It was a sunny afternoon sometime around October 2004. My dad had seen this ad for a job in the newspaper and told me to apply as it was for an English company and my portuguese was poor. I sent my CV through and was called shortly after for an interview. Not because my CV was any great, but probably because I was a young girl who could easily be moulded into whatever they wanted of their employees, and my english was good.
My dad drove me to Hotel Altis where the interview would be held. We talked in the car a bit as I was early. My dad said I would rock, but I knew better.
It was time. I fiddled for the door handle and got out of the car, my then skinny legs shaking so much I could hardly stand up. I felt sick to my stomach, tears trying to get out, but I managed to keep it all in. I always do. I considered not going through with the interview at all. I told dad we should just go home which shocked him, because I have attitude and he thinks I am tough. Most people do. But there’s the talk and there’s the walk. Big difference!
So now I am at it again. A company has accepted my application and I have been having something that seems like exciting versions of panic attacks.
The first interview, a video call, was with a lady I had emailed with. I forgot what her questions were in the middle of my answer; my mind starts wondering and I ask myself “am I making any sense”? I observe my hands shaking and wonder when the saliva will come back. And to add to the stress, she can see me but I cannot see her.
Surprisingly I pass onto the next interview, this time with the founder of the company. I read about him beforehand, a real hot-shot with loads of experience and only 10 years older than me. God, I am so behind! This time I was more prepared, only they call me during lunch and asked if I could do the call “now” instead of in 4 hours. So in about five seconds I have cleared the dining table, kicked out my husband and turned on the computer. I sit there waiting for the video call and suddenly remember, THE WINE! I told you I had prepared, but with the change of time I got confused. I take those shaky legs and run into the kitchen, find a bottle of red and quickly pour some into my old water-glass and some on the floor. I am lucky, I manage to drink the whole glass and check my teeth for stains before he actually calls. And do half a Sudoku game!
I felt that this second interview went a little better, thank you red wine for that! But why oh why do they not have cameras their end? It is not fair that I know they are seeing me and I can’t see them! Is it on purpose I wonder?