mellow553 (Interlude) — JodeciSo the interview went well. First off, I wore my uncomfortable shoes, because I couldn’t be assed to go out and look for a pair of comfortable (looking) work blacks. I wiped off the black boots my mother bought me just before I came to England.
The toes are scuffed because I wore them through the worst of the snow and hustle and bustle of the commute. I wanted to buy shoe polish, but in the end didn’t bother and just wiped them off. I double padded my little toes and off I went.
I didn’t mind, but I left at a ridiculous two hours before. It took very little time to get to Kings Cross, something like 15 minutes. I was cool the whole time, but got slightly flustered when I got to Bakers Street. Delays on the Circle Line, and the confusing intersection of four separate lines going in two directions kind pissed me off.
Didn’t matter, I got to Kings Cross with 20 minutes to burn and enough time to smoke a cigarette, smile and compliment a little East Indian girl on her pretty beaded suit, buy a Coronation Chicken sandwich at Upper Crust and sit on the train for four minutes before it left.
By comparison, getting to these offices was a lot easier than getting to the last offices. It was twenty, thirty minutes on the train from Kings Cross, and and a short bus ride from the station, I got there with forty minutes to spare.
The dude who interviewed me and I had a rapport, it was a good interview. He and I talked, and he even suggested that he’d send my CV in to another department with vacancies for code. I told him go ahead and do it, but as long as I could still be considered for this position. He very emphatically said no, I was definitely in consideration. Most of the conversation, it was like I was already working there, but that don’t really mean anything.
We chatted for almost two hours, which is rather long for an interview, but I think I made an impression.
I’m still sending out CVs, but you know, that’s the one I want; and I told the dude that.
I took my time and came back. I went to Moorgate instead of King’s Cross, and stopped in a little Indian restaurant and had some food, because I was a little hungry. Then I picked my way back to Queens Park, reading the newspaper and such.
So there it is. My feet hurt me, but it wasn’t unbearable… it wasn’t even too bad. I’m came home and mostly chilled. That’s it.