interview

Last week I had a job interview. In the very heart of the City. I got up early, had breakfast, showered and dressed – in a suit. In a black suit.

After having checked my appearance several times from the mirror I joined the grey mass of commuters. First train was too full so I had wait for the next one. Crammed. Could not even breath. Then, with the wave into the city line. Dark suits, stern, tired faces, silence and Financial Times. At Bank I gave up. I could not take it any longer. Luckily I was a bit early so could walk the rest of the way.

Impressive. In my suit, heels, hair tied up and a skinny take away latte (this means an espresso with some non-fat milk, in a paper mug for those who are not quite familiar with the Starbucks/Costa jargon. Often I have it with a sugar free vanilla syrup but this time I had opted for the calorie free artificial sweetener) I must have looked like I belonged there, because I got stopped twice by people asking for directions. Not a bad start.

But I would still get a bike if I ever got that job. There is no way I will ever commute by train. No way.

I signed into the building and used the spare minutes to go to the bathroom. A shower. Hmmm. This is promising. I could run to work or go running during lunch. Definitely promising.

The guy I had an interview with was not in yet. Even better. These people have a life. And they laugh. Promising. Definitely promising.

The interview was long  - interview, exam, interview. I was getting pretty nervous. I had no idea how to answer most of the questions and I definitely, definitely did not like their reactions to my answers.

Two hours later I handed in my visitors’ badge, with a job offer in my hand.

Next time I go there, I will no longer be a visitor. And will have a bike.