Thursday, September 13, 2012

Your attention please... Not!

  Seeing as how I was going from pillar to post for any job interview, it didn't come as a surprise to my folks when I grandly announced I wanted to give being an air-hostess a shot. I'd been coming up with random professions now and then, so they presumed this was one of those bouts of madness that would soon pass, once the initial rush of doing something "glamorous" wore off... But it didn't. To this day I have no idea what made me even sign up for the interview, but I'd like to put it down as the things one has to attempt at doing, at least once in their lifetime.
    I went shopping for a formal skirt, shirt and stockings, I watched videos on how to wear one's hair in an elegant bun and I got a full manicure and pedicure done. I was all preened for the 'photo session' of sorts so they'd see a full length me before they encountered the real hulk-of-a-figure me.
   I breezed into the office with my Mommy dearest (yes I've taken my mum to a job interview!) and went into the allocated waiting room. I entered, and it hit me.... A multitude of perfume scents hit me. The room had about 10 girls, dressed in smart itty-bitty formal skirts that made mine look like an open umbrella in comparison. They all came in various shapes, but one size. Zero.
     All waif like, extremely made up (they even knew the names of the brushes with which they kept reapplying make up) and quite nervous. I struck up a conversation with one pretty young thing, just fresh out of high school and she launched off on an essay she knew by rote about our country. I was beginning to fret about not having a patriotic speech myself (to serve what end, I'm not sure) when my name was called out for the interview.
    I just about managed to stand up in heels (that made me reach almost 6 feet) and swayed dangerously because my center of gravity changed. It's a wonder how I reached the other room without falling. (I tend to specialize in doing that, especially at places where I go to give interviews) On going inside, I faced a bored but heavily made up lady who at first didn't acknowledge me. It must've taken a lot to do that, because at the risk of sounding immodest, I'm not the kind that one can easily look through. I can assure you I probably have a two digit number before the zero of size zero. People cannot even pretend to skim over my head because they'd have to end up looking at the fan if they did. So after about 2 minutes of looking in every direction save mine, she smiled and gestured for me to sit down.
    Her opening question, about why I wanted to join the airline didn't take me by surprise. I went off into a soliloquy about why I thought it was one of the best in the industry, 'cause it catered to the needs of the consumers while being economically sound and also provided the best facilities second to none though it was started barely a decade ago by a spirited group of entrepreneurs and that the airline had raked in profits faster than.... She gave me a glassy stare much like the look you perhaps have on reading all this. I stopped mid sentence much to her relief (and mine, because I didn't know where I was headed with all the amassed information from Wikipedia) She quickly stated that they'd call me if I'd been selected and concluded the interview.
     Turns out, I didn't make the cut because I was too, umm, "heavy" for the job. I think there's a reason they choose girls who weigh a few milligrams more than an airbag. It's so the airline's assured of the planes taking off lest they can't be airborne, because of crew that might hinder the process!
     I can't say I was let down about it, because I know I wouldn't be happy in a place where I'd only worry about the bristles of 'Shadow large' or 'Flat top small' getting tangled. Or a place where I'd eat an almond a day and feel fat. And most of all in a work environment where I cannot talk or discuss ideas, however obtuse, without being given the glassy eyed stare for it.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Attending Blessed Interviews.

That's it! I've had it with attending annoying job interviews! It's irritating to have to go say the same things over and over to a new set of people and be over-enthusiastic (about their company, like it's what you were born to do) zealous (about feeding in complaint forms all day), and convinced one can make a significant contribution to whatever the hell one's supposed to contribute to and be genuine about it. In the last 4 months, I may have attended half a dozen interviews and each has been worse and the outcomes more dreadful than the previous ones.
      First off, I have a major axe to grind with these Corporate companies. EVERYTHING about them is so intimidating, beginning from the phone interview each insists on. I know, and the person on the other side knows that we'd both be comfortable if we spoke in a language that doesn't scream 'Oh-we're-so-erudite'!!
      So yeah, maybe they work for a foreign firm, but does one HAVE to have a clipped accent and make use of words like 'proliferation', 'impediment' and 'furtherance'?!! What am I, a dictionary?! Till I figure the word going by the context, I've lost sight of the question. And asking them to repeat themselves is another sin! It's all very well in theory to ask them to please go over it again, but if you do it in practice, they're already putting you down for a retard.
     Then it's dealing with the volley of questions. They can range from the older-than-the-pyramids kind of questions like 'Can you tell us something about yourself?" to stuff that's as random as "How many barbers do you reckon there are in this city?"... Well, seeing as how I did NOT work in the Barber-shops counting industry, I couldn't really help my interviewer.
      Then there's also the dressing well, and ensuring that the posture in which you sit, shows just the right degree of eagerness. Too much, and your salary gets non-negotiable, too little and : "You're qualifications are impressive but we don't have an opening for your profile at the moment"
       I think going for an interview and emerging victorious is a dying art (It was pronounced brought dead in my case) But I'm not going to give up. So long as there are people who call me to their offices and get my expert opinion on how many bales of hair barber shops get rid of in a day, I'm going to find plenty use of my time.