So strictly speaking, it’s now the day when I found out if I’m through to the first interviews for a job at the BBC. We were supposed to find out on Friday, but for various reasons they weren’t able to get the information to us. Each interview will be one hour long – and they’ve allocated three hour slots per job – so that’s fifteen candidates in total going through to the second stage. Or at least that’s fifteen interviews – I don’t yet know whether people will be represented in more than one of the categories. Twenty-four first-stage candidates narrowed down to fifteen second-stage ones – will I be on that list? I doubt it, frankly. I really do.
I haven’t felt so invested in the outcome of a job application for ages – I think it’s a job I could do well, and perhaps more importantly, that I’d enjoy – but weirdly I don’t think that’s why I’m so nervous. I’m very uncomfortable with the idea of these psychologists analysing my responses. I have become increasingly convinced that they’ll declare me unfit for work in general – and what do you do then? Start a sheep farm? Live in a commune? Take up politics? I’m relatively sure that I can acquit myself well in an interview as well – but my performance in that interview is less important to me at the moment than getting to it.