Havana 2007. Reproduction of whole or part prohibited without Jack’s say-so.