Interview preparation, and possibly how not to do it

Job interviews are HARD. I go in intending to have the self confidence and general awesomeness of this:

What actually happens is this:

The only bright side to my current round of interviews is that my current employer knows they're happening, which means at least I don't have to come up with an increasingly large roster of dead relatives and hospital appointments. This is about the only good side.

I haven't done any interviews for a long while, and I haven't done a successful interview for even longer, so to say I'm out of practice would be an understatement. Before we even get to the interview itself, there's all the stuff around it. In my case, this has involved buying an interview suit that actually fits, wearing in a new pair of shoes, and remembering where I had put all of my see-through piercing gauges. (I am aware I am getting too old to be as heavily pierced as I am, but there we go.) This is more difficult than I remembered, although that said I've never been very good at shopping.

After that, there's the travel arrangements. I'm quite good at negotiating my way around public transport systems – if you can work out Salzburg, you can do anything – but getting to London in time for an interview without re-mortgaging your house is a difficult task. I don't even have a house to re-mortgage. That's just depressing. Plus, you have to find the interview location itself. One recent interview gave me a map to their office from the train station. Like a fool, I trusted it, which led to me wandering in circles around a suburban Surrey town for forty five minutes last week. NEVER AGAIN.

Then you have to prepare for the interview. Now, there's a fair amount of research you can do using the internet and a bit of nous, but there are a great deal of unknowns. You have to put together a question to ask,which is nigh on impossible, and try to remember your own work history and how it links in with the company and the job description. Chances are your application was some time in the distant past, so you also have to remember the spin you put on it as well.

I haven't heard anything back from any of the interviews I've had thus far, so I have no idea just how badly I crashed and burned in any of them, or if indeed the preparation listed above was any use. All the preparation in the world doesn't make a damn difference, because you can't control how well you do or do not get on with someone. Or indeed, my tendency to babble a little. 

I have another interview next week too, hence the fact I'm typing this rather than actually doing said preparation. Fingers crossed at least one of them comes back with something positive, and I can get on with everything else to do with moving across the whole country, i.e. freaking out about the sheer amount of stuff we own and making some fairly random donations to the various charity shops in my local area.

Review: Divine Women (BBC2, Wednesdays 9pm)

I have a lot of love for history documentaries on the telly. I'm often a little leery of programs that seek to Overturn Our Understanding Of History!!!1 (I'm looking at you, Niall Ferguson) but it can be a genuine pleasure when a historian genuinely seeks to shed light on an unconsidered period of history. As such, I've been quietly enjoying Divine Women, written and presented by Bettany Hughes who mostly specialises in ancient history. As a rule, that's not really my area – can't get my head around such an alien landscape. Hughes makes it sound effortless and wonderfully romantic, which is quite the skill.

This newest series looks at the role of women in religion throughout history, with previous programmes (at the time of writing, only the first two episodes had aired) on the mother goddess in various cultures, and ancient priestesses. Hughes is wonderfully enthusiastic and infectious in her joy, although she spends too often nodding away at historical experts who are a little superfluous at times.

More contentious, unsurprisingly, is also Hughes examination of modern religions and the role of women in them. I can see why Hughes takes the time to speak to experts here, as it keeps her detached from the subject.. She remains carefully detached from all she sees in terms of belief, instead looking at the effects and emotions presented rather than whether or not there was a Mary Magdalene or indeed an Aphrodite. There was a great look at the present-day traditions around the Hindu goddess Durga. I was pleased to see, however, that exactly the same 'travelogue' style was presented around modern day Christian beliefs, all academic with very little judging.

From a feminist perspective, though, I've found the programmes so far to be fascinating and a little depressing. Although women can be strong and represent often terrifying goddesses, there's example after example of women who are stomped down on and unable to expert any power or control except out of the odd ritual. Even the odd rituals have slowly been stamped out in most of the Western world, which on contemplation is really very depressing. Even as the rest of the world moves forward in terms of women's liberation (agonisingly slowly as it sometimes seems), many religions are moving backwards.

