Blown Out of Proportion – a daily book soap

 An insight into the lighter side of returning to work after having a family. To keep up with the trials and tribulations, stick this into your favourites and come back regularly. Looking foward to seeing you…………..

Chapter One. At last an interview!

Somewhat grudgingly I ascended the steps of the building, holding to me the buff coloured folder that gave details of the company and what they did. Of course I had been assured by the young girl at the agency that my skills and experience as a mother would be utilised in every way possible.

Hmm of this I had remained dubious.

But since I had approached every recruitment agency in the city, and this was the only position they could find me that fitted in with the hours I could work, I had to give it a try. So fed up was I of the snooty manner in which I had been treated that my resistance could take no more, and our family shopping budget decreased further with every week.

As usual for most people in my position, I had desperately sought another route,  if I delivered one more catalogue it would be one too many, but I knew I had tried it, and that meant one more option crossed off the list. It was me also that rang and badgered the elderly, infirm – well okay, if truth be known – pretty much everybody, about the possibilities of window shopping. I offered heartiest congratulations when informed the telegram from Buckingham Palace had come last week – but I was inviting them to plan for their future and lower their heating costs. So this was not my forte either it would seem.

Checking the time on my mobile before turning it to vibrate only, it was 11am, and in just fifteen minutes I was due to meet with the Personnel Manager of Bright Sparkz, manufacturer of quality light fittings for the work and home. I held out some hope of getting something here, and the money wasn’t too bad either. In my head I was going over all the interview techniques I had learnt – picturing people in embarrassing situations, you know the sort.

Adjusting my skirt, and pulling my jacket straight, I entered the building after some confusing contemplation with the intercom system. Maybe the vacancy was for a receptionist? Done that.

The email I had received from the last agency I had approached had come last night, just as I was typing the last line of my latest short story, this one of my real passions, to become a full-time writer.

Sitting in a waiting area, hard chairs barely covered with a stark blue material wearing at the edges, I was reminded of the staff room at my children’s school. Did it have to be like this, after all it hardly put nervous candidates at ease. So already I began my usual trick of redesigning the area to make it more conducive to a calming atmosphere. A potted fig in the corner, a lifestyle magazine or two on the low table. Well it was sounding more and more like a staffroom as I thought it through. The lack of a clock anywhere took away the impatience factor of somebody running late, but the double edge to this was that it lent an air of anonymity and if anything added even more tension because another tendril of control had been severed. Okay, last nights’ story was taking over and I stopped it before it went into overkill. Checking my phone again, only five minutes had passed.

A door opened and a short stocky man emerged, followed closely by a girl clutching a clipboard. I was ushered in and proffered a seat, not dissimilar to those in the school classrooms. So I had been demoted to pupil now, had I?

So there I sat, the interviewing panel before me, consisting of the stocky man, and a woman, perhaps in her late forties, straight skirt, bobbed hairstyle, and small stud earrings. She had what appeared to be a permanent sneer – not once did I see any change of expression cross her face.. The girl with the clipboard reappeared to offer me a drink, which I declined. My hands were shaking and I was having to sit on them, so the panel would not be able to see just how jumpy I was.

The man introduced himself as Mr Edison and his poker-faced colleague as Ms Bright. He was the Managing Director and she was representing Human Resources. The questions began, did I feel I could contribute to the Company in a positive and productive way? What had made me apply? What period of notice to my current employer? Did I have an up-to-date CV with me?

I did my best to explain my position, returning to work mum of three, with many skills, such as powers of negotiation, organisation and discipline in the workplace – Ms Bright gave a snort of derision as she read through my CV. Just as I thought how I didn’t want to work for this woman anyway, Mr Edison sat back in his chair, declaring how he had just the thing. This brought my attention back from my kitchen where a bowl of breakfast dishes were still to be rinsed – and I waited. I could picture myself power-dressing and sitting in on major discussions of how to take the company forwards, particularly creating a more dynamic working environment. A voice brought me back once more to the matter in hand and I was told I could begin the next day. With this I was ushered from the room and Ms Bright and Mr Edison huddled in a discussion, which I strained to listen to as I was led from the office by ‘clipboard girl’. Though I was sure I heard a snigger from Ms Bright, I couldn’t be sure and dismissed it from my mind

Still not exactly sure what position I had been given, I crossed the car park and unlocked my car. I had been given a sheet of paper as I left, and now as I sat in the car, I looked down at it, seeing that I was expected to be at the building by 9.30am the next morning and I would be working until 2.45pm. Well it would be tight but I could make it. I had liked Mr Edison, more than I had taken to Ms Bright

That night, try as I might I could not bring up any company information other than the name and address of the business on the Internet, but then I had not really noticed any evidence of up-to-date technology while there. Quite unusual for 2008, but I guessed not totally unheard of – Mr Edison did not look like a man who was completely au fait with the merits of the latest Windows package

Still there was an email message for me from the agency asking how I had got on, so I replied with as much detail as I had, still believing that I was be in an office somewhere, perhaps typing, or maybe fielding calls and visitors as a receptionist

The rest of the evening I had spent on deciding on what I should wear – after all, last time I worked in this sort of environment, I had been in my early twenties, and unravaged by three pregnancies, two in rapid succession. My husband was beginning to tire of the whole thing and suggested I went on a late night forage to the 24 hour supermarket with a clothes department to get something more suitable, before turning back to catch a cheer as his team scored a qualifying goal .