Almost two years ago now, I was taking my driving test. I was taking my test over and over, and getting nowhere. I kept failing and felt like I was being failed for stupid things I couldn't have helped. Jon was in a similar situation, and when we would fail a test the other would come to the pub, and we'd drink and insult driving test examiners. We'd also discuss ways of trying to get an advantage. At one point, Jon was considering shaving his head. He planned to shave his head and when the examiner asked the usual question of "what would you normally be doing at this time?" he would explain how he had been out of work for a while, because he hadn't been well... And let a connection be made. In the end, he decided that implying a terminal illness just wasn't something to be taken lightly. He did pass in the end, without any implied sickness -- although he did claim to have recently been made redundant. He also gave me some tips on how to pass, such as making sure you constantly talk to the examiner so they are too distracted to pick you up for minor faults and so they don't think you are too nervous. A tall task for me, since as a rule with people I usually just prefer to stay quiet.
Just the same, after I saw it was not impossible and he had done it, I went out and passed my test myself -- taking his advice.
I still remember the feeling. We'd been driving around for however long, and had finally arrived back at the test centre. But we arrived back with one manoeuvre still to complete. I don't remember which I had already done, probably the three-point-turn in the road, but either way we got back and he asked me to stop. And then reverse into a parking space. I got this feeling in my stomach, and I just knew I had passed, or would pass if I could just complete this last task -- one that I had done thousands of times before, and could do almost with my eyes closed.
I came mere fractions away from screwing it up. The space I had to reverse into was up a slight incline, and with my nervousness and wanting to take it slow and do it right, I stalled the car twice. I knew what was resting on getting this right. Fortuna smiled on me, and I did complete it -- and I could have hugged the old bastard when he told me I had passed. If I had stalled the car a third time I would have failed my test again, having got so far.
About a year later, in a job interview I got that same feeling in my stomach. Halfway through an interview where I had found myself involved in a discussion with the interviewer about the significance and beauty of the green light on the dock in The Great Gatsby, I got that feeling and thought "I've got this job".
Maybe that was why I was so bitterly disappointed when I found out I hadn't got the job after all.
That was the first time I'd has an interview and really believed I had passed. The second time was a few months back, way the hell out in a place called Turnham Green, which I think is in South London. I'd stumbled into the interview, been surprised when I found out it was for a job and not with a recruitment consultant, but came away thinking I might just have blagged my way into some business-to-business tech PR job. Obviously, I didn't get the job. Although they never told me why, I could list the reasons they probably chose from.
Then more recently was the job in Brighton where the interviewer told me how much he liked me both as a person and as a candidate and how much he thought we had in common. Looking back, it seems unclear if he was asking me out for dinner or about to offer me a job. But in the end, he did neither. I just got a letter in the post one day, saying; "sorry, no". His reservations about me at the time he confessed were that I didn't already live in the area. I guess it was just a local job for local people.
So last week when I had a good interview, I didn't get my hopes up. I didn't tell anyone "I think I might have got this one", despite the funny feeling in my tummy. I've begun to learn it means nothing, and didn't want to look silly when they didn't give me the job. This was last Monday. They were supposed to let me know by Wednesday, but when I called my recruiter I was told they had liked the three or four candidates for the job too much to choose, and would make their decision by Monday instead.
I knew they liked me. They;d made a point of saying they liked me, and particularly liked that I was a photographer -- since the job would involve to some degree an eye for photographs and some uploading/maintenance of them.
On Monday my recruiter was out of the office. She was difficult to get hold of today, but eventually I was told "sorry, no". Despite apparently being their favourite candidate, late last week I'm told they were told about someone who had recently been made redundant, and on interviewing her, she was hired right away.
Sometimes I feel with each progressive interview I'm a little closer to that elusive permanent job that would give me the opportunity to move and really start my own life. But so often they already know who they are going to hire before the interviews, and you might be the best person they see but you are just told you don't have the right chemistry, or aren't quite the right "fit" for the team.
And never again will I ever speculate I think I might have got the job, because I know it's just not true -- and never, ever to believe a good feeling.
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