I have a phobia for interviews.
Multiple job applications in the hopes of landing one. Somehow all of them always come up empty, no phone call, no rejection email, nothing. Someone tell me how we are meant to do these applications because I can’t seem to get it right.
An interview routine is pretty simple for a recent graduate like me. I hate online interviews, so given an option I always ask to meet face to face. I keep it professional on such days. Wake up early, shower and dress up nice. This is one of the rare times I visit my heels collection and pick a pair that I will put on at the elevator and remove as soon as I board my cab.
During the interview, I mingle with a few interviewees that want to talk and we give fake compliments or wishes on who is most likely to get the job. Seriously, deep down we all wish it is given to us, but it’s a room full of five perfect candidates, anyone could get it. Or so you think… On the announcement day, it’s the craziest of them all. The selected person was not even in the interview room. Haibo!!! The bigot was merely setting up some charade where the son of the daughter of whoever the hell it is will get employed at the end of the day.
Btw, that is not cool. Do you know how much cologne and lotion goes to waste at this point.
In other news…
Aphenphosmphobia. A word I cannot even pronounce
Interviews, for me, are pretty much like relationships. Relationships, (well some do not even get to that point of being called a relationship), have a way of making you think like you got it all right, but in reality, you got played. While it looks like you got it right, reality is those applications went down the drain. Revelations will later show you- you were just a meal ticket for a day, or a photo whose face didn’t make it to the papers.
Look at it this way;
First interview always sets the record straight. It is a dream comes true moment. I guess it was probably in some cool cafe with low key boring music, you think you got it right. He has to be the one. His scrawny self makes you feel like you are on top of the world. If you are lucky, you land the job. Play around with the files for a while, get familiar with the script and somehow out of the blues, you are handed your first letter of termination.
Second time is a charm right? You scale things up a little bit. The first interview, gets you shortlisted, the second interview gets you picked for a role. You got too gassed up you didn’t realize everyone at the interview had a leakage and knew more than you did. You were just the temporary assist, while the permanent employee was on maternity leave or something like that. Where do these people disappear to for three months btw?
Like the first round, you are out the door.
By the time you get your third interview, you probably have things figured out. Don’t get your hopes up. But something is different this time, class attracts class. Or so you think. This time you bump into a potential and get an invite for the supposed interview. His promises are amazing, a trip to Diani or Vipingo perhaps over the holiday. Exotic names meant to blow your mind away. You are not entirely excited because you can do that for yourself, but you are touched by the fact that at least, well… at least. The funny thing is these interviews do not materialize. No sit down. No face to face, a lot of promises though. It is tiresome because it gets your hopes up and crushes them.
With the disappointments you get tired of the games and decide that maybe you are one of those beautiful but unlucky cases. So when the fourth interview comes, you are no longer the naïve girl who got excited when a man turned to get a second whiff of your perfume. While you think he is asking for your number, he may be asking about the brand so he could go surprise his girlfriend.
Things take a turn when you get invited for a religious interview. Brother speaks in tongues and can see through your past sins. But the short cuts the job requires you to make assures you both of you may not see heaven.
So long, farewell.
We have drafted proposals, defended our positions, included left out job descriptions that we think we can bring to the table and still nothing. No job.
In short, quarantine day 018 made me realize, there is no difference between philophobia and phobia for interviews. I am scared of interviews as much as relationships. So to all the interviews that failed to turn out right, you must have contributed to my aphenphosmphobia. Anyway, I am preparing for my currently on going interview, Pray for me fellas. He definitely is the one.