Overall, it's well worth a watch for an introduction for ancient religious beliefs and for the role of women throughout history, and I'm looking forward to further episodes.

Undergraduates: unexpectedly terrifying

Still pimping out for any guest posts people want to send towards me!

In the meanwhile, a couple of vignettes from a few days back at the alma matar.

Within a pub, on a society pub crawl I have basically crashed via knowing some of the older participants

Me: Man, I used to love those old X-Men cartoons.

First year student: What, X-Men Evolution?

Me: No, the ones that were on before Live and Kicking, remember?

First year student: What's Live and Kicking?

Me: I NEED ANOTHER DRINK.

At a flat of a friend, with her younger flatmate.

Flatmate: Yeah, she's like a mature student or something, she was born in 1989!

Me: I WAS BORN IN 1987 LESS OF THE MATURE.

Flatmate: Some of the first years were born in 1994!

Me: Excuse me while I go and cry in the corner and look up Botox treatments.

Man, I'm getting old.

Stuff

My stats just jumped massively. Hello, all of you international sorts! Bet you think I'm about to put something intellectual.

To be quite honest I'm in my pajamas, eating a packet of Refreshers and watching Don't Tell The Bride. LIVING THE DREAM. And my next planned post is Surviving The Christmas Party, ready for all of you hitting the town this weekend with your colleagues. Oh yeah.

However, this is a mildly serious post in order to wish the best of luck to everyone on strike tomorrow, which includes both of my parents. I will not be on strike tomorrow, as I work in the private sector, and there is no relevant union to my industry. I completely support the strike. To everyone on the picket lines: dress up warm, and if I pass one, I will honk in support.

Young Apprentice

I quite like Young Apprentice. Although I appreciate that most of the contestants are chosen because they are good telly, I like that there is a genuine effort to try and encourage them. There's slightly less of Nick's raised eyebrows and slightly more emphasis on when they do well.

I also appreciate that 16-17 year old teenagers are, shall we say, still developing. Many of them are actually showing great promise. However, some of them are not. I'm not saying they never will, I'm just saying that at the moment they are, well, teenagers.

(Hark at me. I'm 24, for goodness sake.)

Last night's episode consisted of the two teams creating a new deodorant for the teenage market. Like all Apprentice episodes, I found myself gnawing my own hands off out of sheer embarrassment. I felt sure that at the end either Posh Harry or Boofy Hair James would go. I would have been pleased by this as a result. Both of them need, essentially, a massive failure. A bit of a failure is good for the soul, in my opinion. Failing my music GCSE was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, as it gave me a well-needed smackdown and an appreciation that I couldn't do everything.

Instead, Designer Gbemi went. I admit, she irritated me as well, but I failed to see how the task was her failure.

My heart sank a little when I realised that they were keeping Boofy Hair James and Posh Harry in for telly reasons. In the adult edition, I would understand this, as it means that you get a cracking interview episode. But for the teenage edition, I'm a little skeevy about it. All that happens is that they build those two up further, or alternatively they will be killed in the house by their fellow contestants. The others are taught that attention-seeking is the way forward. Teenagers are taught the same thing.

I am sure that in the end there will be a worthy winner, and I will still watch it every Monday night to get my Apprentice fix, but there we go.

That said, teenagers may as well get into business and learning to rip each other's metaphorical throats out early because it's not like there's enough jobs for them. Perhaps I am old-fashioned.

Graduate Myth #5: Culture

It was assumed by my parents that by the time I came out of university I would an utterly unbearable cultural snob. This is not an unfair reflection on them, or indeed on me. When I was seventeen, I went to The Theatre. I watched ballet on the telly at Christmas. They felt that in some way this meant I would go to university and the last of my working-class credentials would be wiped away, and I would never watch the Big Brother finale with my mother ever again.

