Novel: Interview

— Good afternoon, please, take a seat.

White empty room. These walls keep the whole world away from this tiny space. I feel the pressure on my brain, as if someone took it in their hands and squeezed it as a dishwashing sponge.

— Thanks.

Three chairs and a table with papers on it look artificial and feel out of place. Behind the table I see two men and a woman. They smile at me but I can feel the tension in the air, and it seems like I can see some kind of disgust and fear behind their eyes. Weird, I have never thought about myself as someone scary.

— Could you please introduce yourself? Miss?

— Yeah, sorry. I'm Meredith.

— Meredith... — this guy, he sounds like he is chewing my name, I wanna puke. Am I supposed to react or wait for him to... — Okay, Meredith. Let's talk a little bit about you. Could you tell us about yourself? 

— Sure, I graduated...

My voice sounds too high. I don't normally speak this way, what's going on? This whole thing is so weird. I might have thought the word "weird" too many times in the past five minutes or so. Weird. Oops, I did it again.

— After college I...

If only I could hear what they think of me. Why doesn't life have subtitles? Like in a silent movie. Or a French movie. Okay, that thought was offensive. Or wasn't? Am I implying that French is the same as no speech at all? Why do I care that I said something offensive in my own head? I hope I haven't said anything out loud accidentally.

— For a couple of years I worked in a different sphere...

Yeah, I'm still talking. Interestingly I have a lot to say about myself. I've always been told — the interview is the moment where your ego needs to shine. Do all interviewers expect this? I would be so tired of listening to people bragging about their achievements, going on and on about what they succeeded in and where it brought them. Be honest — if you are asking for a job, you can't be a winner. Winners are offered a job. If I was a winner, these people behind the desk would be answering my questions. Like what are they going to pay me, or how many days of vacation I can take each month. Currently the only thing I can ask is not to throw me out of here.

— Great background, Meredith, thank you very much. Let's proceed. Could you specify which qualities of yours will be beneficial for the position? And what are your weaknesses as an employee?

What kind of question is that? I mean I know what to say, but do these people really think that there is any way I can answer honestly? I am not going to talk about my real weaknesses, and I have oh-my-god many of them. My seasonal depression brings most of them up in a short switch, and my productivity can drop rapidly. Will I say that out loud now? Of course not. How does it sound politely in the HR-language again?

— ... Obviously, I have weaknesses, as all of us do. I guess what's really worth mentioning is time management. It's not that I don't know how to do it, however, sometimes under pressure especially I struggle with prioritisation a bit. But I am sure that your company provides a healthy working environment, and this issue won't be a problem for my productivity.

Oh my god, that was long. Did they buy it though? I did say that I have issues with time management, that can't be good. 

My hands are getting sweaty, and I feel the tremble going up my leg. I push it down, giving all my pressure not to start stomping my foot. I can't, I'm not in the position to show stress and anxiety right now. I already blew up some questions (at least I think so), I can't ruin the rest of my image in their eyes. 

— Great. Well, Meredith... 

Stop. Chewing. My. Name.

— I guess, one last question. What are you looking for in our company?

Great, my favorite question which can be answered simply in one word — money. I mean who doesn't look for a job to earn money, are you kidding? I can do many things for free but these things won't ask for the same level of commitment a job does. And, come on, what else do you expect from an unemployed person in the middle of an era of financial crises? If I was paid for every interview I attended in the last couple of months, I would be richer than you people behind the desk. 

The rage within me completely shutted down my ears, I forgot what I just said to their question. Oh, god, I hope I didn't say the tirade about financial crises era out loud. I think their faces would be different, if I did. Well, all I have left is hope that I said something polite. 

— Perfect. Thank you very much, Meredith, we will be calling you.

The man behind the desk who asked all of the questions stood up. I stood up as well and made a step towards him to shake his hand and take my portfolio back. This is it, the moment I was waiting for — do they like me or not. All of my people-knowledge and analytical skills are turned on. I look the man in the eyes and smile. He smiles back, shakes my hand. His smile is more fake than it was before, I can feel it. You see this kind of smile on the cheap magazines with stock photos on the cover. The woman to my right stood up as well. Oh, she knows I know they don't like me. The man to my left stayed still, I feel like I completely forgot about his existence. He is like a piece of furniture here — his job is to make three of them. Three is a more comfortable number than two, I read it somewhere.

— It was nice meeting you. — The woman gives me her hand to shake. I do that gladly and smile at her as well.

— Thank you for your time. — I say confidently. This is the part of the interview that I love so much. Taking my power back. Already knowing the result and taking it standing straight up. It's like they tried to shoot me, and I just swallowed their bullet and smiled back. I don't care that you don't want me here, because I didn't want to be here in the first place. It's suddenly like I am interviewing them, the switch in power makes my heartbeat faster. 

I turn around and I exit the room, closing the door behind me. Silence was the only thing I left behind in that room. I look around, there are more people like me. They are waiting for their turn to come in and answer the same questions I did just a few minutes ago. I wonder if they can also do the trick I did — leaving with my head up, leaving no chance for failure to beat me down. 

I exit the building and find myself out in the street. A bit cold but I can take it. What's next... No idea. My confidence starts to go away, and I feel the pressure of unemployment pushing me to the ground. My phone rings. 

— Hello? Yes, that's me. Okay, I'll be there tomorrow at 11 a.m. Thank you.

Well, I guess, another interview can't hurt.