Second interview angst is killing me

A man is shipwrecked on a desert island. He builds a raft using the last of the resources at hand, one that is sturdy enough to brave the seas and get him rescued. He spends all his time and energy building the raft but recognises soon it will be too heavy for him to lift so he heaves it down to the water’s edge. He erects a mast and even turns a washed up shirt into a flag to put atop. He can visualise his escape from the island and he can taste the salt air. All he needs is for tomorrow to pile on supplies of smoked meats and fish, and bottles of fresh water that will sustain him for up to two weeks and eventual rescue.

In the night he dreams a huge wave comes in and snatches the raft from him. He holds on to the thick guide rope and buries the soles of his feet in the wet sand but the raft is too heavy and the rope too slippery and he can’t hold on. He gives it one last inhuman effort but alas the raft is taken by the ruthless ocean. The storm rages around him and he falls to his knees pounded by rain. He watches hopelessly as his salvation drifts off into the night, until finally it disappears into the darkness.

The same is true of a final interview. You have invested so much in getting to the final stage that you can almost reach out and touch the salary, benefits and everything else that goes with regular employment. And at the same time you know it can all be snatched from you by a simple act of nature – maybe the CEO doesn’t see you as a fit for the company or one of the interviewers is in a bad mood.

I’ll tell you how it goes sometime after tomorrow. I hope I will wake and my raft will be there waiting to carry me to salvation. I have a second interview and hope to make it to the third and final interview stage. I am building my raft of research and tethering it together with strands of knowledge. I can only hope it is sturdy enough and that nature doesn’t decide to screw me over.

This second interview angst is killing me.

The angst is starting to get to me.

OK! Very funny, the joke’s over. I’ll take that job now. Anybody. Anybody. Bueller. Come on, seriously, I’ve had enough now and I’m starting to get worried. A few weeks is fair enough, go through the hell of searching for a job, of filling in countless forms with their ridiculous questions, but I’d very much like a job now.

The angst is starting to bite. You know the angst is biting when you start singing to yourself in a high pitched squeal and when small, almost inconsequential, problems make you want to give up. Well the angst has locked its shark like teeth around my ripe plump posterior and it isn’t letting go. Bugger. The only way to tackle the angst is to have a plan and achieve steps on that ladder to success, each step gives you hope. My first step is to get a flat mate to relieve some of the pressure of paying the mortgage. I have five people coming to look at the room this weekend, so I can only hope one of them isn’t too freaked out by the giant clown head I leave on the pillow. Maybe I should chuck that.

Step two is to go down the council tax people and see what help they can give me. I need everything I can get at this stage. I’m only worried that by having a flat mate I might invalidate getting help on the council tax. The one thing about this that absolutely pisses me off is that I can go to talk to my mortgage company about taking a payment holiday but I have to keep paying for the bloody Olympics. Unless I get a job with the Olympic Delivery Agency which would be great, like getting your money back.

Step three is to go into my mortgage company and have a chat with them about what I can do. My fixed rate is up shortly and the Bank of England have done their bit by reducing the interest rate to 0.5%. So hopefully payments should fall.

I don’t have a step four. I DON’T HAVE A STEP 4!!!! DONT PANIC. DON’T PANIC!


Boy this angst is killing me.