Job interviews are SCARY!!!!!!!
Woke up this morning and headed out, after fist popping round to the Co-Op and shocking the morning check-out girl that I normally say Hi to.
"You've got shoes on! And trousers! Have you got contacts in?"
"I always wear shoes, if you count trainers (apart from one time when I walked there barefoot cos I forgot to put my shoes on) I always wear trousers too, Jeans ARE trousers. And I don't make a habit of pottering round half-blind so yes I would have contacts in."
This was mentally, I don't want her to refuse to serve me or even ban me from the shop. I'm a wimp, I know.
So I toddled out to find a bus to take me to the train station and DND (D Next Door - Actually It should be D Next Door But One but writing DNDBO is a no-no) was coming out.
And he kindly drove me to the train station, which is actually the first time I've spoken to him in seven years of living almost-but-not-quite-next-door. Other than Hello, you alright?
I got a *teeny* bit lost coming out of Warren Street Station but seeing as I still managed to get there 45 minutes early (and I'd stopped for Breakfast at MacDonalds) I wasn't too fussed.
So I got shown round and all that was chilled but the actual Interview itself was a bit scary.
I got sat in front of 4 blokes and the more nervous I got, the more I babbled on about shite.
Hopefully it was all ok
Rang the Mothership on the way out and apart from noticing I went past a Scream bar and thinking fondly of a trip to Our Beloved Friary on Friday I just wandered, which even for a person with a good sense of direction is bad but for me, who has NO sense of direction and even less of a clue about getting round London than your local Japanese Tourist was up shit creek without a paddle.
About 4 miles later and an hour of limping as my feet hurt more and more, and then being reduced to a crawl and getting lapped by 82 year old grannies I found myself in Oxford Street and eventually, veerrrryyy slowly at Tottenham Court Tube Station and then I painfully crawled home to inspect a bloody sock and two feet full of blisters.
(Best bet - If I get this job I can wear Footy shirt and jeans - Hell yeah!)
Fingers crossed that Its good news at the end of the Week when they tell me if I got the job or not!