I’ve applied for quite a lot of jobs this year. So many I’m beyond able to count how many.
I’d just started applying via a new website and was casually applying for copywriting jobs, when suddenly, one replied. This is pretty unusual – even rejections are rarely issued. But this wasn’t a rejection, oh no, this was a test. A test of my writing abilities…
A test for Endemol at Marks & Spencer – I was to write blurb for a selection of their products, based on only the picture, bullet points and category. The items requiring blurb: a bonded leather box, a 100% wool jacket, a set of four napkin rings, 2 stripy tops for girls and a kimono style ladies top.
I sent the test back on Sunday, before the Sopranos finale (which was good and not good at the same time).
Tuesday: I get a phone call at 9:30 in the morning; naturally I’m not awake. My test was ‘pretty good’ and they want to interview me. When can I come in? I say whenever is convenient for them. They say 3 pm tomorrow, I say I think I can sort that out; in my mind I’m saying ‘holy shit!’, I do agree and get to booking a train.
Wednesday: Armed with three bits of writing from the site that I like and three bits that I don’t like, I get on the train. I’ve got 55 minutes to get from Euston to Paddington, but by the time I arrive I’ve got 28. And I can’t find where the building is. I get there ten minutes late, covered in sweat, and after signing in and getting a badge, I make my way to their office.
I have the interview with wet patches on my shirt. I’ve proved I can write but I slip up on a couple of questions and don’t feel so good afterwards.
Twenty minutes later: I’m in Notting Hill about to practice some retail therapy and I get a phone call. ‘Yes we’d like to offer you the job’. I accept and then babble because I’m so taken aback that I have no idea what to say.
I start in two weeks.
And I am wetting myself.