Diary: Fiasco

Dear friends, I think I blew the job interview. I could never tell anyone at home about it, so I am ever so grateful to have you to share my secrets and 'coveries with, even though this one is really embarrassing. (And if you want to hear about it, please excuse the rude language.) I will honestly try to tell the whole story. Brrr...

I reported at the front desk and was asked to sit down and wait for my would-be boss. While I waited (standing, of course) I noticed that the office building seemed very elegant, which probably made me even more nervous. At least, that is the only explanation I have for what happened.

When my would-be boss arrived (let's call him Mr. J for convenience), he studied me for a moment, and then he spoke, in good English but with a bit of an accent. To me, the first thing he said sounded like 'Well, you look h***y'. I blushed instantly, and said 'Excuse me, Sir?' He looked a little surprised, and replied 'I said that you look at home here.' Mortified, I got into the elevator with him.

Naturally I motioned for him to go first, but he didn't go very far in, so I placed myself in the corner near the elevator wall to keep a minimum conversation distance. The elevator doors closed and we continued to talk, when he came closer and awkwardly reached around my hips. I realized that I was blocking the elevator buttons, but with me in the corner and Mr. J having his arm out, I couldn't move without bumping into him, so I had to remain there for a long time, terribly ashamed of my clumsiness, while Mr. J felt around for the correct button behind me.

Finally he found it, and we rode a couple of floors up, while he continued to tell me about the job. All of a sudden I thought he said 'Only thing about this job is you need to be naked.' Again, I had to ask him to please say it again, and he looked as surprised as before, and repeated 'Only thing about this job is you need to be awake'. Oh, the shame!

He guided me through the main open landscape office, and briefly exchanged a few comments in Swedish about me with some co-workers. Then he opened an office door, and to my confused (and still red) ears, he seemed to be saying 'Come on in, I'll s***w you'. I had to ask again, and he repeated 'Come on in, I'll show you'. Smiling, he added 'Is my English that bad?' I could only shake my head, and mutter that it was all my fault.

Standing in the small office, we talked some more, and I handed Mr. J my resume. He sat down in a chair by the wall to study it, and motioned for me to sit down in the chair next to his. At this point I must have been dizzy, because I was convinced that Mr. J had removed his hand from the chair seat before I sat down, but when I sat down his hand was still there, palm up, so I sat right on (or in) his hand, which of course immediately tried to close around the unexpected weight. With a gasp I flew out of the chair and apologized, but Mr. J just waved the incident away.

By now I was sure that I had spoiled my chances, but Mr. J put my resume away after a brief look and walked over to a desk, where some photo negatives were placed under a magnifying glass plate. He activated a light under the negatives, and asked me to study the pictures carefully and tell him what I saw, and what I thought might need retouching. (Actually, he phrased it a bit strange, but now I understood him fine.) I leaned down over the glass plate and started sharing my observation. Mr. J remained behind me, so I couldn't see his reactions, but I thought I did decently well. However, when I finished and got up, he just said 'Continue, there's more. Look closely!', and then he walked over and sat down in a chair by the other side of the desk to study me, while I leaned down over the pictures again. I racked my brains to come up with more clever observations, and managed to keep going for a few minutes longer even though the mood in the room somehow felt very strange, while Mr. J silently observed. Finally I despaired and probably gave him a begging glance, because he smiled reassuringly and got up from behind the desk.

'Thank you, very entertaining' he said, and shook my hand dismissively. 'Sorry about the…' I mumbled and gave the chairs by the wall a quick look. 'Not at all', Mr. J replied.

And then my exhausted brain, swirling from the strange mood in the room, seemed to pick up him saying 'I'm sure you're good in bed.' 'Excuse me, please?' I said, but as far as I could tell, he just firmly repeated 'I'm sure you're good in bed'.

At my wit's end, I just thanked him and left the room, briefly feeling lost in the office landscape full of strange, Swedish-speaking people outside before I saw the elevator, and started the hike back home.

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