Job interview today. Oh what larks.
Having spent the past two hours wittering on about how diplomatic, tactful and generally approachable I am, so please, please, please give me the job, one of the interviewers walked me to the door (probably to make sure I wasn't going to hang around and bribe the staff with cake).
As she shook my hand, and said she'd be in touch, an opportunity presented itself to show her just how fan-fricking-fabulous I am at dealing with difficult situations.
A fellow applicant, who'd been taking part in the group task with me earlier on, noticed I was leaving, and came dashing over to ask if I'd like to come for a drink with him when he was finished.
What I should have said, to prevent embarrassment and protect his feelings, was something along the lines of: 'That would be lovely, but I've got to get back. Why don't you give me your number and we'll do it some other time?'
But, in my eagerness to prove that I am not the sort of girl who will work my way through the male staff, leaving a trail of emotional destruction and sticky stuff behind me, what I actually said was: 'Urm, well, gotta go home, I urm, left my nan in the bath, and the dog needs his medicine and urm, yer, having the carpets shampooed tomorrow so must dash, sorry...byeeee!'
As they say, don't call us...
