December 22, 2004

No-So-Lean, Green, Fighting Machine.

2 min read

Posted 18 years ago
by Téa Smith

I had an interview for a great position today. It was shit. And I am a complete loser. Let me tell you why.

I applied for a position with the WA Greens for the election. A part-time paid position, coordinating volunteers, coordinating how-to-votes, booth kits, etc. It is a great position, with flexibility and the chance to prove myself politically. I got to the top 3 candidates, and had my interview this afternoon.

I spent all morning preparing, reading my application over and over again, checking that I had the responses just right. I practised it in my head and even pictured the expression I should have on my face when I got there. I agonised over every little detail. I was prepared.

Then I got myself called into the interview. I had forgotten to turn my mobile phone off, so I asked them if I could. So I did. And, being a Motorola v600, it made a horrifically embarrassing noise when I turned it off. I then shook the hand of the panel members, smiled, did the usual la-di-da and sat down.

The chair squeaked underneath me. Not just a squeak but a scream of agony, saying “get your arse off here…I am used to vegans, not your fat meat eating arse!” A little embarrassed, I tried to shift into a position that didn’t feel like the chair was going to collapse underneath me. The more I moved, the louder it got.

From that moment on, everything I had rehearsed, accounted and prepared for was gone.

My body image being terrible at the best of times, assumed that it was my weight, and not just the problem of a simple squeaky chair. So I went bright red, got extremely nervous and stammered the whole way through the interview. Every time they asked me a question I stumbled, obsessing about the chair, and drifting off into “I wonder if…” land. Wondering, of course, what sort of impression I would make if the chair actually broke underneath me.

When asked to provide examples of how I would operate in a team environment, I was thinking about my massive arse collapsing to the ground and everyone getting a look at my knickers. When asked about my experience in political parties, I was wondering if the chair broke, whether I would land on chards of wood and have my ovaries stabbed out and whether the chairperson knew First Aid. When they asked me if I had any questions, I had to restrain from “Do I look fat in this?”

Tragic. With my copious body mass at the forefront of my mind, I forgot all of my strengths. I forgot how good I am at everything else. I couldn’t string one good sentence together for the whole interview.

I couldn’t bring myself to say one positive thing about myself because I had the thoughts of complete self hatred brought on by a squeaking chair. Which makes me wonder: do skinny people worry about squeaking chairs as much as bigger folks do? FOr us, it is the kiss of death. That self doubt about whether you, in all your heiffer-like glory, are the only person to make the chair squeak.

Anyway, because of the damn chair I am now unemployed again. I just know it.

EDIT: Quick update. Despite the above, I was ranked 2nd. Apparently it was a difficult decision to make as I was equally as good as the chosen candidate. Just different. Ah well. Maybe I should be a member more than 2 months and try again 😉

Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x

You're too kind :-)

FYI, I run everything financial through the checkout on, which is my company. Don’t worry, it’s still me, it’s just easier for accounting for it to be all under that.

Hey there, good looking. Sorry to interrupt.

Wanna Subscribe?

Thanks for reading my stuff. Seriously. I’m eternally grateful. Yes, I know, subscribing means more bloody email. But do subscribe, and if you’re feeling generous, you can leave a donation (this is my company site that powers the checkout. Don’t worry, it’s still me, I just hate admin). I am completely independent and whilst support is never expected, it is always appreciated.

To Top

Skip to toolbar