My Worst Ever Interview

My Worst Ever Interview

         My body rocked from side to side with the movements of the train. The lights were dim, and the few children who had been forced to wake up so early by their parents were sitting quietly, grumpy looks radiating from their faces. One such kid, clad entirely in green shirts and shorts, sat across me on the other side of the train. Ever since he had gotten on the train, he had been staring grumpily at me.
         What’s up with him, I wondered. Ignoring him as much as I could, I tried to get some sleep but it was to no avail. The interview I was heading to was keeping me on the edge, having successfully robbed me of an entire night’s sleep. As if that wasn’t enough, I had a nagging feeling that I had forgotten something. As I shook it away, I saw the green-kid walk over to me.
         “Don’t you comb your hair?” he asked loudly.
         Comb my hair? I always combed my hair. What was he…I turned around to my reflection in the window behind me. A pale, tired face with dark circles around the eyes stared back at me. And it had a hair that vaguely resembled a bird’s nest that had just been ravaged by a very angry cat.
         Shit! So that was what I had forgotten. Panic engulfed me, and I looked around desperately for a toilet before I realized that Singapore trains didn’t have toilets in them. Curse the government! As I tried to calm myself, I couldn’t help but remember the words of my favourite teacher, “The first impression is always the most important”. There goes my first impression, I thought with a sinking feeling.

         I got off my seat and stood impatiently at the door as my stop arrived. I looked at my watch and realized that I was about ten minutes away from being late. Curse these doors! Why aren't they opening?
         “Uh, sir? You've dropped your wallet.”
         I turned around and saw a sweet-looking teenager behind me. I looked where she was pointing and recognized the brown lump of leather on the floor near where I sat just now. “My wallet!” I exclaimed, and drew the uncomfortable attention of everyone. Ignoring them, some of whom were pointing shamelessly at my hair, I went over and picked up my wallet. After checking that it contained everything, I turned back to the train door and, to my utmost horror, saw that almost everyone in the train compartment had gathered around the door. No, this couldn't be happening, I prayed. Strangely, I had a feeling that things were about to get worse. Much worse.
         The train door opened and the crowd filtered through. They made their ways slowly down the escalators. Oh god, I wondered, why did so many people have to get off the train at this particular stop, at this particular time, on particularly today?
         Unable to wait for everyone to go down, I pushed through them and managed to step on an escalator. Unfortunately, I also managed to bump into a short-tempered old lady.
         “Hey, watch there young man!” she shrieked. “Stop trying to push an old woman off the top of the escalator!”
         “I'm sorry, I was in a hurry.”
         She grumbled something incoherent, then stopped. Wondering what had happened, I looked at her.
         “Don't you comb your hair?” she asked, looking at my hair.
         “Uh, I do. It's just that I forgot today.”
         “It looks atrocious.” She then began fishing out an old moldy comb from her bag, and reached for my hair.
         “Please!” I yelled and jumped down the remaining steps. When I reached the bottom, I looked at the turnstiles and felt my heart disappear. There was a huge crowd gathered around the exit. A quick look revealed the reason: the turnstiles were jammed. Damn it!

