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Oh dear, why do I start this...

Chapter 5. In which Sally Travels to her Interview.

So, I made friends with this nice Scottish guy who had change of a £5 note so I could buy a ticket and go catch my train. I bought a train ticket from a machine and it gave me two bits, one ticket, one card receipt. They look identical. I put the tickets in my purse and went to the kiosk to buy a bottle of water. I then went to go through the barrier. I took the ticket out of my purse and put it in the slot and nothing happened. Tried again. Nothing. 'Come through the gate,' the man said. As I went through he took my ticket. 'Ah, this is the receipt, that's why. hang on, this is dated 17th July. A bit out of date!' Now, why would a ticket almost two months old be first out of my purse????

So, having found the right ticket, which of course was hiding in a small corner of my purse, I was allowed on the platform. I should tell you know, the one thing I did right was to Allow Plenty of Time. So these small delays did not upset me. I meant to read the document on the train, but was feeling so lousy (see earlier PMT reference) that I slept all the way to Farringdon. Oh well. Got out in Plenty of Time, so decided to sit and have a coffee outside a little coffee shop to chill, check the map and NOT spill coffee on my clean beige skirt.....which actually, being linen, was starting to look a little crumpled.....

I walked confidently in the direction of the offices, still with Plenty of Time. I got to the bit where on the map they should have been, but they weren't. I asked people. No-one had heard of the address. I walked around, checking all office blocks, asking people..and by now, dear reader, given that it was a strangely hot and humid day in London, the sweat began to pour off me, because I am wearing a Smart Jacket.

It becomes like the scene from a scary film. At one point I am in a square, and on the other side I see a postman. Aha! A postie will know. I call out, 'Excuse me!' and hurry towards him but he appears not to have heard, and as I get near he suddenly vanishes up an alley hidden between two buildings. I run to the alley..look up...he is nowhere to be seen. Scary.

I still have Plenty of Time, but not as much as I did, so when the next building and man are no help, I get out my mobile phone and ring Nikki. (There are no contact phone nos. on the interview letter, and just the name of the office building, no street name. It is not just that I am useless.....)

I ask Nikki (assertively) to ring the London office and find out exactly where they are and ring straight back. She says yes and is gone a minute or two and rings back with the information that I am on the Wrong Side of High Holborn. My internet map is wrong. I get there, cross the road and look for an entrance to a huge block that has the right name on. Hurrah!

I still have time..but my shoes are rubbing, my feel are killing me, and I am soaked through with sweat..humidity is rising..I find a man at a door in the side street and ask if he can let me in. No, he says, the main entrance is on the main road. But I looked.....

I go back to the main road and walkalongg the shops. It is an old Elizabethan block, and there, between two shops is a small wooden arch, leading to a cobbled courtyard. I walk under the arch and around the courtyard are lots of old houses, each one with its own front door leading to hundreds of small offices. On account of my bad eyesight I have to go up to each front door and peer at the plaques. At the third door I am lucky...third floor..I push the door..put it doesn't open. I work out which bell to push and push. Three minutes to go. Plenty of Time. No-one answers. I push again. This time a voiced answers and invites me in. I push the door. Nothing. I wait. Push. Ring again. I can't get in, I explain. Oh, it's very stiff, you have to push hard. Thanks.

I get in and find a small staircase and climb what I am sure is three floors. No office, but a loo, so I go in and attempt to wash in cold water, use paper towels to dry off, and brush my wet hair and fringe from off my sweaty face,andn climb another staircase and arrive at the office. Hello, you made it, they say, and sit me in a small, airless, warm roomwith aa cup of iced water. is it and sip and breathe. 1 minute to go. I am so not in the mood for this interview....

M comes in and greets me and I am pleased to see her face is all damp and sweaty and she apologises for thehumidityy but we are on the fourth floor and she can't open a window. I sit in the interview room with sweatpouringg down my face and back and smile, and attempt to look relaxed.

They ask me a couple of questions, including what doIi think of the new guidelines..well, hard to read, too long,repetitivee, needs editing..but good apart from that, I remember to say....the time for the presentation. I stand up, look at the flip chart, grab a pen and breathe. I feel a mess. What did I sat when I practised it with MA? I take a deep breath, turn to my audience and smile......

After I have talked for 5 minutes, I stop, sit down and think,..oih dear....then I hear M say quietly..'Spot on.' Oh my goodness.... After one more question and pleasantries, I am out the door, and within 20 minutes,,yes just 20 minutes! I am back in the loo mopping myself up..as I do so I turn on my phone to hear a voice message of pan pipe playing buskers in Altrincham, cos Stuart and Karen heard them and thought of me....

There are hundreds of things I could have done in London, but all I could think about was getting home, (on the way out I found a sad soul I recognised stuck at the Front Door trying to get in for an interview, so I let her in and wishes her well....) so I limped to the station (smart shoes, bad blisters) and slept on the train all the way back to St Albans. Arrived in the office and collapsed.

Two hours later I get the phone call offering me the job.'You were brilliant,' says M, 'The only person to do their presentation without using notes, you just looked at us and talked clearly and confidently. You had obviously read the document thoroughly and understood it well. Welcome to the Training Team.'

Well, B***er me. What the F*** were the others like then?????