Last Thursday, at 10:00 a.m. I had my very first phone interview with a company in Charlotte. The interview, however, was conducted by a man who was in the UK and was 5 hours ahead. After a few exchanges of email, we “fixed” on a time to chat over the phone. I’ve never had a phone interview before.
I guess you could look at it like an open-note test. You know, the ones your AP teachers gave you in high school where a few of the questions were nearly impossible? Well, this wasn’t nearly an impossible interview, in-fact, I thought it went extremely well.
I awoke on Thursday morning at approximately 6:54 a.m. and went to the gym, at a time I would normally exercise should I be employed. I knew this would get my endorphin’s going and make me feel really great. I returned home, ate breakfast, took off old nail polish and then showered. I dried my hair completely, flipped on my flat iron, finished my hair and applied makeup. I I knew the interviewer wouldn’t actually be able to see me, but the fact was, I wanted to be prepared from the inside out, just like I would be for an in-person meeting. I picked out a solid outfit: J.Crew No. 2 Pencil Skirt in black and a beautiful Vince dolman sleeve cashmere sweater that I scored/splurged on from RueLaLa a few years ago. I carefully tucked the sweater in to make my outfit look like a dress and slipped on my never-fail Tory flats. I was ready. Until out of the corner of my eye I saw my Burberry scarf hanging from the closet. For good measure, since the company was based out of the UK, I slipped it around my neck.
I took a seat in the office in front of the computer approximately 12 minutes prior to 10:00 a.m. The interviewer didn’t know I was ready. But I was more than on-time, I was early. I carefully pulled my resume out, made sure my phone had enough battery (even though I knew it did) and sat up as straight as I possibly could. There’s a clock in the office that makes that ticking noise and I felt like I was in a movie. Then, out of nowhere, my dad’s computer started dinging left and right. Oh. My. Gosh. 5 minutes to go. STOP this noise. He had rebooted it earlier that day and the computer was having trouble functioning or something and tried to keep opening a window but it wouldn’t work so it kept alerting me that nothing was happening. The mouse was going berserk and I couldn’t keep it under control to try and close whatever was happening. The volume control wouldn’t adjust and I had less than 2 minutes to go.
Thank goodness, remember, the interviewer couldn’t see me.
My phone lit up with that no-area code, multiple city code, European digit looking number; I grabbed my things and went into the hallway and set up shop. Notepad, pen, resume, sticky note reminders, let’s do this.
19 minutes of long-distance talking later, I hung up the phone and felt accomplished. I was one of 9 phone interviews chosen out of 200 resumes! That, in itself I felt should be celebrated.
I met for lunch with my best friend and then later went to a friend’s who wasn’t feeling well.
The next day, the mantra “a watched pot never boils,” swirled around in my brain. I went through my normal routine of the day trying not to think to much about anything but by afternoon the pit hit my stomach. I knew very well that it was the evening in the UK.
I didn’t get the job.
While I was certainly disappointed but must the faith that this particular position with this company just wasn’t meant to be.
I’m travelling to Charlotte again this week, this time, with my little sister. I have a coffee meeting in the morning and an interview set for the afternoon. I’m incredibly grateful for this opportunity and will continue to pray that my hard work and applications will cross the right HR desk, destined for a position within Mar/Comm. Luckily, on Friday, I won’t have to worry about any dinging computers in the background.
Until next time,