My Bridget Jones moment...

As some of you may know (like my many online rants have not laid clue to it) I was recently made redundant.  I hate that word by the way, 'redundant'. It just seems so stagnant and useless.  All of which I am not. Anyway, I've been doing the interview circuit with as much relish as a sodden cucumber relegated to a summer salad.

But I deviate.  The latest interview saw everything going swimmingly.  I made all the right noises at all the right times. Personally, I think interviews are such hogwash because that's what people tend to do. A brilliant PR job on themselves (at least seasoned interviewees like myself).  Hell, how will a prospective employer ever really know if the yarns being spun is anything other than what you say. No amount of Meyers Briggs or any other personality assessment could surely reveal that.

Again, I deviate.  Where was I? Oh yes, the latest interview.  I'm sure I made all the right impressions and then just as the interview was about to conclude (I was there for a full hour by the way - anything over 30 minutes is by my estimation a good sign) and I was about to blow them away with my well rehearsed exit speech, I hear and feel the zip of my skirt give way.  I kid you not, an inordinate breeze starts to chase my rear end as the gap grew alarmingly bigger.  Well, I hastily tried to salvage the situation by putting my one hand on the offending area while shaking the hands of my interviewers with the other. Rather than turn and expose my ample rear to the poor guys, I back tracked my way out the room only to trip over an ill-placed coffee table.  Talk about leaving with a bang!  And that's not all. I kept going in my ungainly fashion and felt the cold glass door smooching my royal rump.  I mean, seriously - why does this shit always happen to me.  Really, this one ranks high up there in 'life's most embarrassing moments'. Bridget Jones, sorry hun - 'you ain't got nuthin on me!'