Attic

Group Interviews - what the!

So here’s the thing. I am on the job hunt right now just for something casual to replenish the devastation that is my current financial situation. Well yes I am currently employed however I am tight for shifts and overall am ready to move on from the place I have worked at for the past two years.

I hate interviews. I totally don’t present well as I have somehow become partially socially retarded and always end up saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. I don’t understand how this happened to me. I have always been complex in the way that since I was little I could easily become nervous and uneasy about myself. However, recently it has grown to the point that at some stages I have found eye contact an overbearing challenge. Unfortunately, stating good people skills on my resume could one day have me sued for false advertisement.

Anyway I decided recently it was time to bite the bullet and get over my ‘hang-ups’ or suffer the fate of not being able to buy my happiness at ‘Easy Way’. So I applied for jobs and began to radiate a facade of confidence.

Eventually came the day that I was called into one interview with a clothing retailer. The only problem was that it was a group interview. I was just coming to grips with handling myself in an interview let alone having to compete with other applicants on the spot. An image came across my mind where the interviewers would return to the room they left the applicants in not 20 minutes earlier to find that only one remained licking the blood from her polished fingertips. 

Anyhow I didn’t really get the group interview. The whole thing had this polyester feel to it. The fake smiles and forced laughter. Having to pretend your best friends with the person next to you that you met not five minutes earlier to show how much of a people person you are.

It became apparent to me that regardless of how good your answers were, in  the end it depended on something much more shallow. I looked around at my other male competitors. I was up against a former Colombian soccer player and another guy who claimed he was in the trials for the Olympic swimming team. Upon hearing this a jolly little voice in my head sung “ok! I’m done”.

Now I know exactly what it feels like to be the fat girl who didn’t make the cheerleading squad in High school.