Anti-climax. Random thoughts.

Back from the UK. I have acquired a new blouse (for the interview), two bras, a bumper sticker for my brother (on the subject of fishing), a Jamie Oliver cookbook for a friend, and a new and so far unknown dislike of the English.

It started out good. I was thrilled to be back, seeing familiar brand names and shops, houses and landscapes. The hotel looked nice, but they wouldn't let me check in till two. So I went shopping.

The room turned out to be wonderful too, and I have no complaints on the quality of BBC, both TV and radio. The town was rather dull, but you could live with that. The crucial point was the interview, and added to the remarkably lousy service everyone gave me - disinterested politeness at most - that wrecked the whole experience.

What went wrong? They started me flat-footed. I hadn't so much as caught my breath, nor had I filled my water glass before the questioning started. And truthfully, I can understand the desire to put me on the spot and see how I cope with pressure. That's fine. What I cannot get over is their own lack of enthusiasm. In no way did they bring forth the idea that they were looking forward to the work, or explain how things are done in the group. And granted, I had my ten minutes for my own questions, but by then I felt suffocated and wanted out.

I know I did ok, though, - what I know I know, and what I don't I don't, it's up to them, and the other candidates. And I'm strangely disappointed. I so wanted to be excited once I sat there, I wanted to burn with desire to come to them. Instead, they killed off the already large enthusiasm I had from reading the material on the web. To go there for five years is now totally out of the question, and it feels dodgy to turn down a job too. The two-year-job might still interest me, but I will need reassurances. All things considered, I rather hope I don't get the jobs so the decision won't be mine.

Another observation was how ugly people are. No dress sense, and very sour or dour facial expressions. No open smiles, - on my way back I looked for people who looked nice, and they were all Scandinavian. Ridiculous, really, I've never had that reaction to any other people before.

As we speak, I have a hard time concentrating. It's in part getting around the interview in my head, but mostly it's to do with the man issue.
I confess, I am not patient. Once I know what I know, I want things to happen. Being told that "I'll get back to you" in the end of a short, but very nice phone conversation is somewhat unsatisfying, since I first of all don't know WHEN. This also means that the niggling fear that maybe he won't has some room in which to roam, but my reason tells me that he hasn't let me down much yet, so the empirical evidence is good. And still. You see, I'd really like to see him soon, now, yesterday, - so I need him to call me sooner rather than later.

I'm also debating whether it is a good idea to let him know what I know, - even though I am an all or nothing kind of girl, he might not be. Man, that is. Or if my moment of surety is before his, it could cloud his decision. Go with the flow, I guess. He is the leading man, after all.

This is thus an attempt of writing the doubts away, and getting the ridiculous down on paper.

I'll let you know.