Quietly, I thought this might be the case as well. I hoped I would come out a witty urbanite who could appreciate cutting edge music, jazz, art, theatre, and all kinds of literature. I was seventeen. You show me people who aren't utterly unbearable at seventeen.

Now I am a graduate, and although I have made the effort to read some Classic Literature, I've only been to any kind of theatre to see Russell Howard perform live, the only classical music I've got around to appreciating recently was the Horrible Histories prom and last year I watched Josie Gibson triumph in the Big Brother finale. (I didn't even have to Google her name there.) Ironically, my mum was at a donkey festival in Spain at the time. There's a moral there, but I'm not sure what.

What I should have taken more notice of when I was seventeen is that what I really liked to read was Terry Pratchett, and thought Doctor Who was the best thing on telly. Crucially, this is still the case.

Unless what you're studying at university is “Cultural Stuff To Annoy Your Parents”, chances are your personality won't radically change in the few years you faff about at university. If you are a budding witty urbanite, university will give you the opportunity to indulge this. If you want to watch plays, learn about opera and attend free jazz concerts, then chances are this is the best time to do so. And why not? It's a wonderful opportunity that, if you were a slightly odd sururbanite like myself, you wouldn't have received otherwise. In university, I did go to some plays, acted in one, and took the time to go to some live music performances, but that was about it. I was and am frankly indifferent to things like art and opera, although I do enjoy a musical here and there.

The thing university did give me was the opportunity to be more well-rounded in my reading, because this was something I already enjoyed doing. To be honest, though, I mostly watch TV. True Blood and The Great British Bake-Off tonight, for those interested.

The thing university really taught me, at the end of the day, was to skim read enough broadsheets to blag my way through most topics. Secretly, I think that's the key to being really cultured.

Which leads on to my final point. Whilst wandering through SeasideTown on yet another fruitless quest to find a greengrocer in walking distance (see what I did there?) I saw this little piece of art. “Ooooh,” I thought, and snapped a picture on my phone. I know enough to work out that this is either a Banksy, or someone inspired by him.

So? What do you think? Or have you all been faking culture too?

Graduate Myth #3: Having Time To Read Fiction Again

The arm is healing nicely, please don't fret too much about that. I can even type properly again, which means it's time for...

Graduate Myth #3: Having Time To Read Fiction Again

At some point during university, you fantasised about throwing a book against a wall. You maybe even actually threw the offending tome down the stairs. (You know who you are, if you're reading this.) Doing a degree involves lots of reading, even if you're a science student. Chances are you probably enjoyed reading before you came to university, and you maybe even enjoyed some of the university reading material.* University tends to attract bookish people, after all. Come the end of your degree, though, and for a while probably the most complicated thing you wanted to read was a cocktail menu.

As the boredom of graduate life kicked in, though, most people I know started picking up novels again, and it was like the universe exploded in me. “Reading!” I exclaimed. “I love that!” I talked about how awesome it was to everyone, and tore my way through novel after novel, re-joined the local library and even read some Classic Books. I read War and Peace, for goodness sake.

This was all while under-employed, working part-time in a clothes shop in between job-hunting and living with my parents again. I used to get the train to work, so I even had a good hour every day to keep reading. It was brilliant, marvellous, wonderful just to read something that no one was going to set me an essay on. And it still is. I am as happy as a clam with a big, thick book, a free afternoon, and a lot of tea and chocolate. A lot of people I know feel the same, and even take their love of reading further by finding the time to write, or even write 12 Books In 12 Months (which by the way is a project you should read up on, as Ali is basically a superhero and disproves all of the theories that I'm about to expound on below. Nevetheless.).

The problem is that free afternoons disappear when you work full time. If you work for eight hours a day, sleep for eight hours a day, and commute for an hour a day, the time for reading quickly dwindles. I have to drive to work now due to inadequate public transport, so I've lost that time. Life gets in the way, in a constant and distressing way, with things like cleaning the bathroom and spending time with loved ones or writing a spurious blog. So the time to curl up with a good book decreases slowly but surely, until you're finally snatching moments before bed or finding esoteric excuses to have a bath.

