‘We should be in touch by the weekend,’ they said at my interview on Wednesday. Thursday I felt twitchy. Yesterday I felt sick. My phone didn’t leave my hand. (Actually that’s not unusual – you’ve gotta be on top of your WordPress notifications, right? But I don’t normally check my email every 15 minutes.) I had to put it on charge twice through the day (still keeping it to hand).
But no call came. I checked I’d given them the right phone number. I checked my phone was working. I checked my answerphone. I sat by the door waiting for the post. Nada. Niente. Nothing.
Well, how rude.
Then the various scenarios started taking over.
Obviously I haven’t got the job. The other person obviously must have nailed it. Maybe they’re just waiting for him/her to accept their offer before letting me know. But why is he/she heel-dragging? I would have said ‘yes’ straight away. Really they should have picked me.
Or maybe the other person had to re-schedule their interview. Flaky. Obviously I have already proven greater enthusiasm, availability and reliability. Surely the job should be mine. So what if they’ve got experience and a proven track record? So why haven’t they let me know?
Or maybe the interviews were so close that they’re having trouble deciding.
Or maybe a third person has thrown their hat into the ring, in which case I’m sunk. The chances of two other people applying with absolutely no reason for doing so and them both being horrible, stupid people are beyond Kate Moss slim.
I’m not going to get the job, am I? Which is bad, because in my head I’ve already picked what to wear on my first day and am sat at my new desk. If…when…they tell me ‘no’ I’m going to cry. I always cry.
I’m going to need to work on my stiff upper lip, to learn how to be gracious in defeat. To work on my loser face.
Where better to look than Hollywood? Having to accept defeat (possibly multiple times over) whilst the world AND your peers are watching as that Oscar statuette disappears from your dreams – it takes some doing to pull off grace and dignity under such circumstances. After all who doesn’t hope for an Oscar one day? Imagine how it must be to be within touching point and to be let down! Although I’m sure the vast millions in the bank, diamonds on loan from Harry Winston and proximity to George Clooney help off-set the agony.
Actually, that’s a good starting point. Could someone please send George round ASAP so he could be horrified on my behalf when I don’t get the job. Shouldn’t be too hard – we are engaged, albeit in a parallel universe after all.
But I’d still have to make it through the phone call before I could dissolve into tears on George’s shoulder.
Now, I need to tighten my resolve before I dissolve, but I don’t want to come across as a sourpuss like Taylor Swift.
An attempt at an air of indifference only thinly disguising being clearly disappointed and a tad pissed off like Bill Murray doesn’t fool anyone either.
And swearing under my breath à la Samuel Jackson might not be the most professional approach.
But overly-gushy, might not cut it either. Cate Blanchett, I’ll leave the over-excitement in the face of disappointment to you.
On balance, I think Leonardo DiCaprio needs to be my loser muse. I’ll well up slightly, but fight back the tears and graciously offer my warm thanks to the victor.
Actually, if I can pull that off then I should be up for an Oscar for best actress in a supportive role.
Ultimately I think my best bet is to arrange a Skype call and swish around in a fancy frock. That way, Jennifer Lawrence can be my inspiration, be it good news or bad.
If I don’t get the job I can fall gracefully to the floor. The tears may be ugly, but at least my gown will look fabulous.
And if by some miracle I do get the job, I can be all cool about it. ‘Oh yeah, no worries – I knew I had it in the bag!’
Thank you, Jen, for being so ace. I’m onto a winner even if I lose.