When Friends Fall and Ideals Change

Nothing can start a literary piece of art better than sitting down (or in my case, arranging pillows, stretching legs out, adjusting laptop and cracking knuckles, not necessarily in that order) to beginning to write.

And something else that’s more or less equal to that in the same aspect is the occasion when you have something specific in mind you want to write about.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is one of those rare times, in my case at least.

Today, I talk to you about… how my first ever job interview went.

First, let me back up to the night before, and hand you a little brief prologue to the affair. I didn’t know about ThatCompany having a vacancy till Saturday morning, when I was texted the news by a friend. And since I was on the bus to The Big City through the afternoon and beyond, I didn’t have time to send in my CV till later that evening.

The next day, I’m getting a call by ThatGuy, who I had sent in my CV to, right in the middle of my class. It turns out I had been, miraculously, selected for Monday’s interview.

Fact one: I hadn’t expected a reply, and I didn’t know how to take the news.

Fact two: The interview was in The Big City, and I was in The Big City already… but the proper clothes needed were at home, four hours away.  For this to work, I’d have to go home and then come back again the very next day. Literally twelve hours of travelling that weekend alone.

To cut a long story short, (ish), I woke up late, got late to leave, and halfway to the hub of the City, I realized I wouldn’t have time to make it all the way to the room to change and head back to the office. A friend suggested I drop in at his place and change (owe you one, FH), and then I left from there, flustered, edgy, and running late.

I got to the building, at long last. Handed in my ID at the desk, took the pass, and then the elevator to the thirteenth floor.

Yup. As exaggerated as some parts of this tale may be, that bit was one hundred percent, solid truth. Of all the numbers that they could have picked, the interview was the thirteenth floor. Morbid sense of humor?

Lovely. This was turning out to be a heck of a day.

The elevator went DING, and I squared my shoulders, screwed my face into as macho an expression as my beard-less cheeks would let me, then stepped out.

“Matt?”

You know that old expression, the one that goes “His jaw dropped,”?

My jaw dropped.

There, sitting among the few unknown faces I had expected, was a known face that I certainly had not: one of the guys from one of the many classes in the qualification that I was taking.

“HD? What are you…?” 

The term "I sputtered" would do well here.

“Interview?” he asked, querying the obvious.

“Um... yeah,” 

Not adding the 'duh' to the end of that wasn't easy, but I managed to pull it off.

I sat down, cleared my throat. He cleared his. The phrase 'awkward moment' wouldn’t have quite covered that particular moment, I can tell you. I tried to think of some small talk to make, and he was probably doing the same. Apparently, he decided tap his fingers on his file and hum quietly instead.

I glanced round at the other guys. One dude, two feet taller than me (and twice my body mass) gave me a look. His expression was blank, but I could tell what was in his mind.

Ulp.

So there I sat, twiddling thumbs, until the elevator went DING again.

I looked up as the doors opened, and… well, this was the point where I began to think I was dreaming. In walked in yet another class buddy, and this time I got to see someone else’s jaw drop. His.

“Matt? HD?” he exclaimed.

I swallowed, and grinned weakly.

“Hey, AM. You here for the interview, too?”

“Uh… yeah. You guys…?”

He sat down, and then the wall broke.

The three of us knew well enough the rule of no talking during an interview; but at that point, we didn’t care. It began with a “HO-LEE COW!” and went off to corners unknown, culminating in the crazy incident in the restaurant the other day, till the elevator went DING again.  

This time, I wasn’t too surprised when a third friend popped in and did his version of the jaw drop. At that point, it was like a freaky, mini version of a class reunion.  A Halloween party, with Corporate Stooge being the very specific theme.

Quick footsteps made our heads turn, and we snapped back into our seats as the interviewer came in. Barely raised an eyebrow at us, he glanced at the sheet in his hand and called a name.

As the victim followed him, the three of us hushed up and fell back into melancholy silence. One after another, the other guys were called in, but none of them came back. I gave my buddies a look, and AM shrugged.

Then, it was HD’s turn.

The wait was agonizing. Roughly ten minutes later, HD came back in, looking pretty pleased.

“I’m in for the second interview,” he said, “In about ten minutes,”

I didn’t have time to reply, since my name was next.

The guy didn’t give me time to feel uncomfortable. He shook my hand, introduced himself, and asked me to tell me about myself.

Talking is what I do, after all.

And so, talk I did.

After I was done, he told me about the job, the hours (which sucked) and the pay (which was surprisingly worth it), asked if I had any questions… and then told me to wait outside for ten minutes till the second interview.

I had made it to the second. Unbelievable. As I walked out and AM went in, I flashed him a thumbs up which he returned. I sat next to HD, and shrugged.

I figured everyone was making it to the second interview. I was beginning to think I had been overthinking how tough it would be, and that I would probably be knocked out in the coming round... when AM returned, his face gloomy.

“I’m out,” he said, shrugging, “Didn’t make it. Well… see you guys later, then.”

At this point, I was awash in mixed feelings. Watching a friend of mine, a brother in arms, enter that elevator, turn around, give us that sad half smile, and wave goodbye as the doors closed… his loss meant a closer chance at my own victory; I could feel the two emotions war inside me, despair clashing with my competitive delight.

It was an indescribable moment. That, I realized then, was the life I was stepping into.

The second interview was as good as the first. The guy asked me if I was selected, when I’d be able to start; and I, obviously, replied, “As soon as you want me to.”

A good sign? I hope so.

HD and I were both told that we could leave, and HR would contact us. As it is with these things, probably in a week or two. We stayed a while longer till our third pal got out of the first interview; and it turned out he hadn’t made it past that, either.

 I had no idea what had happened to the other candidates. Maybe I hadn’t seen them leave when talking to the others. Were they selected? Did they strike out like my two friends?

I was feeling pretty thoughtful as the three of us took the elevator back down together. I hadn’t been prepared for this, and I knew all along chances were slim that I’d get the post, anyway. It was the practical outcome. Sure, the pay was good, experience useful, and the step into corporate culture long overdue.

But if I did get it, it would mean moving permanently into the Big City, and that my work as Mathew would take a hit. It was always inevitable, my real job interfering with my alter ego, but I had never really thought I would come to have gained so much from this blog and from the friends I had made.

The bus ride home was a reflective one. It’s funny how a single incident can change your perspective of an entire day; the perspective of an entire blog post.

Hoping for the best, people, and keeping my phone by my side. If they call, great. If they don’t, I get to chill a bit longer before I put on the noose they call a tie again.

Either way, I’m going to take what comes and make the most of it. And that’s how I guess it’s the best way to handle life. Take what comes your way, and make the best of it as you can. How you react is your choice.

Whatever comes your way, guys, I wish you all the very best.

Meditatively yours…

Matt Weaver