         A few minutes later, I emerged from the train station and looked around for a toilet. Not to answer the call of nature but to wet my hair and fix it as much as I could. I soon spotted one some distance away. But as I neared it, I saw the unmistakable sign saying “Closed for renovation”. Oh hell, I cursed, why did it all have to happen today?
         Wishing that I could wet my hair somehow, I turned around and made to a pedestrian crossing that linked people like me to the skyscrapers of the business district. As I crossed the road I looked around for the building I needed to get to.
         The building in question was supposed to be gray in colour, and so tall it looked as if it would pierce the very heavens. Still searching, I felt myself stop in the middle of the road. All the buildings in the area fit the description! With a sinking feeling, I realised that I should have come yesterday and investigated the place.
         How was I going to find my destination now? Then, to my intense relief, I saw a logo I recognized on top of a building. To my intense horror, I saw that it was on the other side of the neighbourhood. I looked at my watch and learned I had only one minute left.
         As I half-walked, half-ran, I heard a loud rumble of thunder, and when I looked up I saw dark clouds gathering. Oh no, not the rain! I didn’t even have an umbrella! Little droplets of water began falling, and before I knew it, I was being attacked savagely by the rain. Great, even Mother Nature has decided to go against me, I thought bitterly. Puffing with anger and irritation, I began walking slowly. I was already late, had an ugly hair, and was now even wet. What more could possibly go wrong? Well, I was about to find out.
         I reached the skyscraper a few minutes later, and as I awaited the lift, I looked at my reflection on the shiny walls. I shouldn't have, for I nearly got scared to death by the visage that stared back at me. I saw a monster, pale and wet, and whose hair stood out at every possible angle. “Oh my...” I tried to flatten my hair, to make it more presentable.
         “Ahem, ahem,” someone cleared a throat behind me.
         My hand shot back down to my side, and I turned around to face him. The man was a blue-uniformed security guard.
         “Yes?” I prompted when he did nothing but stare at me for a full minute.
         “The lift's broken. You need to take the stairs.”
         The stairs! But my interview was on the twentieth level!
         “That's the worst hair I've ever seen in my life,” the guard continued.
         Ignoring him, I made my way to the stairs.

         “You're late,” the female interviewer said.
         “By almost twenty minutes,” her male counterpart added.
         My face turned as red as a lobster at a barbecue, and I thought I could see steam coming off my face. “Um, yeah. There was the sudden rain and the lift broke...” I croaked pathetically, staring miserably at the two. Before climbing the stairs, I was cold and wet from the rain. Now, after climbing twenty floors, I felt hot, stuffy and wet-- this time from sweat.
         The female interviewer, a young woman by the name of Sharon, looked at her partner, John, and said, “Yes, we can see that.”
         My face blushed, if possible, even further.
         “Anyway, please sit.” John indicated to a seat as I handed him the file that contained all my life's achievements. It, too, was as red and wet as me.
         After browsing thorough it for a while, John started laughing. He indicated something in the file to Sharon, and she too guffawed.
         The room suddenly started feeling like an oven. “Is there something wrong?” I asked timidly.
         John stifled his laughter and looked at me. “Seriously, is this some kind of a joke?”
         I stared blankly and felt warm sweats trickle down my temple. “What do you mean?”
“Where are your certificates?” He tipped the file back at me, and to my dismay, I saw the file contained notes from my school days. I kept both my notes and certificates in similar-looking red files. And I had, in my hurry, brought the wrong one. Oops.
         Sharon coughed politely, and said, “Listen, we can't give you this job. The interview is over.”
         “But I do have the qualifications,” I pleaded.
         “I'm sorry,” she said, though she looked far from it. I could see another laugh trying to burst out from her. “If we gave you this job, we would lose ours.”
         “But I went through a lot of trouble today...” I had never felt so miserable before.
         “Everyone goes through a lot of trouble in their life, but that doesn't mean they always get whatever they want,” John said, giving me back my file. “We're really sorry,” he added.
         A few minutes went by before I realised they were staring at me. Shaking my head, I asked, “So, I should go now?”
         They nodded.
         I got up and made my way to the door. I had never felt so sad before, sad and angry. Not to mention tired and wet. After going through the stupid rain and the broken lift, it all came down to this...I felt hot, stuffy, angry, miserable, cold, wet, all-the-feelings-rolled-into-one-feeling... As I reached out for the handle, I heard Sharon call out.
         “Oh, one more thing.”
         I turned around and caught her glancing at my hair. Irritation flared up inside me and I said heatedly, “I know it's about my hair. Look, I do comb it, alright? It's just that I forgot today.”
         She looked blankly at me for a while before replying. “I didn't mean your hair. It's your pants. They're unzipped.”
         I looked down and saw something red staring obscenely from the black of my pants.
         Oh my god...