This morning was one of those days when you wake up and just know things aren’t going to go as planned. You get an uneasy feeling in the back of your stomach and a little voice starts nagging you with all of the things you could have done to prepare. Could’ve gone to bed earlier. Could’ve woke up earlier. You know.
Today I woke up, started getting ready for my interview. Got deodorant on my dress and had to scrub it out. My tights still hadn’t dried from handwashing the night before. I went to get cash out and the machine was out of order. Had to backtrack and get it from another machine. Tried to exit the building through a shortcut… no through path… had to go around the long way.
None of that mattered because the bus ended up being 10 minutes late. And then two guys didn’t have a clue how to buy a ticket and took 5 minutes to sort it out. We crawled along to the other stops before finally leaving Oxford 15 minutes late. The ride there was fine, but traffic in London was crazy.
I ended up getting in at 11, which incidentally was the same time my interview for unnamed magazine was scheduled for. I arrived 11 minutes late, checked in with reception, waited 5 minutes to have reception tell me that “Mr. So-and-so is too busy to see you. He’ll be in touch to email about another interview time”. In all fairness, the guy from reception was absolutely lovely and apologetic and probably felt terrible for me because I was a red, slightly sweaty mess from the strenuous speed walk in the boiling sun.
But come ON. I traveled for over 2 hours to get there and Mr. So-and-so didn’t even have the decency to walk into the next room and tell me himself that we’d have to reschedule.
It was all I could do not to burst into tears from such a stressful morning.I don’t get how you can be “too busy” to stop for 2 minutes to talk to the person who has just traveled 2 hours for an interview for an unpaid internship. Please have a little respect.
But at least in my adventure today I’ve learned that I probably don’t want to work for Mr. So-and-so. I won’t rule out unnamed magazine as a potential employer, but it certainly won’t be in this department working for this man.
Luckily, I passed a Yo! Sushi on the way back to the bus (and also a couple of shops on Oxford Street) and my mood lightened a bit.
So, thanks Yo! Sushi for brightening my day.