Seeing as I went on and on about interviews, I thought it only fair that I ‘fess up about the results. I had my first interview last week, the presentation went well, the interview went poorly (“how would you ensure best practise in commissioning and ensure best value” ”erm…”). So when I left, I knew I didn’t have the job and this was confirmed. Part of me didn’t mind too much as the more I found out about the project (Preventing Violent Extremism) the more reservations I had. Also I am a big believer in what’s meant to be will happen, so I didn’t really see the point in moping. On Monday I had my second interview which was internal and which I was not too fussed about and which was a lot more orthodox (“Tell us, what are your strengths and weaknesses?”). It seemed to go okay except I got the feeling I was being railroaded into a post that I hadn’t chosen (Performance Support) rather than the two I had expressed an interest in (Public Affairs and Research). I got feedback two days later that the interview had gone very well and that they were offering me the Performance Support role. I did say that it wasn’t the post I was originally interested in, but no-one was listening. I expect I will take it up, as the work still seems interesting and the people I will be working with are very good at what they do. I will also try my hand at negotiating pay and scale, not something I am great at but no ask no get is what I keep telling my children. I suspect I am not due to be transferred over till early next year.
On the home front, I thought I would get away with a illness-free 2008. So far I have managed to avoid catching the numerous viruses and colds that go round at work and periodically lead to the kids noses leaking all over the place. That was until yesterday when I woke feeling like I had swallowed sandpaper. I struggled through the day at work and though I was getting better, until I found myself spending all of last night making trips to the bathroom to heave up bile – I kept getting strong deja-vu from my pregnancies (it just reminded me never ever to get pregnant again and to ignore the broodiness that is creeping up on me again). I seem to have caught this off of Gorgeous, who also spent last night fussing. My other half was kind enough to take care of him whilst I dragged myself back and forth from the bathroom in the dark.
In the end I called in sick to work (my first in about three years, so I don’t feel guilty) and I feel a bit better now, having dosed up on Ibuprofen so I might be able to get a few things done, play with the boys for a bit and pick up Little Lady from school which always makes her smile.
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