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In which I am surprised

I've lost the writing mojo recently. This post follows a text message from Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open containing a prompt: "75 words on the last time you were truly surprised".  It's a little over word count, but it at least forced me to put words on paper. Hopefully with a few more nudges like that, I'll be back in the habit.

It took a moment to sink in when she said it.

"We thought you were great, and we loved that you showed genuine enthusiasm for the role..."

Here we go - but the field was very strong, and we've decided to offer it to another candidate.

I'd had the sinking feeling in my stomach since I'd walked out of the room. I was desperate for the job: a meaty one, working on (and I'm biased but,) some of the most interesting and important issues available in my press handlingesque sort of field in an institution I've wanted to work for since I can't remember when.

So the out of body experience I'd had in the interview three days beforehand had been wildly disconcerting. I had heard myself give answers that weren't the ones I'd prepared, that I wasn't happy with - and worst, following a train that I didn't seem to be able to stop once it had started.

I'd walked out of the building with a sinking heart, and by the time I'd reached the flat - having replayed every word in my head - I'd come to the conclusion that the hour had been an unmitigated disaster, and that I'd thoroughly embarrassed myself in front of the interviewing panel.

By the time The Writer got back home, it had become such a catastrophe that I'd cried into his chest.

"You don't know," my boss at work had said the following morning when I answered her question about how it had gone. "You might just be terrible at assessing your own performance."

If only.

When the email came through asking me to call, I took a few breaths and steeled myself. Ah well. Just a job. not the be all. There'll be another one.

"So we'd love to offer you the job. When can you start?"

A pause. A moment to descramble my thoughts. A (failed) attempt to stifle baffled laughter.

Sometimes, you don't get it right, you don't read the situation, you can't assess your own performance. And that's for the best.

This post first appeared on Against Her Better Judgment, please read the originial post: here

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In which I am surprised


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