As the words leave my mouth, I want to immediately cram them back in there.Moron. Absolute fucking moron.
He places his pen on the table and leans back in his chair. He reminds me of Matt Damon, if Matt Damon was five foot six and almost completely bald. This is going horribly; I just want to leave.
‘You’ve seen the job description; obviously we’re not a huge organisation like Shelter or Crisis, but we need someone to assist with everything from advising on the Charities Act, to dealing with the trustees, to giving legal advice to drop-ins who may be facing homelessness. You’re obviously more than capable of doing the job with some in-house training.’
‘I’m sure I can get up to speed relatively quickly with the appropriate policies,’ I respond eagerly, hoping he’s forgotten everything I’ve previously said. ‘I’m used to working over many different legal disciplines.’
He smiles and closes over his folder.
‘This won’t be like any other place you’ve worked before. I need someone who can deal with Joe Bloggs – who’s been sleeping outside Tesco for the past year – just as competently as they deal with the business side. Our focus is people, Nick. Real people with stories and families and problems, some of whom you’ll have walked past on your way to the office. While you’ll have an important role to play here just like everyone, from Briony on reception to the street fundraisers we have pounding the pavements, I prefer to hire people who are willing to share their stories, just like the people we help.’
‘My story?’
Joseph nods. ‘Tell me about yourself, Nick. What’s not on your CV?
Stuff that makes me look bad, Joe, that’s why it’s not on there. Next question?
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. ‘So. . . um, unfortunately I’m not that interesting, but I’m sure I can apply what I’ve learned in my previous roles to bring something unique and. . .’
Oh God, did his eyes just glaze over?
‘Perhaps a fresh perspective on the current policies which. . .’
I see him subtly glance at his watch. What the hell is this? Why does it matter what my damn story is?
‘So, I think that’s probably all—’
‘Santa!’ I blurt out. ‘. . . I used to be Santa.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Go on. . .’
By the time I’ve told Matt Damon all about my job at Southview Shopping Centre, I know I’ve blown it. An interviewer who goes from impressed to bored to mildly amused doesn’t exactly instil confidence. And neither does a candidate who just told you his calling was to play Santa.
‘I appreciate you being so candid with me. Sounds like quite the experience,’ he says, still smirking. ‘And while you’re being so open, I have one last question for you.’
Why am I still sitting here?
‘Kensington Fox. Why did youreallyleave?’
I pause and look at the table. Here goes. . .
‘I left Kensington Fox because they asked me to.’
As I look up, I see Joseph nod, waiting for me to continue.
‘I think I became disillusioned by the nonsense which came with a job like that. I became complacent. And while arguments could be made that my dismissal wasn’tentirelymy doing, they were absolutely right to let me go. Although I regret the way I handled things, I wouldn’t change anything because it’s shown me that I’m capable of being better. . . of doing things I never thought possible, and I know I could bring that to the role here. I think everyone deserves a second chance.’
Joseph shakes my hand and says he’ll be in touch, but my gut feeling tells me otherwise. I thank him for his time and walk back to the station, knowing that the next time I hear from him will be by letter with a short, sharp rejection, possibly followed by a recommendation for a therapist.
That evening, I agree to watch Alfie again so Sarah and Matt can finish the date they barely started the other night. I’m happy to; the last thing I need is to be sitting at home wondering if my interview went as horribly as I think it did.
‘I thought we’d watchJumanji,’ I say to Alfie. ‘I hear the new version is really good.’
‘Can we have popcorn? We have some in the cupboard.’
‘Fine by me,’ I reply. ‘But check with your mum first.’
Tell me about yourself, Nick. What’s not on your CV?
