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Another agency has just called me to ask if I wouldn't mind interviewing for a more senior role - same company - parent group of the division I went to before... Effectively as 'tarquin's' boss.
What do you think?
It has got to be done if only to change Tarquin's behaviour for the better for ever. It is a duty you must perform for the Greater Good.
Their loss. Did you really want to work with people who've such poor judgement?
I had a bad interview a few months ago. The guy met me in reception and didn't speak all the way up to the meeting room and didn't offer coffee. Felt it was a lost cause before the interview started!
A female joined us; he said she'd be conducting the interview. She asked a couple of questions then he took over and from then on she hardly got a word in edgeways. At the end he chucked a few simple mental arithmetic sums at me!! Then he went - she was looking though a file, clearly angry. I mentioned something I'd done; she said "oh yes, I can see that, I'm just reading your CV" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Heard later from people who'd worked there that I'd had a very lucky escape!
So Que sera etc. - you're probably better off without them. And the bag is all ready for next time.
Most interviews seem fairly sane these days, compared with the surreal experiences I sometimes had twenty or thirty years ago.
At one place the interviewer was a dead ringer for Heinrich Himmler (without the SS uniform, although he'd doubtless like to have worn one), nasty beady little eyes behind steel-rimmed glasses and a sinister air of cold deliberation.
At the start, he carefully laid out a red biro on the left side of his pad and a black one on the right side, and after my reply to each question he would purse his lips, and after careful reflection decide which pen to pick up and write a note.
Needless to say, it soon became clear that the red pen was for a bad answer and the black one for an acceptable answer. So of course after each reply I sat there wondering which pen he would pick up. I soon decided I wouldn't work for the weirdo even if offered the job, and then started giving comically bad answers, to see how quickly I could make him reach for the dreaded red pen ("Testing? Oh no I don't see much point in that. Surely it's easier to let the users find the bugs isn't it?" and so on)
The wierdest one was at an IT security company in the 1990s named "Indici Sillus" (latin for somthing but dunno what) around central London, the interview was 10am, the main bloke was ok but he brought in a techie in with him who had his eyes closed for the majority of the interview, at first I thought he was blind but then I realised that he was nodding off.
I'm not that boring I just thought that the guy was being a bit rude nodding off like that whilst I was talking !
Most interviews seem fairly sane these days, compared with some of the surreal experiences I sometimes had twenty or thirty years ago.
At one place the interviewer was a dead ringer for Heinrich Himmler (without the SS uniform, although he'd doubtless like to have worn one), nasty beady little eyes behind steel-rimmed glasses and a sinister air of cold deliberation.
At the start, he carefully laid out a red biro on the left side of his pad and a black one on the right side, and after my reply to each question he would purse his lips, and after careful reflection decide which pen to pick up to write a note.
Needless to say, it soon became clear that the red pen was for a bad answer and the black one for an acceptable answer. So of course after each reply I sat there wondering which pen he would pick up. I soon decided I wouldn't work for the weirdo even if offered the job, and then started giving comically bad answers, to see how quickly I could make him reach for the dreaded red pen ("Testing? Oh no I don't see much point in that. Surely it's easier to let the users find the bugs isn't it?" and so on)
Another weird one was in central London, for a contract in Saudi Arabia, a town called Al Khobar. This was in 1991 just before Gulf War 1, during which the Iraqis lobbed scud missiles at that very town, or invaded or something. I don't recall exactly, but it sounded pretty hairy at the time and I was glad I hadn't got the contract.
Anyway, the interview was in a ramshackle old building up several flights of creaky stairs, and I was accompanied part way up these by a doddery old retainer in something vaguely resembling a security guard's uniform.
On the second floor, he muttered "this is where I peel off" meaning, as I realized later, toddle off to some little cubby hole and leave me to continue up stairs alone. But at the time, with the creaking stairs and the guy's wheezing, all I caught was "peel off" which I naturally assumed meant "strip" for some bizarre purpose that I hadn't anticipated.
For some reason that completely threw me for the rest of the interview, and the interviewer was amazed at the end when I asked if they would be doing a medical.
Interviews are like going on the pull. (casts his mind back 15+ years).
Sometimes it goes great but she never phones or answers the call, other times the odd looking one suddenly looks like Jessica Alba and she thinks you are a dead ringer for Alec Baldwin (I am if you screw your eyes up real tight and consume a bottle of vodka) , other times you think you failed to impress but she totally gets you.
Kiss a lot of frogs dahlink. Don't worry, until you actually worry if they respect you in the morning, not if they put out. Much easier than worrying about it. I've done plenty of interviews both sides of the desk and you are never sure about all of them.
Chin up, Remember 'it ain't over till the fat cheque clears!'
RH do it you know you want to! Tarquin needs the experience.
Another weird one was in central London, for a contract in Saudi Arabia, a town called Al Khobar. This was in 1991 just before Gulf War 1, during which the Iraqis lobbed scud missiles at that very town, or invaded or something. I don't recall exactly, but it sounded pretty hairy at the time and I was glad I hadn't got the contract.
Anyway, the interview was in a ramshackle old building up several flights of creaky stairs, and I was accompanied part way up these by a doddery old retainer in something vaguely resembling a security guard's uniform.
On the second floor, he muttered "this is where I peel off" meaning, as I realized later, toddle off to some little cubby hole and leave me to continue up stairs alone. But at the time, with the creaking stairs and the guy's wheezing, all I caught was "peel off" which I naturally assumed meant "strip" for some bizarre purpose that I hadn't anticipated.
For some reason that completely threw me for the rest of the interview, and the interviewer was amazed at the end when I asked if they would be doing a medical.
Iraq was lobbing Scuds at everyone during that particular happy event.
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