Which is why I was very pleased to recieve The Crimson Petal and The White for my birthday this week.

That's not the book, that's Romola Garai, but I really fancy her and she played Sugar in the TV adaption which was on recently which makes it completely relevant.**

That's the actual book, and it's 834 pages long. I can't wait for the chance to curl up and read it, but I am mildly concerned about finding the time, and suspect I may be reading it for the next month or so.

As such, the graduate myth about reading fiction again actually had a grain of truth in it – you will get to read again, and it will be marvellous. The problem is that like so many things in life, the time for it is rather crushed by having that graduate job you were really hoping for. Like so, so many things.

*full disclaimer: I keep and still consult a lot of my university texts. ROCK AND ROLL.

**before anyone points it out, I am aware that TV sucks up a lot of time too. This is particularly true if you are massive nerds like Mr DG and I, who are attempting to (re)watch all of Star Trek. All of it. We've even made it through the first season of The Next Generation.***

*** These footnotes are not making me look like the cool and sophisticated front of New Media that I'm trying to present, so I shall stop now.

Heads-up in the Guardian

Like so many graduates, secretly all I want global fame where the whole world knows my name and reads the things I write in newspapers and marvel at my wit.

I've managed to get a comment mentioned in the homepage of the Guardian liveblog for 'The Apprentice'. I post as 'hathycol' on the Guardian, and I'm pleased to see that a pithy comment I made regarding Inception and Jedi Jim was mentioned in the main page. Hurrah!

... yes, that's about the high point of things right now. Well, it's a start.

Undercover Boss

Last night I watched 'Undercover Boss' on Channel 4. The premise of the show, for those of you that don't spend the evening on the second-hand sofa like the Disorientated Graduate, is that the boss of a company that isn't doing as well as they would like (and would like a lot of publicity) goes into the business under disguise as a new start to see what problems they have on the floor.

Now, I work in quite a little company so my boss is pretty much constantly on the shopfloor, so the idea of being caught out by him by not recognising him is a strange one. I think I would need to have suffered from sort of major amnesia and frankly if I did at least I would get some time off work. I digress.

Last night's episode was about Ann Summers, the high-street store that introduced Rampant Rabbits to the high street. Sales are slightly down, to the sister of the M.D. went overcover. She was the assistant managing director and had never worked in a shop.

Alarm bells starting ringing. The Disorientated Graduate worked in retail whilst a student and then for a while after graduating; Mr Disorientated Graduate still does. I would argue the basic for knowing how to run a shop would involve some experience of being on the floor. Instead, you get random directions from on high, which make no sense to those trying to make the place profitable. In all fairness, I think a bit of head office experience is also good; maybe there should be job swaps in place? When I rule the world, etc, etc.

Anyway, the sister of M.D. was shocked by the policy of staff only being taken on for eight hours a week unless they're managers. Hint: you can work four hours without a break. Two four hour shifts a week mean that you can have a large workforce to swap and change as necessary. It's a good system, but only if you want a lot of students. You lose a lot of older, great staff, meaning you get demotivated and unhappy staff with no experience, but such is life. Economics wins agains!

At the end, the undercover boss gave some of the women she met the chance to be 'brand ambassadors' and 'help the buying team'. There's no mention of a pay increase there, or permanent full-time hours, which is the thing they actually need. The point of the show was to make sure that the business was helped to be turned around, and not to help the workers out, so I understand that there was no vested interest in helping the workers en masse. Still, it stuck in the throat a little. As the recessions grows, a lot of businesses are suffering and there's a need to try and help them, I get that. But it just makes me sad that it takes a TV show and a lot of free publicity to even think about listening to the people on the ground who actually keep the business running.

Also, the Undercover Boss wore a really daft wig. That was just silly.